la voglia

[259kmvn]

masterlist

stuff i've written

genshin impact

scaramouche - shy (fluff, smut) | fight after (smut, angst, comfort)

albedo - campfire (fluff) | experiment (fluff, smut)

kazuha - weakness and strength (comfort)

elden ring

miquella - emancipation and forgiveness (angst, fluff)

mononoke

ri kusuriuri - psyche pt1 pt2 (fluff, smut)

[259kmvn]

psyche pt. 2

in the process of hunting down a mononoke, kusuriuri finds himself in an odd dilemma. | semi smut

it is tomorrow.

curiously, there is no sight nor smell of you along the corridors of the run-down inn— not in the morning, and not in the afternoon. kusuriuri roams the barren lodging with his scales in tow. he finds no sign of the mononoke either.

it dawns on him that you have left for your business meeting without him noticing, and he does not know how to feel about that. or rather, he does not know what to do with that he's feeling. there is a sunken weight in his chest; one that weighs heavier the longer you're absent. one might call it loneliness, others possessiveness. regardless, he decides to do nothing about it.

that evening, he finds himself mildly irritated. with no other humans to play with, all he'd done is wait for you in the stale common room. entertaining himself by fidgeting with the aphrosidiac you so bashfully asked about last night. is this how married spouses feel, waiting for their partners to get home? an odd and brief gratefulness that he's not married flickers in his mind. just as he's about to wave away the irritation, suddenly—

"ahh~! i'm so tired!"

enter you; beaming, stretching, sparkling. maybe the sparkles were just his imagination. then your eyes catch his. in it lies a shy, playful glint. cheekily, you exclaim: "h-hi honey, i'm home...!"

kusuriuri pauses. there's no way you're doing this. smirking, he decides to play along. he gracefully stands up, and for the first time you're both standing in front of each other. "welcome home, honey," and he steps closer to you, "you're late."

he doesn't know if it's the proximity, or the fact that he called you honey in return, or something else entirely— but the look on your face has become something he can only call 'adorable'. you're bumbling over words, eyes frantically going everywhere but his face. "it really feels like we're a couple, doesn't it?" you say through that irresistable smile of yours. he hums in response. maybe he shouldn't feel too grateful about not being married.

"say..." he leans in closer to you, deep voice resonating in the air between you, "did anything happen with the scale i gave you last night?"

the question cut through the light atmosphere like a sword. your eyes widen, and you hesitate to reply. then, you whisper, looking guilty, "i.. i lost it." when he does not respond, you start to profusely apologise. curious, he thinks, and he says the next part out loud, because i found it lying in front of your room door. "ahh! it must have fallen when i went to work!" and now you're gesturing, going on and on about how clumsy you can be and how careless and this is why your boss always scolds you and you'll be careful next time and—

and kusuriuri's lips are on yours.

ahhh, damn. he got impatient.

"you sure talk a lot for someone so fearful," he mumbles against you.

"'mphorry..." you mumble back.

when he pulls away, you look like you're holding back from going for seconds. and he can't lie— he feels that way too. "do you want to know what the scale is for?" he asks. gathering all the energy he can to observe his feelings rather than embody them. when you nod, he summons them from his medicine box. "i came to kill," he says, voice casual yet heavy.

he sits you down and starts telling you, of the mononoke and its nature, of what it takes to unsheathe his sword, and most importantly, of what he needs to do to lure the mononoke out. by the end of his monologue, your eyes are in spirals. "mononoke..." you whisper, "...form, truth, regret..." your head tilts, "...doing it.." and you look at him, "..with me?"

now he feels an urgent need to be gentlemanly. what with your beady, innocent eyes piercing straight through him. "if you'll have me."

"i- will i do, though? you seem like the kind of person who has a lot of... experience..." he wants to chuckle at that— but instead, he just cocks an eyebrow. "i don't—! i just don't want you to be disappointed or something... i mean, i am a- a vir..g..i...n..."

a soft smirk plays on his lips— "you don't think the mononoke would like that more?" at that you gasp and hide your face, blush seeping through your hands. you seem to mumble a 'how would i know that' behind your blush.

"come," kusuriuri stands, offering a hand to help you up, "we must make haste." you take his hand.

as you make your way to your room (and he insists on doing it in your room), kusuriuri notes the temperature of your hand. it is neither warm not cold— which really means that it's cold. part of him thinks that's odd; the other, lower part, thinks he'll warm you up plenty tonight.

the moment your room door shuts, he's on you. lips smacking against your skin, kissing your cheek, hair, neck. your strained, shocked gasps aren't helping the growing warm pit in his abdomen. "wait," you say, and he doesn't, "the mononoke— how are you- ah- going to slay- it?" kusuriuri pulls back, breathing heavy. curse human desire, he wants to say, making me lose sight of the goal.

he lays you on your futon and quickly takes out his tools from his box. his scales he scatters around the floor; around you, who are observing him with anticipation. his ofuda charms he prepares to arrange around the internal walls of the room. "what are they for?" you ask, and he says that they will protect you if the mononoke arrives. "don't you want the mononoke to come in so you can fight it? would it be better not to have them?" he ignores your suggestion. after all, he does not want to risk harm befalling upon you. finally, he puts down his sword beside the futon before joining you on it.

but before he could continue what he started, you protest. "the eyes on your sword... it feels like there's a third party in the room watching us," you say, and kusuriuri resists kissing your pout. "we can do it under the covers if you want." you nod eagerly.

and just as eagerly, he lifts the covers of your futon over the both of you. long nails quickly slip between the folds of your garment— finding the supple flesh of your thighs. slowly, his bandanna falls, blonde hair tickling your skin as he kisses you gently. slowly, both your garments get looser, revealing expanses of each other's bodies that you can barely make out beneath the shadows.

yet, yearning as he is, there is still a tension in his body that is undisturbed by lust.

even as he kisses your breaths away, and your skin tickles his, he is still on edge.

the mononoke could appear at any moment.

and kusuriuri would be lying if that didn't make his crotch twitch even the slightest bit.

[259kmvn]

psyche pt. 1

in the process of hunting down a mononoke, kusuriuri finds himself in an odd dilemma.

'how troublesome, this mononoke.' kusuriuri thinks to himself, fingers cupping his chin to assist his rumination. he finds his thoughts venturing to the fact that he is sitting in the common room of a run-down inn located on the fringes of a town.

accompanying him is you: a stranger, and a timid one, no less. you're positioned diagonally across him, nearer to the door out. it's like you're actively avoiding his line of vision, to which he does not blame you for. in such a suspicious, dilapidated place, who would want to risk intruding on another's space? regardless, he appreciates that you're minding your own business.

that, however, may not be the case for long.

kusuriuri redirects his thoughts to the mononoke. from what he's seen, this one apparently targets couples, though the word is meant to be used loosely. what it means, really, is that it targets any pair of humans who do the deed together— that is, make love. but this also has implications that are too simple, so perhaps kusuriuri would much rather put it simply: h*** s**.

unfortunately for him, there are no couples staying over that night. in fact, there are no guests at all— save for him and you. his eyebrows furrow. how troublesome.

speaking of you, and he turns to look at you, he wonders, 'what are you even doing here?' ah. your eyes meet. at first, all he senses is apprehension. but said apprehension slowly turns into a burning curiosity— one that, intriguingly, reflects his. the longer his eyes connect with yours, the clearer a plan formulates in his mind. 'if the both of us do it, the mononoke will target us, right?'

and unethical as it is, the plan is set.

"oh?" kusuriuri starts, feigning surprise. "what business does someone like you have in a place like this?"

you seem to retreat into yourself at that. with caution, you say, "i could ask you the same thing."

he breaks into his usual charming smile. "as you can see," he gestures towards his trusty box, "i am just a medicine seller."

"ah! then i am too."

he chuckles, the curl of his lips turning genuine. 'timid as you are, you're quite playful, aren't you?' he thinks to himself. perhaps his job may be easier than he expected. "what goods do you sell, if i may ask?"

you smile in response, almost in disbelief that he's playing along. you continue the act and pretend to look around hastily. "ah... i'd like to show them to you, but i've left them in my room." you eye him shyly as you ask, "would you like to come over?"

right before he could say anything, however, you laugh bashfully; hiding your reddening face with your hands. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean it like that— ahh, i don't know what's gotten into me..."

there's really nothing kusuriuri could do at that moment. he stares at you in shock, like all the wind has been knocked out of his very human lungs. nothing, no thoughts nor images, conjure in his mind except one thing: 'this person is cute'. could this be.. human desire? don't get him wrong— he's experienced human desire before. but those moments were engineered, nay, willed by him such that he can enter and leave that state at any time. but the feeling he gets witnessing you and your timid being turned playful turned flirty turned bashful, is so out of his will.

he is intrigued by this amusing experience. he continues observing you. eventually, your pretty eyes reveal themselves from behind your hands. "truthfully, i'm here for a business trip," your lips form a pout, "but my boss and coworkers' inn was full, so they sent me here instead." he hums in response. "they said that it's near our meeting place for tomorrow, so i shouldn't have much problems with it..."

you then look around the room. the inn is run-down for sure. there are stains on the walls, and its stagnant atmosphere disturbs anyone who breathes in its air. holes in the floor and doors are haphazardly patched up, casting subtle shadows from the dim lighting. kusuriuri has these noted from the moment he stepped foot in front of the inn.

he also notes the solemn smile that graces your lips. 'how human', he thinks, 'how innocent' —almost feeling bad for the ulterior motive he has in interacting with you.

"how about you? are you really a medicine seller? and..." a pause, "what are you doing here, of all places?"

kusuriuri contemplates telling you his true intentions. he would love to play with you, to see what kinds of reactions you'll have to his job as a mononoke slayer; to see what kind of faces you'll make. but given the nature of this job in particular... perhaps it's best he holds back that truth. he'll play with you in another way.

"i am simply a medicine seller. shall i show you my wares?" you nod, and he beckons to you to come closer. you do. as you sit next to him, he notices the fragrant of of freshness that you carry— ridding his nose of the stale air that plagued it beforehand. the 'feeling of human desire' grows stronger. he opens the first compartment of his box.

as he shows you the goods he has, he picks out certain medicines, and leaves behind some. each of them you react with awe, confusion, and disgust. he can't help but bask in the genuineness of your reactions. there's one he contemplated bringing up— one that catches your attention. you reach out and point to it. 'it' being an aphrosidiac in a totally un-subtle bottle.

"what about this one? looks interesting," you ask.

"would you like to try?" he asks, slowly pulling it out of the compartment.

"eh?" and you finally properly catch what the shape of the bottle is meant to replicate, "ah— wh- what does it do?" you look like you wish you didn't ask.

"hm... it's hard to explain in words," he says with a pout like it's unfortunate, "you can't know until you try it yourself." honestly, if he had to put it in words, it might just be what you're doing to him. your eyes widen and cheeks redden, and there is a struggle on your lips as to how you should reply. perhaps he's teased you too far.

kusuriuri chuckles. not yet satisfied with his teasing, he leans close to your ear. he whispers, "we can keep this for next time, hmm?"

smack!

a sheepish, guilty look slaps itself onto his face, and your hand is its harbinger. "don't be a creep, mr. medicine seller!"

he rubs his pained skin and laughs a small "sorry, sorry". when he looks up at you from the corner of his eye, he notices hesitation. like before, you have that timid apprehension about you. unlike before, you look like you're on the cusp of something— a decision? a feeling?

"you're not that kind of person, are you?" you ask carefully.

ah. it's trust. you're on the cusp of trusting him.

with an ominous smile and a low tone of voice, he whispers, "i wonder..."

the hesitation that beheld you briefly turns to worry, before turning to confidence. you beam at him (in whatever capacity you could), "you can't be that kind of person. if you were, you would've done something already."

'oh no', he thinks to himself, 'you're too innocent for your own good'.

for a moment, the urge to tease turns into the urge to protect. for a moment, kusuriuri forgets about his goal to uncover the mononoke and slay it. for a moment, all he wants is to get you out of this inn, to bring you to somewhere safe— a better inn, an inn without a mononoke nor people who could hurt you, a home, your home, anywhere.

he shuts his eyes, listening to these thoughts. interesting.

"mr. medicine seller..?"

when he opens his eyes, you're much closer to him than before. in fact, you're almost sharing a breath with him, and the worry in your eyes spills into the air between you.

"you must be tired. i'm sorry for taking up your time, please rest well tonight!" you lean back, shoulders relaxing of relief yet still bearing a tinge of guilt. before you could stand up and leave, he tells you to wait. pulls out a shiny artefact with tiny bells hanging from the side and passes it to you.

"place this in your room," he instructs, "if anything happens, call for me." of course, it's not like he needs you to call for him when something happens. he'll know either way. but perhaps... well, perhaps, now's not the time to think about it.

"wh-what is this? what does it do?" you say, carefully inspecting it in your hand. he notices the gentle movement of your fingers as you handle the artefact.

"it's a scale. it tells me where..." realising that he has not told you about the mononoke, he readjusts his words, "..dangers may be."

there is a look on your face that wants to ask what kind of dangers, but the look on his face not to question is much more intense. you nod, smile, and thank him, and he finds himself swelling at that. "alright, mr. medicine seller. i'll find you tomorrow." you turn to return to your room. before going out the exit, you look back at him. "when will you be leaving this inn?"

"when what needs to be done is done."

you nod, choosing not to ask further.

after you leave, kusuriuri looks at the topmost compartment of his box; the one that houses his sword. he still feels remnants of the 'human desire' you induced in him, and wonders if he should cleanse himself from it. a clear mind is necessary in facing a mononoke, after all. but in order to expose it in the first place, he needs someone to do the deed— in this case, to do the deed with him. having this desire would definitely help in this regard. there's a furrow in his eyebrows as he explores this dilemma in the depths of his mind.

well... in any case, there's one thing he knows for sure.

he can't wait to see you tomorrow.

[randoimago-deactivated20250522]

Hello! I was the one who requested the taking the blow of the P5 boys! Thank you again!

I wanted to ask if I could make the same request of the reader taking a blow for the boys of Persona 3! Mostly Makoto/Minato, Junpei, Akihiko, and Shinjiro if that's fine!

Thank you!

Fandom: Persona 3

Character(s): Akihiko, Junpei, Makoto, Shinjiro

Note(s): Here you go!

Akihiko

His eyes go wide when he sees you jump in and take the hit for him. Akihiko feels frozen and his brain can't process what emotion he should be feeling. Mix that with the fact you're still in combat, we'll he's going through it until someone snaps him out.

He just doesn't even know what to say to you for what you did. He's watched so many people he love die and then you took a hit for him. Aki is doing his best to stay calm, but his adrenaline is on high and his brain won't shut off with the "what if" scenarios.

Akihiko asks you to never do that again. He doesn't care if he might actually die, that's part of the risk of being in SEES. Just please don't ever put yourself in danger on his behalf.

Junpei

You're so lucky that Junpei didn't hit you with his bat. He saw the shadow coming and he was ready to smack it to get it to go away, but then you jumped in. Junpei is definitely not happy with your actions.

He attempts to give you the silent treatment, but he's not good at being quiet. So he might just blow up and ask if you have that little faith in him. Did you think he was so weak and worthless that he couldn't take being knocked down by a shadow?

Doesn't care what kind of excuse you're making, he's just not happy with what you did. You two will need a serious discussion once you get back to the dorms. Until then, he's upset at you.

Makoto

Considering everyone takes hits for him, watching you do it too doesn't surprise him too much. He still doesn't enjoy seeing it happen, but it's a very reluctant acceptance he has come to.

Makoto might just do a team meeting sometime and tell everyone to knock it off. He appreciates not being knocked out by a persona (especially since no one else can revive him apparently), but he doesn't want to constantly see the people he cares for letting shadows harm them for him.

After getting back from Tartarus, he just pulls you along to his room. As punishment for being stupid and taking a hit for him, you get to be the big spoon while he lays on you.

Shinjiro

You're lucky you're his S/O or he's give you a blow to the back of the head for doing something so reckless. Shinjiro is very upset with you for doing that. His life is already cut short, he's fine with dying. Why the hell would you risk your own life like that?

He becomes a very grumpy and upset boyfriend. You get the silent treatment for the rest of the Tartarus visit. He's still keeping an eye out to make sure you don't do something that stupid again, but he's ignoring you besides that.

When you get back to the dorm, his voice is very serious as he calls your name. But instead of scolding you, he pulls you into his arms and mutters about how scared you made him. Tomorrow, you'll get the biggest scolding of your life, but right now he just needs to hold you.

[cinnoasch]

Valentine's Day: SEES Edition

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! I didn't have time to make any for the girls but I might post some later! This was also my first-time writing Shinji so hopefully he's not too out of character. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2886

Minato Arisato

You sigh slightly, turning a box of chocolates over in your hands. You were definitely making this out to be more of a big deal than it was. The school day had ended and you were still sitting there in the classroom. Yukari and Junpei had already left to go back to the dorms and Minato had wandered off somewhere as per usual. 

You were planning to give this box of chocolates to Minato, just to show your appreciation for everything he’s done for SEES. But your nerves got the best of you. This morning, you had walked to school with him and when you tried to give him the box, you immediately went silent when he looked at you. And at lunchtime when you saw him in the hallway, you had turned on your heel when your eyes met. 

You lay your head on your desk sighing once again. “Darn it…”

“Who’s that for?”

Your head shoots up from your desk as you look to see Minato standing next to you. You didn’t even hear him come in.

“Minato! You’re still here. O-oh, um…” You stammer. You look away, tilting the box towards him. “...They’re for you, actually. Just as a thank you for everything you’ve done with SEES and all.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He takes the box and you let out a sigh of relief.

“ …you were really nervous, huh?”

You look at Minato, seeing a slight smirk on his face. “You noticed…?”

“Kinda hard not to. You avoided me all day.”

“Not my fault…”

He chuckles, “Thanks anyways. I appreciate it. Next year though, it’d be nice to see your face when you hand these to me.”

Your eyes widen and your face flushes as Minato grins. “Wanna head back to the dorms? We can share these.”

You laugh slightly as you stand up. “You’re really something sometimes… yeah, let’s head back.”

You follow Minato out of the classroom, the two of you chatting quietly. Maybe things didn’t go as planned, but in one way they worked out. Next year, you definitely would face him with a smile.

Junpei Iori

“Dude, did Y/N give you chocolates?” Junpei asks as he sits on the couch next to Minato. Akihiko was also present, sitting on the couch across from them.

“Yeah.” Minato replies, “Why?”

“I also got some too.” Akihiko adds, looking up from his boxing gloves. “What? They didn’t give you any?”

Junpei groans. “No… I mean Yuka-tan, Fuuka and Mitsuru-senpai gave me some, but that’s more of a teammate thing right? I dunno, I feel like Y/N and I are… more than that, or something.”

Neither Akihiko or Minato respond and Junpei groans again. “Oh c’mon, you guys have nothing to say?”

Minato shrugs. “Did you ask them out?”

“...no. I mean not yet at least.”

“There’s your answer then.”

“Dude, you're no help at all.” Junpei sighs, leaning his head back on the couch. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Maybe you just need to be patient. I don’t even think Y/N came back to the dorms yet.” Akihiko says.

“But the day’s almost over! …Okay, I’m going to look for them!”

Junpei gets up and heads out the door without another word. Meanwhile Mitsuru and Yukari enter the lounge from upstairs.

“He has a bit too much energy don’t you think? Should he really be worried about whether Y/N is giving him chocolates or not?” Yukari says with a sigh.

“Hey, let him be. He’s gotta put that energy to use somehow.” Akihiko replies.

Mitsuru sighs. “If only he’d have that amount of energy when it comes to his studies.”

---------------------------------

“Huh? My package hasn’t arrived yet? But I got an email saying it arrived today…” You say to the mail carrier.

“I’m sorry. It was expected to arrive today, but due to unforeseen conditions, it’s been delayed.”

You sigh. “I see… Well, thank you then. Could you give me an estimated arrival date?”

“It should arrive in about 2 days.”

“Great… thank you again.”

You exit the post office sighing once again as you start walking back towards the monorail. Well, there went your plans for the rest of the day. You wanted to surprise a certain someone with a co-op game the two of you mentioned playing together a while ago. You should’ve known there was no way that the game would actually arrive on the day of. Sure, it could have been better planning on your part, but the whole thing had slipped your mind up until last week.

Suddenly you hear a familiar voice call your name.

“Y/N! Finally, I found you!”

You look up and see Junpei running towards you.

“Junpei? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you. Damn, I had no idea where to look so I’ve been running around all over the place.”

“Oh, I was on my way back to the dorms anyways. Were you worried about me or something?”

He chuckles a bit nervously. “Uh, yeah something like that.” Then he looks behind you. “The post office, huh? Picking up something?”

“Ah, yeah I was, but it turns out it’s not here yet.” You smile slightly. “I meant to order it way earlier, but I forgot. Kind of silly of me to think that it would actually arrive today.”

“Was it something for Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah actually… wait, why are you asking so many questions?”  

“N-no reason… Why are you getting so defensive?” 

You cross your arms, looking at Junpei with a smirk. “Ohh, I see. You were looking for me because you were expecting a Valentine’s Day gift, right?”

Junpei scoffs. “No, why would I be expecting something? Valentine’s isn’t even that big of a deal.”

“Uh-huh… so I guess you don’t want your gift when it arrives then.”

His face lights up. “Wait, you got me something? For real?”

“And here I thought you were worried about little ol’ me.”

“Hey, who says I wasn’t?”

You laugh. “I’m just teasing. I appreciate you coming to look for me, even if it was only to get your gift.”

“And if my gift is right in front of me?”

A beat of silence passes and Junpei laughs nervously. “That was lame, forget I said anything.”

“It was a little lame… but I don’t mind it.” You say, whispering the last part. “Anyways, let’s head back to the dorms.”

“Did you say something? Something along the lines of ‘ I don’t mind it’?”

You don’t say anything as you start to walk past him.

“Hey c’mon! I’m just playin’!”

Akihiko Sanada

“Hey guys,” You say walking downstairs into the lounge. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, hey Senpai.” Junpei says with a grin. He and Minato were sitting at the table with a large pile of small boxes in front of them. They were all wrapped nicely with ribbons. “We’re just going through Akihiko-senpai’s Valentine’s Day gifts.”

“Uh, isn’t that an invasion of privacy?” 

“Not necessarily. He gave us permission to look through them. You should’ve seen him when he came back to the dorms. He had no clue what to do with all of it. He said we could take some if we wanted. Man, getting all of this from girls and he just gives it away?”

“Well, it’s not like he’d eat it all anyway.” You say, then you look over at Minato. “I didn’t think you’d be taking some.”

Minato shrugs. “Free SP items, I’m not complaining.”

“Right…so where’d Akihiko head off to?”

“I think he said something about going for a run towards the shrine. He left not long ago so you could probably catch up to him.” Junpei replies. 

“Thanks, see you guys later.”

You set off towards the shrine hoping to find Akihiko. When you arrived, the sun was setting, the pink and orange hue gently enveloping the area. You spot Akihiko sitting on top of the jungle gym, looking at the sky.

“Hey there Mr. Popular.” You say walking up. “You look worn out.”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Akihiko asks, a surprised look on his face.

“I heard from Minato and Junpei that you might be here. Mind if I join you?”

“Yeah, come on up.”

You climb up the jungle gym and Akihiko gives you a hand to lift you up. You sit next to him, looking up at the sky. “So, you had quite a day, huh? I saw Junpei and Minato with your gifts in  the lounge.”

Akihiko lets out a sigh. “Yeah. You wouldn't believe the amount of people in my classroom during lunch. Even the teacher had trouble getting them out of there.”

“Heh, I bet. I could hear those girls from down the hallway. ‘Sanada-senpai, these are for you!’ ‘Happy Valentine’s Day Sanada-san, please accept these!’ And so on and so forth.”

He hums in reply, chuckling slightly at your impression. Silence settles between the two of you as you continue to watch the sunset on the horizon. Then Akihiko speaks up.

“So, what brought you all the way over here? You weren't looking for me were you?”

“I was actually.” You say, handing two small boxes over. “You're probably tired of hearing this, but Happy Valentine's Day, Aki.” 

Akihiko freezes when he hears the nickname and his face flushes, his ears are tinted red. You laugh a bit when you see his expression. “Sorry, it slipped out. I must've picked it up from Shinjiro. I’ll be more careful.”

“N-no! I mean…” Akihiko clears his throat, taking the boxes. “It's fine. You can call me Aki… if you want.”

You smile. “Maybe I will. It's pretty funny to see you like this.”

“Hey, don't tease me.” He sighs. Then he starts to open one of the boxes. “Hm, dark chocolate?”

“Yeah, you don't like sweets that much right? I figured you might like it better than milk chocolate.”

Akihiko nods as he takes a piece out, popping it into his mouth. “It’s good. Not too sweet, and it has some bitterness to it. This is something I wouldn’t mind having every once in a while.”

“Good, cause I know how to make them.”

“You made these?”

“I asked Shinjiro for help… which is probably where I picked up calling you Aki.” You chuckle nervously. “If you want I can give you the recipe.”

“Hm, how about we make it together then? It’d probably be good for me to learn how to make something more complex anyways.”

“Sure. We can get Shinjiro to join in as well.”

“Heh, he’d probably just yell at me whenever I do something wrong.”

The two of you laugh as Akihiko goes to open the other box. He unwraps it, revealing a small keychain, a pair of boxing gloves to be exact. He looks at you, holding it up. “You got these for me?”

You nod. “I saw it at Paulownia Mall one day and you came to mind. Sorry, it’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?”

Akihiko shakes his head, a small smile appears on his face. “No, I don’t think so at least. Hearing you say that you thought of me… it’s a nice feeling. I’ll have to put this on my bag so that way I can think of you when I see it.”

This time you freeze at Akihiko’s words, you can feel your face flush as you try to come up with a response. You weren’t even sure if he realized the effect of his words.

“Hm? What’s wrong? Your face got all red…  well it is getting a bit chilly, huh? Do you want to head back to the dorms?”

“Ah… yeah, let’s head back.” You say with a smile. You climb down the jungle gym and Akihiko follows you down.

“Hey actually,  how about we get some beef bowls? It’ll be the perfect thing to warm you up.”

“Okay,” You say, winking playfully before you take off running. “Last one there is paying!”

“H-hey! You got a head start, that’s cheating!” 

Shinjiro Aragaki

“Okay, and now we wait…” You mumble quietly, putting a tray of chocolates into the fridge.

You’re currently in the kitchen, attempting to make a batch of chocolate for Valentine’s Day. Well, before the end of the day that is. Yes, you were a bit late, but for good reasons. Shinjiro was always away from the dorms so you couldn’t really ask for his preferences in sweets. At this point, it wasn’t any secret who you were making these for since you had to ask the other SEES members for information. Interestingly enough, there was no one in the dorms so you figured they all had plans for today. 

You let out a sigh as you lean against the counter. To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what led you to make chocolates for him. Maybe curiosity? Despite having been a part of the team  for a while, you barely knew anything about him. You weren’t the most stealthy person; so when you tried to follow Shinjiro once, he immediately caught you and told you to go back to the dorms. You did try to follow him again a few times after that, but of course failed. He didn’t seem much for conversation either so you never really talked to him, but you suppose you should have tried harder if you were really curious about him.

Just then the dorm doors open and you step out of the kitchen to see who it is.

“Oh, you’re back early today.” You say, seeing Shinjiro walk inside.

He looks up at you then averts his gaze. “Yeah.” He glances around. “...it’s quiet today. Guess you’re the only one here?”

“Mhm, looks like everyone has plans.”

Shinjiro stays quiet for a moment then looks at you again. “Are you making chocolate? I smelled it when I came in.”

You nod. “I’m just waiting for it to harden. Want to wait with me? I could use the company, and you could be my taste tester.”

He lets out a sigh, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “I might as well. Not like I got anything better to do.”

“Perfect!”

You turn on your heel, walking back into the kitchen as Shinjiro joins you. Once he steps into the kitchen, his attention is drawn to the bowls on the counter. “You added filling?”

“Yeah, it’s dark chocolate so I figured it would be a nice contrast. You aren’t allergic to raspberries are you?”

“No.”

After that curt response, silence fills the space. Well, this was more awkward than you wanted it to be. Your gaze falls onto the bowls and you walk over, picking one up and bringing it to the sink.

“Uh, do you want to dry these after I wash them?”

Shinjiro only nods as he picks up a drying cloth and you start washing the bowls. It's only when you hand him a bowl to dry that he says something. 

“...So, I heard you've been asking about me.”

You freeze slightly, then you chuckle. “Yeah, I have. Let me guess… Junpei?”

“Yeah.” Shinjiro sighs. “Y’know, if you wanted to know about me… you could’ve just asked.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“You could just say you were intimidated.”

“No-no! I wasn’t. I’m not…well, maybe a little, but I was only asking the other members for good reasons.” You say handing him the last bowl. You turn off the faucet and dry your hands. “Those chocolates in the fridge are for you.”

Shinjiro looks at you in surprise. “Me?

“Yeah, I guess you can consider them as… friendship chocolates? I was wondering what you liked in terms of sweets so I was asking around. I guess I went with raspberry filling since it's close to the color of your jacket.”

He looks at his jacket. “...I guess.” He sets the bowl down along with the towel and leans against the counter. “Well, next time, you can just ask me. We’re teammates right? You don’t have to be scared to ask me stuff. It’s not like I’ll bite or anything.”

You laugh a bit. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.” Your gaze turns towards the clock and you walk towards the fridge. “I think they might be done now.”

You take the tray out and set it on the table, touching one of the chocolates to see if it’s solid. You nod happily and pick one up to give to Shinjiro. “Here!”

Instead of taking it with his hand, he leans his head down to pick it up with his mouth. You freeze once again when his gaze meets yours, then he raises his head, chewing the chocolate.

“Hm, not bad. This is your first time making it right?”

“O-oh, um yes.” You say, glancing away from him. 

“Next time, you should try to add more cocoa powder for the bitterness. You were going for dark chocolate, yeah?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure how much to add.”

You feel his hand fall on top of your head as he ruffles your hair. “We can make them together next time then. Don’t look so down.” 

You smile, “I look forward to it then.”

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (this is fluff and like just him giggling and being cute - wk: 0.4k)

the sun is warm, the river is bubbling, and childe is beautiful. he’s everything he ought to be and more: a boy turned killer, a sheep turned wolf. fear turned strength. and yet, through the violence, through the strain and the bloodshed and the fights that haunt his nightmares, he is utterly, captivatingly beautiful.

(you’d never tell him this, of course. he knows he’s pretty, not even as an afterthought, not when he uses it to his advantage, when he knows he can bat his eyelashes at guards and get ushered inside silently, when he can rest a palm on a stranger’s shoulder and have them on their knees offering themselves to him. it makes your stomach tight, even though you know he’ll always blush and wave his hands apologetically and refuse.)

instead, you let your gaze travel across his torso, over scarred shoulders and down the planes of his chest. tracing down well-earned muscles, to where his hips obscure beneath the river water-

“it’s not polite to stare.”

at his voice, you stagger back. there’s a momentary flinch, something you grew up expecting when being scolded, when you’ve done something wrong.

but the strike only comes as a giggle, bright like the asters blooming through the mud. you think you used to hate the way they smelled this time of year, too nauseating and cloying; since you’ve been coming here to swim with childe, you can’t remember why you would have ever loathed something so sweet.

another giggle, and he shifts to reveal an inch more of his waist beneath the current. “i don’t mind, you know, but you at least have to tell me you think i’m pretty.”

at that, your fists clench and your neck burns. there’s a world in which you do tell him, in which you whisper how captivating it is to watch his limbs move as he fights, how he makes violence look graceful, how you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he does his morning stretches, how you would rip the sun out of the sky because it dares to compete with his beauty (and yet still manages to lose - many things lose to childe, you’ve grown to learn).

but not this world. in this one, you groan, and let your open palm splash water at him. it hits his face in droplets and dampens the strands of his hair, now the same shade as the riverbed‘s flowers.

he lunges back at you (a boy well-trained to never run from a fight), and you let him tackle you, let the cool shock of the water tingle your skin as you’re pushed beneath it for half a second.

when you surface, he’s giggling again, and for a moment you want to pick every aster that dares to listen, undeserving of hearing the sound. but instead, you splash more water at him, and he never stops smiling.

a/n: i think he likes swimming whenever possible bc it was too cold in snezhnaya to do it anyways i want to hear him giggle for the rest of my life

[thatsitso]

The First Star

[susscrofaaa]

[daistea]

Might I… request a fic about Kabru and Mithrun (respectively) encountering a succubus that appeals to them by taking on the form of the reader. While the reader is standing Right There

oh my goodness this was so fun for me. However, it was only after I finished writing it that I realized what 'respectively' implied. So this did not happen respectively, I'm sorry. I think it's funnier this way, though, if that's any solace.

If you still want this prompt done for them both separately, then let me know and I'll be happy to do that!

Mithrun x Reader x Kabru (not a love triangle, no established relationship)

2000 words!

no tw except for a very mild implication

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The first sign of danger was the cloying, saccharine smell that consumed every inch of the room. It was as if the air had been replaced with pure perfume created to appeal to a specific victim. 

Kabru’s eyes fluttered as he recognized the scent of Utaya’s fields, especially the moments when the breeze would roll across the wheat and envelop him in a warm hug. Then, there was the hint of Milsiril’s kitchen, which wasn’t a scent he would usually describe as appealing. Yet, it sunk into his skin and made his heart clench.

To Mithrun, the petrichor was faint, but recognizable. It was just a hint in the back of his mind, bringing up a split second memory of the rainy, rolling green hills of the Northern Central Continent. Since the demon, though, he’d never been particularly sentimental of his home. As if the source of the scent read his mind and realized that, the perfume in the air gently switched to something savory, like elf cake. He didn’t care about that either. Again, the scent switched to wildflowers. He didn’t care about that either. And once more—

Succubi were so annoying, so invasive. Mithrun sighed and nudged Kabru with his elbow, “There’s monsters nearby.”

Kabru caught on almost immediately, “Succubi?” Without waiting for an answer, he glanced over his shoulder at you, of all people. His expressions weren’t as well-guarded when with you and Mithrun, and the Captain recognized the concern that flickered over his face. Mithrun’s hand twitched with the urge to grab Kabru by the hair and redirect his stare elsewhere, perhaps onto the life-sucking mosquito monsters that were slowly approaching from the shadows. 

The dungeon was a collapsed ruin, but still traversable to those determined enough. You had insisted on coming with Mithrun on one of his regular explorations of the ruins. Once Kabru had discovered that you were going with Mithrun, he insisted upon coming along as well despite his obvious distaste for the place. There was some deeper reasoning behind his decision, Mithrun knew. Whether or not you knew that, though, remained to be seen. 

There was rubble in the corners and moss growing between the cracks in the stones. One wrong step and the ceiling could easily fall. It was wise to have more than one person when encountering a succubi, yet all the times Mithrun had encountered them in the past had ended up in his favor. The succubi didn’t quite know what to do with him. He cast you and Kabru a wary glance, though— you two were far more susceptible. 

“Just stay close,” Kabru said as he took a careful step forward. He reached out a hand behind him, grabbing for your wrist. You let him take your arm, and Mithrun felt his shoulders tense. 

“The wisest thing to do would be to cover your eyes,” Mithrun mused. As he spoke, he took your other hand. In response to that, Kabru released your wrist and also held your hand. For a moment, you felt like the rope in a game of tug-of-war. It wasn’t the worst feeling, but perhaps one of the most confusing. 

Mithrun and Kabru led you through the ruined room. The shadows were thick and alive with the scuffling of feet, the brushing of wings against the wall. Kabru did his best to hide his concern, but his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed down whatever he was feeling. A quick glance at Mithrun confirmed that the Captain was not at all bothered by the cloying scent of succubi, their calling card and greeting. They could strike at any moment, yet he remained calm. 

“It will be fine,” Mithrun’s voice cut through the tension, “just close your eyes.”

Kabru sent him a look over his shoulder, “‘It’ll be fine’ is easy for you to say, Captain.”

“It is, the succubi have never really known what to make of me.”

You imagined a life-sucking, giant mosquito monster just staring at Mithrun as it tried to process what it was seeing. Yet, just the other day, Mithrun had expressed a small desire for a specific dish. 

You snorted, “Your desires are coming back, though. You never know, it may take the form of an unseasoned elf casserole.”

Kabru put up a gloved hand to stifle his laugh, “Yeah, with boiled chicken and white rice without an ounce of salt.”

You could practically feel the heat of Mithrun’s stare on the back of your neck. “Elven cuisine is an acquired taste.”

“As in… once you actually acquire taste, you’ll move onto much better food?” You asked. 

You would’ve liked to share a high-five with Kabru over that one, but the familiar buzz of a mosquito interrupted the laughter. The three of you froze as a flicker of mana filled the air. Mithrun didn’t seem worried, this succubi obviously wasn’t for him, but—

Kabru put out an arm in front of you as if to shield you from… yourself. 

An exact copy of you stepped out of the shadows. Its eyes were wide with a look that could only be described as desperate desire. Its cheeks were flushed and brows furrowed, every ounce of attention focused precisely on Kabru. 

Both you and Mithrun looked at him. 

Kabru cleared his throat and looked away. The red on the tips of his ears was undeniable. 

How were you supposed to feel about that? Flattered? There was some flattery in it, though it was mixed with mild horror at the absolutely breathless and desperate version of yourself that he apparently desired. Was that what you looked like? You were sure you never made a face like that. (You did, last week when Melini had a heatwave and Kabru had fetched you a glass of water. The memory haunted him.)

To your right, Mithrun raised a shaking hand. His shoulders trembled a little and he closed his eyes. His brows furrowed as he exhaled shakily. He looked as if he was only held together by a thin piece of string and a wad of chewing gum. The sight made your heart skip a beat in panic until you noticed the slight twitch of his lips. 

He was trying not to laugh. 

You choked on air. Kabru also choked on air, but for a very different reason. The succubus copy of you slowly sauntered toward him– you do not saunter like that, you would never saunter in such a manner, with that hungry look in your eyes and your lips parted ever so slightly. Horrifying. But like all good horrifying things, it also made you want to kneel over and start laughing until your stomach hurt. 

“Kabru,” you gasped, barely holding yourself together, “You—”

“Shut up!” He snapped as he took several steps back, “Don’t overthink it! It’s nothing! It’s–”

Mithrun interrupted with a heavy, resigned sigh. He took a casual step forward and touched the succubus version of you on the shoulder. Its eyes widened and it tensed, but before it could react, it was gone. You were pretty sure he teleported it into a nearby wall, judging by the muffled, strangled hisses coming from nearby. 

Kabru was still red, “I can explain.”

“I don’t think that requires an explanation,” Mithrun said flatly. 

“You know what?” He glared, “Not everybody can be as unaffected as y—”

Another buzz, another footstep on the stone floor. The three of you froze once more as another succubus stepped out of the shadows. 

It was also you. 

Fortunately, this version of you was much less desperate. Yet there was something about it that reminded you of a painting in a cathedral. Perhaps it was the look in its familiar eyes, the sheer love and affection it held as it stared at Mithrun as if he was the only person who ever existed. 

“That’s not mine,” Kabru said.

And it obviously wasn’t yours. Both you and Kabru looked at Mithrun. 

The Captain was tense, his body taut like the string of a bow. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stared at the succubus. His good eye was wide and he kept blinking as if that might help clarify the existence of a version of you that looked at him so adoringly. 

He schooled his expression and casually pointed at the love-struck succubus, “That’s not mine.”

“Of course it’s yours!” Kabru snapped, “Who else’s could it be?!”

Mithrun only shrugged. The soft tinge of pink on his cheeks betrayed his feelings. 

Once again, you were at a loss of what to think. It was sweet. Your heart fluttered and emotion filled your throat. Yet, did he truly desire for you to look at him like that? Did he lie awake at night, wondering what it would feel like to have every ounce of your attention on him, to value him so dearly that you were incapable of seeing anyone else? The very idea knocked the breath from your lungs. 

Except, Kabru ran a sword through the adoring, angelic version of you, and the mosquito monster screeched in a very not-you way. Mithrun only grimaced and chose to stare at the wall instead.

“Okay, so hopefully that’s the last of them,” you said. Your cheeks felt very warm. Kabru and Mithrun both desired you, though in different ways. You didn’t think that was possible. There was nothing more you wanted to do at that moment than run and hide and mull over possible explanations for what you’d just seen.

“Wait,” Mithrun stretched out an arm in front of you, “there’s one more.”

Despite his serious tone, awkwardness permeated the air. You were practically choking on it, unable to breathe normally because all your body could process was sheer embarrassment. Kabru’s ears were red. Mithrun looked more dead inside than usual. None of you would meet each other’s eyes. 

The last succubus stepped out of the shadow. First, you saw a brown boot, then a familiar hand, then a familiar face. 

You gasped, holding your chest as if afraid that your heart might burst through your skin. “I-It’s you…”

Mithrun and Kabru both looked at you. “It’s…” Mithrun couldn’t finish his sentence. 

But Kabru could, “Your biggest desire is… The meat pie vendor who sets up shop on the corner on Thursdays?!”

He said it as if that was a bad thing. 

The meat pie vendor smiled seductively and held out a fresh, steaming hot meat pie. You took a step forward, your hand trembling as you reached for the treat. 

“You don’t even want him romantically!” Kabru yelled, “You just want him to give you food!”

Once again, he said it as if that was a bad thing. 

Before your hand could brush along the flaky, warm exterior of the meat pie, Kabru pulled out his sword. Mithrun grabbed a broken piece of wood from the ground. It happened too quickly. There was no time to defend your desire. You gasped as the sword ran through the beloved meat pie vendor’s stomach, and as the wood was teleported through his neck. With an inhuman screech, the succubus collapsed to the floor. 

Your friends, who wanted you, had just killed the one thing you wanted… Your heart was torn in two. 

It was a complete mystery why both Mithrun and Kabru stormed out of the dungeon without saying one word to you. You were the one that should’ve been mad. 

Still, as you took Kabru’s hand in your left and Mithrun’s in your right, they both gave your fingers a light squeeze. 

Still, “We’re never doing this again,” Kabru said. 

Mithrun nodded. You grimaced. And none of you ever spoke of it again. 

[daistea]

"𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜" - 𝙼𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 

 (Learning a new language is always hard at first)

  gn reader, implied to be a short lived race

  5,000+ words :o 

  tw: minor description of violence and blood

  Post-canon Mithrun, could be considered spoilers

An ink black eye flickered up and landed on your face. You knew it was there. You always knew when it was there. The light shiver that ran down your back was like a cold finger languidly tracing every bump of your spine. 

 You didn’t know whether you liked it or not. 

 But you accepted it, for the most part. 

 Mithrun’s gaze was devoid of light as you met it. It was only natural for his prosthetic eye to be glassy and lacking in life. Yet, his remaining eye was like that as well. Fleki liked to joke that the captain had ‘dead fish eyes’ and you could see what she meant sometimes. Most of the time, though, you considered his gaze to be more like an endless pit. An endless pit that you were always on the verge of falling into.

 But you managed to keep your balance— for the most part. 

 It didn’t help that Mithrun stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. If you were in an especially combative mood, you’d meet his gaze and stare back. His good eye would start to flicker a little, like when a cat slowly shuts its eyes. You once heard that cats slow blink to signify that they love you. But Mithrun wasn’t a cat. He was an elf. An elf who had a habit of trying to consume you with his gaze alone. 

 It was one of the days when you couldn’t help but return his look. You glanced up from your plate of food, fork in your left hand and your other hand fiddling with a napkin. Ever since the dungeon, Mithrun had become more physically expressive. He had his elbow on the table and his cheek resting in his palm. As his sleeve fell down his forearm ever so slightly, you could see a hint of a pale scar. 

 “Don’t you ever get tired?” You couldn’t help but ask. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop to think about the consequences or implications. 

 Mithrun only blinked. A slow blink. 

 “No,” he answered simply. His voice wasn’t what one would call particularly deep or rumbling, but it was scratchy. When you heard him speak for the first time, you wondered if he had ever drank a glass of water in his life. 

 And the lack of inflection in his tone was something you eventually got used to. With a sharp ear, you could pick up the lilts at the end of his sentences when he asked a question. You recognized when he was annoyed, when the growl in his throat got more pronounced. You knew when he was sad, when emotion thickened every word. It was all subtle, learned. And you were good at learning. 

 For the most part. 

 “I don’t mean physically,” you replied, returning your attention to the food on your plate. 

 “Then?”

 “I mean—” What did you mean? You weren’t quite sure. You were sure of the fact that you didn’t want this particular vegetable as part of your lunch. So you lifted your plate and absently scraped it off onto Mithrun’s. He didn’t react. 

 He did, though, slightly raise his brow. He shifted to sit up a little, moving his palm to his chin instead, eyes still lingering on you like petrichor after a rain shower. The slight tilt of his head told you that he was expecting an answer. 

 You forced the words to the tip of your tongue. It was rare for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, especially around Mithrun. As unreadable as he could be, the assurance that it was difficult to genuinely offend him was comforting. Except, this instance was different. If you openly acknowledged his habit of staring, that was too close for comfort to a much bigger acknowledgement. Mithrun’s heart, and yours, were closely guarded, surrounded by layers of walls. He’d knocked down a few of yours. You’ve knocked down several of his. But going any further was risky, at least in your opinion. The walls were bigger and more well guarded and seizing them might not produce anything good, anything worthwhile. 

 But his head was tilted and he was watching you. You felt as if you were on a stage with a spotlight shining down on you. 

 Might as well get it over with. 

 “Staring,” you said, “don’t you ever get tired of staring?”

 His good eye blinked. You’ve seen Mithrun surprised or shocked before, and you knew he wasn’t. Then, that meant he was expecting that question. He was aware of his staring and was doing it on purpose. 

 “No, I don’t get tired of it,” Mithrun said as he sat up straight, elbow slipping off the table. He grabbed his fork and began poking at the food you had scraped off onto his plate. Peeking just barely through his hair were the chewed, jagged tips of his ears. They flickered. Elves really couldn’t hide their emotions well, their ears tended to give them away. 

 The fact that he was feeling anything made your heart flutter. If only you knew what it was. It couldn’t be embarrassment or shame, those didn’t exist within Mithrun. Then what? What else could someone be feeling when called out for their habit of excessive staring? 

 “I mean, I’d just like to know why,” you said without thinking, again. It was rare for either of you to feel as if you needed to fill the comfortable silence you often shared, but at that moment in particular your heart was clenching and something unpleasant passed through your abdomen. The question had crawled up your throat and slipped out of  your mouth. 

 “Why I stare at you?” He asked. You were seventy five percent sure it was a question. But sometimes, Mithrun would simply state something, not asking at all, just echoing. You could usually tell the difference in the lift of his voice. Subtle, but there. 

 “Yeah,” you met his gaze. Ink black. You started to teeter on the edge of the dark pit again. “Do you stare at everybody like that?”

 “Do you ever see me staring at other people like this?”

 No. And Mithrun knew that you didn’t. The question was hypothetical, designed to draw the answer out of you. 

 You felt your jaw tighten as you stared down at your food. You’d missed something, a little morsel of a vegetable you didn’t like. You promptly scraped it off onto Mithrun’s plate before answering him. “I guess I don’t.”

 “And?”

 Fire flickered to life inside your chest. “And what?” You snapped your gaze back to his, “What do you want?”

 His brow raised, “You’re the one who wanted something.”

 “I want to know why you’re always staring!”

 “Why do you think?”

 You couldn’t help but groan, burying your face in your hand, “Mithrun, please just give me a straight answer. I can’t handle this right now.”

 “Why not?”

 Glancing up, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly. His ears flickered again. Was he enjoying this? As much as he could enjoy something, at least, which was more than before the dungeon. 

 That fire within you only grew taller and hotter and more destructive. The flames warmed your heart but also threatened to burn through your bones and muscles and ligaments and consume your body entirely. You didn’t know whether you wanted to smack Mithrun over the head, or grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close for a kiss. 

 Or both? Both were good. 

 You managed to resist the urge growing beneath your skin and instead shot him a weak glare, “Because— Because you’re not eating and it’s weird for me to be the only one eating right now, especially with you staring at me, watching me chew.”

 Half true. 

 Mithrun’s nose wrinkled a little in thought. Slowly, he grabbed his fork and speared one of the unwanted vegetables you’d given him, finally eating. Relief flooded your body, until his gaze flickered back up to your face once more. 

 “Happy?” He asked before swallowing. 

 “Never,” you snarked back, “you’re still staring. Why?”

 Did you want to know? 

 Another wall was crumbling and you were doing all you could to keep it from crushing you beneath bricks and emotions and emotional bricks. It was a mistake to ask that question, to even bring this subject up. You couldn’t go that far. You shouldn’t knock down those walls. You wouldn’t acknowledge the terrifying, unknown thing that had been growing between you and Mithrun ever since he’d decided to live. 

 You remembered that day. Celebrations surrounded you. Mithrun’s hand clenched the grass beneath him, the only betrayal of his feelings at the time. His knuckles turned white, but he finally let go as the realization, the emptiness, settled in; acceptance of the fact that he had nothing to live for anymore. 

 You remembered the relief when it all changed, when the listlessness disappeared. You remembered Senshi’s words. You remembered the sting of hot tears in the corners of your eyes as Mithrun smiled for the first time in forever. 

 It was a secret tucked inside your chest, kept close, chained up. But at night, when you stared at the ceiling with bright eyes and racing thoughts, you let the secret out just a little bit. You loved the captain like a desert dweller loved an oasis. You loved the captain like flowers loved rain. You loved the captain like—

 “I can’t not stare at you,” Mithrun’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You crashed back down to Melini, to the restaurant and to him, shattering on the floor and making a complete mess. 

 “What?” Your voice was just as scratchy as his now. You grabbed your sweating glass of water and gulped it down. 

 Mithrun waited for you to finish before he continued, “I can’t not stare at you. It’s simply what I do. What I want.”

 And he wanted so little. 

 The wall crumbled, and you internally cursed yourself before returning Mithrun’s gaze. “You don’t want that.”

 “I want that.”

 Was this really happening? Years of longing, of denial, of fear, all built up into one moment. And the moment was taking place in a dingy restaurant where you and Mithrun were surrounded by chattering people and the scrape of utensils on plates. Nearby, someone laughed. But it was as if cotton had been stuffed into your ears, your focus entirely on the elf sitting across from you— and his dead fish stare.

 You began to consider your possibilities:

 Option 1: Kiss him. 

 Option 2: Fake a heart attack to get out of this.

 Option 3: Explain your fears about starting an official relationship with him. 

 Option two looked best. 

 You put a hand to your chest and coughed a little, “I-I think I’m—”

 Mithrun rolled his good eye and stood up. The legs of his chair scraped across the ground as he loomed over the table, looking down at you. “Let’s go already, we have work to do.”

 You scoffed, “I’m kind of busy having a heart attack here.”

 “The heart attack excuse didn’t work when you wanted to get out of that dinner with the Canaries, and it won’t work now.”

 He was right. He was always right. You hated that. 

 You stood up as well. Mithrun went to the front of the restaurant to pay. People used to cast him curious glances as he passed by, but very few did that anymore. The locals of Melini knew who Mithrun was and were generally used to his presence. Plus, the kingdom had become a melting pot of different races and cultures as of late. Seeing an elf wasn’t too surprising these days. 

 You watched the back of his head. He had a curl there. He’d always had that curl. Something in the back of your mind desperately urged you to wrap it around your finger. 

 Mithrun cast you a flat glance as he made for the front door. “Are you going to just stand there? Or are you coming?”

 Your frown covered up the flutter of your heart. You followed, silent, grumpy, your right hand itching to take his left. 

 And as you followed him into the street, you noticed, just for half a second, that his fingers flexed, then curled into a fist before releasing.

 This was bad. How could the people of Melini happily go about their lives as your world started to shift? How was the sun still shining? Why didn’t time stop for you as the growing thing between you and Mithrun got too large to ignore?

 (Perhaps you were being too dramatic.)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

 The captain did not only stare. He touched. 

 It was weird, really, because he didn’t enjoy being touched. Mithrun would prefer to keep his personal space, you knew. The Canaries often invaded it and he said nothing to stop them, but you saw the twitch of his ear, the slight narrowing of his good eye. Lately, since he’d been learning how to be more expressive, he would sigh. It was that kind of sigh that told the listener precisely what he wanted, the kind of sigh that spoke a thousand words his lips refused to say. Those thousands of words usually consisted of ‘get away from me’ or ‘stop touching me.’ 

 He never sighed with you. 

 But perhaps that was because you knew better than to invade his personal space. He had no qualms invading yours. He touched you. Often. At first, you noticed it too much. The feeling of Mithrun’s hand on the small of your back made your mind race with questions. Eventually, you got used to it and hardly noticed it anymore. 

 But that hyper awareness had returned since the staring conversation. 

 And also since the staring conversation, he touched you more than ever before. 

 Mithrun’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were always cold, for some reason. He held up your wrist between your bodies, but he wasn’t looking at you. His attention was on something rustling through the forest. His other hand leaned against the rough bark of a tree. There was absolutely no reason for Mithrun to be holding your wrist right now, but you had a feeling he didn’t even notice what he was doing. 

 “Quiet,” he said in a low tone, casting you a glance, “there’s someone up ahead.”

 “Someone?” You asked, “Not something?”

 “Yes. Someone.”

 Melini had many types of people. Most of them were good, interested in the future of the nation. Yet the existence of an entirely new country caught the attention of other types of people. The laws weren’t yet established, Laois didn’t really care about imposing taxes, and homes were still being built. While it had settled down as of late, criminals still flocked to the area. 

 Mithrun cast you another glance. His good eye, black, flickered up and down your body. The look only lasted for half a second, but it still made heat flare up in your abdomen. 

 “Stay here,” he commanded. 

 The heat disappeared as you sent him an incredulous stare, “Excuse me?”

 “Stay here,” he echoed.

 “No,” the argument escaped your lips quickly and harshly, “I’m going with you. There could be any number of people out here and I won’t let you face them alone.”

 His eye narrowed slightly as he turned to fully face you, “There’s a chance I won’t even be fighting. They could simply be hikers.”

 “Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re on edge.”

 Another narrowed eye, another flicker of his ears. The chewed tips slowly lowered, pressing back against his head, barely visible through wavy locks of silver. You’ve always thought that when elves did that, they looked quite aerodynamic. 

 “Fine,” his voice was flatter than usual, “but stay close to me. I won’t allow you to be hurt.”

 Mithrun released your wrist, but his fingers deftly slid down your skin, across your palm. A shiver ran through you as he tangled your fingers together. They were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, created specifically to hold each other. 

 And Mithrun didn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the fact that he was now holding your hand. He simply turned and began trudging through the foliage of the forest, gently pulling you behind him. Did he have any idea what he’d done? Did his sharpened elf hearing notice the pumping of your heart? Would he even acknowledge it? 

 He held your hand tight, as if afraid you would slip away. 

 “They know we see them,” Mithrun murmured. Tension filled the air and threatened to suffocate you. It was the feeling of danger, and a tingling through your limbs that made your hairs stand to attention. 

 He pushed aside a thorn bush, not caring when the sharp tips pricked his skin or when they clung to his clothes like childish hands trying to desperately keep him from leaving. He slowed down a little so you could navigate the bushes more carefully. His fingers slipped away from yours, but he kept your hand, holding it up like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage. 

 The moment you escaped the bush, he interlocked your fingers once more. 

 Your mind raced as you followed him. Why was Mithrun holding your hand? What did it mean? Was he trying to acknowledge your relationship? Impossible. That was impossible. Mithrun surely didn’t want a relationship with you. There was something between you two, obviously, but it wasn’t anything either of you were ever going to do anything about. At least you thought as much. His desires weren’t just going to randomly appear again. And surely you weren’t special enough to cultivate anything new within him. No, Mithrun was just being—

 The taut pull of a bow string filled the air. It happened too quickly. The whish of an arrow cutting through the atmosphere— it sliced the tension in half so smoothly, like butter. You only caught a glimpse of it as it came straight for your chest. 

 But it never hit you. You’d closed your eyes without realizing, but when you recognized an utter lack of pain, your eyes shot open to inspect the situation. 

 Mithrun still held your hand. Tight. A little too tight. You could see his jawline clenched, his ears pushed back. In front of you, only inches away from your chest, was the arrow. He’d caught it mid air. His hand was wrapped around the shaft and his knuckles were white as he gripped it. 

 Your heart didn’t just skip. It flipped, did an entire gymnastics routine, then promptly flopped onto the floor and passed out. 

 There were wasps in your stomach. Not butterflies. Wasps. 

 And Mithrun was angry. His chest rose and fell before he slipped his hand away from yours. You only caught a glimpse of his face as he turned away, but you could see the flicker of silver consuming the black; the crackle of a flame, the flip of a switch, a lightning strike in the distance. 

 He reared his arm back and promptly launched the arrow at something between the trees. A guttural noise erupted. It was thick with something, pain or blood or shock or fear. A tall-man stumbled out of hiding with the arrow lodged in the front of his neck, then he collapsed face down in the grass. 

 Silence. 

 Mithrun lowered his arm and stood up straight, staring at the body. 

 Your throat was strangled, but you managed to push the question out nonetheless. “Did you just… throw a goddamn arrow so hard that it went through a man’s neck?”

 “Hm?” Mithrun sent you a glance, his eye widening just the slightest bit. But it returned to the black pit that you were seconds away from falling into. “Oh, yeah, I did.”

 “Just now,” you pointed at the literal corpse laying in front of you, “you killed him.”

 His brows furrowed, “Obviously.”

 “Why?”

 “He was going to kill you,” Mithrun looked at you as if the answer was clear and he was genuinely confused at your bewilderment. He lifted his hand, the left one, and held it out for you expectantly. 

 While your mind raced with questions and horror and a bit of admiration, you placed your hand in his. The air smelled like blood, metallic. Mithrun told you that he wouldn’t allow you to get hurt. He meant it. It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of your lungs. 

 Maintaining eye contact, he leaned forward, pressing his dry lips to your knuckles. The forest, the chirping of birds, even the warmth of the sun overhead, faded into the background. All you knew at that moment were his cold fingers holding yours, the feeling of his lips on your skin, the lingering look he was giving you. 

 Damn.

 His expression wasn’t blank this time. His good eye wasn’t lifeless. He looked at you through his lashes, his gaze glued to your face. Or perhaps not glued, but rather welded. He didn’t smile, he didn’t blush. But the intent was clear. His lips gently brushed across your knuckles for precisely four seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your heart started to do its gymnastics routine again. 

 You could’ve lived beneath the spotlight of his gaze forever. 

 Yet soon enough, he dropped your hand and turned away. The tension dissipated like mist as he began walking, casually stepping over the corpse. “Let’s go. There’s been reports of a cockatrice nearby.”

 Right. Monsters. Work. 

 You looked at the corpse and the blood soaking into the soft earth, drying to a darker color on the leaves and grass. You should’ve been horrified, but…

 The fact that Mithrun was willing to kill for you only made you burn. Your knees were weak.

 This was a desperate situation. This was a confusing situation. This was the kind of situation that required an expert. 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

 “Are you stupid?” Cithis asked. 

 Perhaps. You weren’t quite sure anymore. 

 You held a coffee mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it as you sent Cithis a pleading look. She returned your expression with something like boredom and disinterest. White braided hair fell over her bare shoulder. She sat across from you with one knee over the other and her hands politely clasped in her lap. While this elf woman was the picture of elegance, you knew what she really was. You knew how she could be. 

  Which was precisely why you’d come to her. 

 “I don’t understand,” you began explaining, feeling a ramble coming on, “he stares at me. He holds my hand. He gets furious if someone tries to hurt me. He looks at me sometimes with this face that almost makes me think he wants me. He—”

 “I think you’re stupid,” Cithis interrupted casually, “Or in denial. You know precisely how the captain feels. Admit it already and stop wasting everybody’s time.”

 You couldn’t help but scowl, “I don’t want to admit it.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because—” the words got caught in your throat and you had to forcefully shove them up and outwards, “Because it freaks me out. I don’t want to ruin the comfort between us. I don’t want Mithrun to one day get tired of me. I don’t want to… to die and leave him behind. He deserves better than that.”

 Cithis only tilted her head, “Don’t you think he deserves to get what he wants? How often does the captain want something?”

 Rarely. And you held the firm belief that when Mithrun wanted something, the world should bend its knee to meet that desire. Yet, this was different. Did he want you? Why? How? How can you be sure? Cithis seemed sure. How? Why?

 Her stare was unamused. She looked at you as if you were a dead fly that landed in her food. 

 “I guess I just don’t want to assume,” you finally said with a heavy exhale.

 “There’s no assumptions to be made here. He wants you. Everybody knows it.”

 Your head shot up, “What?” 

 “Everybody knows it,” her eyes narrowed.

 Nonsense. That couldn’t be true. You scoffed, “No.”

 “No?”

 “No.”

 “Listen,” Cithis leaned forward in her chair, pinning you in place with topaz yellow eyes— or piss yellow, how you described her eyes usually changed depending on your mood. “Many think that the captain makes an effort to hide his emotions. He doesn’t. He’s an open book. It’s simply a very blank book, is all. There’s not much there to read.”

 You knew what Cithis was getting at. You also knew there was more to read than what she thought, because Mithrun was your friend and you adored him and wanted to kiss his face with your face. Still, accepting that remained quite difficult. 

 You shot Cithis a dark look. Her lips twitched into a smile that held not even a hint of humor. 

 “I’m aware,” you said, “however, that doesn’t mean I understand. Does he even know how to flirt? Does he know how a relationship would work with him in this state? Do I know how a relationship would work between us? Does he have any desire to be, you know, intimate? Does he—”

 Cithis interrupted, “Honestly, I believe the captain would burn down the world just to keep you warm. But that’s just my observation.”

 What?

 “What?”

 “Idiot,” she huffed, “he touches you every chance he gets as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t have his hands on you in some way. He stares at you like you’re a damn masterpiece—”

 “He stares at me rather blankly, actually.”

 “But he’s still staring.”

 “Maybe I’ve always got food in my teeth or something on my face.”

 “You know I don’t really enjoy doing this.” Cithis leaned back in her chair and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Her piss yellow eyes narrowed, “It’s much more interesting to watch you and the captain silently orbit each other than it is to so dramatically reveal his feelings. Yet, I think it’s time you stop being foolish and give him what he wants. He’s developed this odd love language for you and I think you should start learning it.”

 She was right. You hated it when Cithis was right. 

 But that was why you’d consulted her in the first place, because you knew she’d be right. Still, how annoying. 

 “Okay,” you threw your hands up, “What do I do? What’s the next step?”

 She smiled softly, but her furrowed brows and pitying eyes made it clear that she was condescending you. You were a child trying to ask her why the sky was blue. 

 “Kiss him, obviously.”

 Kiss him. Just kiss him. How simple. How elementary. The idea of kissing him definitely didn’t fill you with stinging wasps or anything. 

 All you could do was close your eyes to block out the sight of Cithis’s condescension. “Yeah. Kiss him. That’s– Yeah.”

 “Now go,” she waved a dismissive, elegant hand, “off with you.”

 Whatever. You shot her a glare before setting the warm coffee mug on the table in front of her. You’d been gripping it like a lifeline, and you hoped it left a ring on her nice table. Her lips parted in silent offense at the tiny act of revenge. 

 You left Cithis’s home. Were you assured? Yes. Were you going to kiss Mithrun? Probably not. 

 There was still so much to sort through, still so many concerns. Mithrun wanted you and, apparently, everybody knew it. He hadn’t even been trying to hide his feelings all this time. You accepted his staring and his touching and his willingness to do anything you asked as simple friendship. 

 Maybe you should kiss him. 

 Maybe you should—

 “What’re you doing?”

 A shout ripped from your throat. You couldn’t control yourself, you stumbled backward, putting up your hands as your heart jumped and your stomach churned. You knew who it was that had snuck up on you. He did this all the time. 

 “Mithrun,” you hissed, “stop teleporting to me, you know it drives me up a wall!”

 Mithrun’s nose twitched ever so slightly. He was considering your words, just a little. Then he shook his head, “No. I don’t think I’ll stop.”

 Right. Okay. So, he wasn’t willing to do anything you asked of him. Again, you could only wonder if he enjoyed this. Did Mithrun like getting on your nerves? 

 You two were standing outside of Cithis’s little house. She should’ve been in jail, really, but she and the other Canaries had been pardoned, sort of. It was really more like a house arrest. You knew that Cithis didn’t care enough to watch you and Mithrun out her window, but it was still unnerving to be so near her, knowing what she knew. 

 Now, you were the one grabbing him. You took his wrist, gently pulling him down the road. “Come on, we need to talk,” you said. 

 Mithrun’s good eye widened just a little as you led him through the streets of Melini. It was more crowded than usual. Merchants called out to passersby and people laughed and talked and lived their own little lives. And this was your life, now, pulling the man you adored through a crowd in a desperate attempt to find a quiet, private spot. 

 You still hadn’t decided whether or not to kiss him. 

 There was an alley nearby. It seemed relatively clean. You and Mithrun entered the alley and walked around the corner of a stone building before you released his wrist. Yet, immediately, he took your hand, unwilling to allow even a second of no contact between your bodies. 

 The words came flowing out of your mouth as if a dam had broken within you. “Your love language, I’m learning it.”

 He only blinked, “What?”

 “Physical touch,” you raised your other hand, wrapping it around his, “quality time,” you met his eye and considered the possibility of drifting in black ink forever, “acts of service.”

 He blinked once more. “Oh. I see.”

 Your brows furrowed, “Why were you near Cithis’s house anyway?”

 “I was simply passing by when I saw you.”

 “And your first response was to teleport to my side?”

 His head tilted slightly, “Yes. It was.”

 “Why?”

 Now it was his turn to furrow his brows, “Why not? It’s what I wanted to do, so I did it.”

 “And the staring,” you murmured, breathless, “the hand holding, the lingering touches… That’s what you want as well?”

 You didn’t expect Mithrun to react strongly to this conversation, and his reaction fulfilled your expectations. He remained calm, but his gaze lingered strongly on yours. His other hand slowly raised and he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles onto your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into the touch. 

 “Yes,” he answered, voice as scratchy and tired and level as ever, “that’s what I want.”

 “Why?”

 His composure broke just slightly. His eye narrowed and his lips quirked into a little frown. “Why wouldn’t I want to touch and stare at my partner?”

 …What?

 “Excuse me?” Your tone was thick with disbelief as your heart began to do flips. “Your partner?”

  “Yes?” His brows furrowed and he blinked a few times as if confused, “My partner.”

 “...Me?”

 “Yeah.”

 “But—” it was as if someone had punched you in the lungs, “Me?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I’m your partner?”

 A sigh as he closed his eyes. “Yes. You’re my partner. You have been for the last year.”

 “...Huh?”

 His eyes opened to pin you in place, “Were you not aware that we’ve been dating for this long?”

 “No!” You couldn’t help yell, “I wasn’t aware! I thought we were just good friends!”

 Mithrun said your name, tilting his head with a hint of a smile on his lips. He was amused. How rare. You only wish it wasn’t at your expense. “I wouldn’t do these things with just a good friend.”

 Alright. Cithis was right in calling you an idiot. 

 You felt like you were about to explode. You weren’t sure if that explosion would be from anger, embarrassment, or adoration. All three? You were going to self combust, then your flesh would fly everywhere and get on the walls and cause this huge, bloody mess. All that would be left of you were chunks. But if that happened, Mithrun wouldn’t be able to hold your hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stare. You weren’t about to take that away from him. The world needed to kneel and deliver him whatever he desired on a silver platter and you were not about to stop that from happening just because you exploded. 

 “I am in love with you,” you said matter-of-factly. It was pure word vomit. 

 “Yeah,” he remained calm, “I know.”

 He knew. Of course he knew. You wanted so badly to smack him over the head. 

 “If you knew…” your voice was strangled as you resisted every urge to scream, “then why haven’t you ever kissed me?”

 Mithrun shrugged. He shrugged. 

 “Do you want me to?”

 “Yes!” You snapped. 

 “Alright.” He released your hand, then grabbed your face and gently pulled you closer. His lips met yours. You wanted to melt. You were basically a popsicle on a hot summer day, then. And you had no clue what to do with your hands. 

 The kiss was… chaste. And soft. You weren’t quite sure what you expected. Certainly not passion, not from Mithrun. But chaste? That wasn’t right either. It was kind of… laid back, as if he’d kissed you a million times before and this was just another to add to the pile. 

 That wouldn’t do. 

 You figured out what to do with your hands. One gripped the front of his shirt, balling your fingers up in the fabric. The other stretched around his neck and tangled into his hair. He made a small noise of surprise. Satisfaction flickered through your chest. Gently, but firmly, you pulled him closer to you. Your back hit the stone wall. Your chests brushed against each other. His left hand dropped from your cheek and found your waist as he dug his fingers in and suddenly yanked your body against his. 

 There. That was better. 

 Slowly, Mithrun deepened the kiss, tilting his head. His hand slid away from your cheek and found a resting place on the back of your neck. You were both breathing through your noses as you kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. 

 Heat began to build up in your abdomen. Your entire body tingled. He pushed you further against the wall and let out a soft exhale before introducing a soft bite on your lower lip. Another flash of heat wracked you, leaving you breathless. 

 Finally, the need for oxygen dominated and Mithrun pulled back, but only a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, letting out an exhale. 

 “I think… I like that,” he murmured, “We should do more of it.”

 All you could do was nod weakly. 

 “Right. More,” you leaned in, pressing your lips against his, and it started all over again. 

 One might call it a new beginning. In reality, it was a continuation of what always was. You set aside your endless questions and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him some more. 

 You’d officially fallen off the edge. No more teetering, no more balance. You were gone, and you’d never hit the ground. 

[259kmvn]

oblivious

confessions of a flirt to his oblivious childhood friend, tartaglia x reader fluff

tartaglia is hot. everyone knows that. he doesn't shy away from establishing that fact; strutting around like he owns every room he walks into. that's why it's up to you, as his childhood friend who's (supposedly) immune to his hot appearance and demeanour, to put him in his place— just like today.

as usual, you're hanging out with him at the nearby park, enjoying sandwiches and some juice on a wooden bench. "y'know, i still can't believe that you've never dated anyone before," you say mid-sandwich, observing the couples that pass by, "you're too flirtatious to not have any partners." you take a bite before turning to him.

"...you think i'm too hot to not get bitches?" he replies, playful in his wording as he chews his bread. you don't need to see his lips to know that he's smiling.

"you know what i mean," you roll your eyes. "you're always flirting around and making weird faces that are so— like that! just like that!" at that moment, his eyes caught yours, eyebrows theatrically raising in a suggestive manner. the apples of his smooth, soft cheeks rise ever so gently and you have to react quickly before you fall for it—

"stop that, that's disgusting!" you couldn't help but stifle a laughter, "see? you're always doing these things and there's no way you're not trying to get at anyone like that." you return to your sandwich after making your point.

"i never said i'm not trying to get anyone..." his looks upwards, like he's trying to recall if he's ever said that. when he doesn't find a recollection, he looks back at you. a smirk emerges, suspicious and teasing. "but hmm... so you do think i'm hot."

he winks.

a grimace pulls your lips wide. "oh my gosh, stop! i never said anything about you being hot. i'm just saying that you're— gah—" you're interrupted by his dramatic pouting, "do you act like this with other people?!" he chuckles at your animated movements, clearly enjoying tormenting you. he's only about to make it worse.

slinging his arm around your shoulder (though not touching you directly— rather, his arm rests on the bench you're on instead), he leans in, cheeky. almost sharing a breath with you. "you don't want me to be like this with other people?" a head tilt, and for a split second his eyes conveyed innocence. only for a split second, though.

you can't handle it. it's worthy to note that right now, you're blushing hard, your face is warm, and you're only getting more riled up, "i did not say that— gosh, you're actually impossible to talk to, you know that?" you lean back in resignation, not realising his arm was closer to you than you thought. it's electric, his skin against your back, and you lurch forward at the contact immediately. "ah! i'm, i'm sorry. didn't realise your arm was— y-yeah..."

tartaglia, who also seemed surprise at the sudden contact, withdraws his arm carefully. he places his hand on his lap and leans back, looking up at the sky. in your subduing flustered state, you hear him release a sigh. "so, you don't like me that much, huh..." he says, a tinge of melancholy in his voice.

oh..? what's this? an unassuming hint of guilt whispers in your heart and you can't help but listen.

"listen... i never said i don't like you. i just—" you pause, "i just..."

you just what? you almost hear him say, though you're sure it's just your thoughts.

he doesn't turn to look at you, but you feel the weight of his gaze seeping from the corner of his eye. he's listening. "everyone thinks you're hot. hell, you know you're hot. so why haven't you dated anyone yet, then? something doesn't make sense. i... i think..." your eyes travel the park as you search your thoughts, "you're lying to me about something."

you reanimate when you realise you might've said something odd. "not— not that your private life has anything to do with me! but... i would like our friendship to be built on honesty, y'know? ...don't ask me why." that last sentence is curt, like you don't want to elaborate further. and tartaglia doesn't expect you to. he doesn't reply at all.

you both let the silence simmer, finishing up your sandwiches. it's tense, with many words being unsaid, but somehow, it's not awkward. when he's finished with his sandwich, he claps the crumbs off his fingers. he's ready to speak.

"you wanna know why i've never dated despite," and he laughs a little, "despite being hot?" he sees a squint approaching your eyes, "this is in your words, so don't fight me about it." the squint retracts itself. he rests his elbow on his lap, and his chin on his hand, closing the gap between you and him. not too close— never too close, you realise, and it's never the case that he takes up your space unnecessarily. but now's not the time to think about that.

"it's 'cause i think you're hot. and i only care if you think i'm hot." and there it is: his shit-eating grin. but behind the playful tease of his perfect teeth, you hear something genuine. "in other words, i like you." your lips press together tightly as the realisation dawns on you.

"in other other words, i only want to date you. ever."

you're still processing his words.

"in other other other words, i—"

"alright, i get it! you don't have to.. geez, you don't have to keep saying it like that," if the blush you had before was raging and intense, this time it's tentative; uncertain, contemplative. you could almost say that it feels sentimental. "...since when? why now? i have so many questions," you don't have the strength except to whisper your thoughts.

to this, he laughs— and for the first time, you realise how melodic his voice is. well, it's always been melodic, but it's only now that you're letting yourself accept it. "dude, i've been flirting with you since we were teenagers— i don't know what to tell you. i can't believe how oblivious you are!" and his laugh continues, contagious in that you also embarrassingly laugh along.

"you can't blame me! i thought you're always just... like that!" you argue back. attempting to scrape up whatever dignity you have left. "you're hot enough to be like that, anyway..."

tartaglia's ear perks up. shit. you shouldn't have said that. "what did you say~?" he cups a hand behind his ear, taunting you to repeat yourself.

"you're not gonna hear that from me again!" you stand up, abrupt, and brush the crumbs off your thighs. tossing your empty juice cup into a nearby trashcan, you stomp away, "i'm going home."

"hey, wait!" he follows suit in a giggling rush.

you walk home with him in tow, and as he always does, he synchronises his walking pace to yours. you can't help but ask him, "when did you first..?"

"hmm... it definitely was not love at first sight," he starts off. to this you playfully kick his shin, and he avoids it with ease. "i couldn't stand you at first. you were too smart, too attractive, too good at bickering with me— still are, by the way. but i guess something changed when we became teenagers."

amidst your embarrassment at hearing him praise you, you slip in a snide. "hormones?"

"heh, probably," another kick in the shin, "but i grew attached to you. now, there's no one else i think i'd rather spend my whole life with. i don't think i can imagine a life without you arou—"

"woah, woah! slow down. starting to sound like a proposal there," you interrupt, and your face is extremely warm as you do so. "we're not even... dating..." there's a hesitation before you continue, "...yet..."

but it seems tartaglia doesn't hear the 'yet', with how dejected he looks when you say it. "yeah... you're right," his response is curt.

you finally arrive at the front of your house. it's not odd that he's walked you home without a question— he always does so since you were young. and now you wonder if that is odd. you thank him for hanging out and prepare to wave goodbye, but something stops you from leaving. maybe it's his slumping figure, or his avoidance to meet your gaze.

"take care, i'll... i'll see you around." he says, and his tone is octaves lower than it's ever been. it leaves a crushing feeling in your heart. the feeling gets worse when he turns to walk away without even sparing you a glance. you're stuck in your spot, assessing your options. his long legs have already taken seven steps away from you, leaving a shadow behind.

"tartaglia, wait!"

he freezes in his tracks. head perking up slightly at your voice. you start jogging towards him, and he turns to face you. he notices a determination in your stature. he becomes curious.

"i... i appreciate you having the courage to tell me you like me. i know i'm not the best at.. not being oblivious, so i'm really grateful that you told me. directly. in my face." his eyebrows raise in anticipation, "i'm also sorry for not noticing earlier. and i'm sorry for calling you disgusting just now." (he's already forgotten that part). "also, sorry for kicking you in the shins. i just— um, well. what i mean to say is,"

you gently rest your hands on his shoulders and lean in...

to kiss him.

[whalemarch]

au where emil becomes a scanner unit and partners up with 9s

[otaku553]

It’s been so long…..

[whalemarch]

bro.... bro is so beautiful..... bro...........

[259kmvn]

brick by brick,

badeni x reader. just indulgence, maybe multi-part.

it's not a secret that badeni likes you— that is, in relation to how little he likes anyone in general. no one in your village knows anything about him except that he's a scowling wandering scholar, and that you're the only person he's ever tolerated since his arrival. and if there's any indicator of that, it would be his not minding your presence while he conducts his research.

his back is towards you as he ponders and writes; piles of books and papers and ink establishing the extents of his boundaries. any step into that zone of processed tree bark and you'd get a lecture from him about personal space and the importance of focus in research. however, yours is a presence he tolerates more than most. the very fact that you're in the same room as him tells you so.

therefore, as to not disturb him, you too busy yourself with research. drawing your own conclusions; developing and revising models to fit your observations into. there's something to say about this anomaly here— or perhaps a slight change to your model might respond to it appropriately, but oh, it doesn't fit with this observation here— perhaps the earlier model does a better job— and then this might fit ther—

"that's it!"

you hear in your head. at first, you think it came from you- maybe your brain had figured out an answer before your consciousness did. but the growling voice booming with ecstasy doesn't really sound like something your brain could produce. so you turn around and look at your fellow scholar.

"haha! i've done it again!" the screech of a chair follows his abruptly standing up as he holds a piece of paper like it's a newborn child. well, his brain did birth the ideas inked onto it. "nice job!" you congratulate him. with the amount of self-confidence he has, you're sure your voice is a mere squeak amongst the cheerleaders in his head. still, it's only appropriate for scholars to support one another— and you have an inkling that he would do the same for you, anyway.

before you could return to your work, though, he looks at you with a wide grin. his smile is an unsettling sight, coming from someone you've only known to be serious. but you don't let that show on your face. instead, you smile back, hoping to reflect his joy and illumination. he pauses— and in quick succession, says, "excuse me," before leaving the room. you can't help but chuckle when you hear him vomiting outside for the nth time today. you're starting to catch on that he does so after every major discovery— it seems like the man only has enough space in his stomach for truth. you remind yourself to offer him food after you're done with work.

the door creaks open with his return. "do you want to talk about what you found?" you ask, somewhat knowing his answer. as expected, he says, "nope," and the p pops with a smirk. "i'm not sharing this with anyone else." it's something you don't understand and probably never will— being a believer in sharing knowledge in abundance. but you play along nonetheless. "sure, sir scholar, i'll just have to find out myself then."

earnestly, he chuckles. almost like he's leaving the door open for you to enter his realm on your own. the chuckle hangs in silence for a second— and then, he approaches you, the hem of his shirt brushing your arm as he leans against your desk. it's all of a sudden that the atmosphere weighs heavy; the chuckle he left hanging dissipating in the air. sure, there's still a slight smile on his lips, but it's taut; as if something else now weighs on it. "i..." he starts. his uncovered eye conveying thoughts you only sense as melancholic. "i am grateful. that you do not pry."

you're shocked. honest gratitude from someone like badeni— someone who so self-assuredly keeps to himself— is something you never expected to receive. you don't want to ruin this moment, so you respond, "everyone has a story," casual in your tone yet careful with your words, "but that story is yours to tell. i'm just here... as a witness."

he pauses. looks directly into your eyes— into your soul. his eyebrow twitches in his hesitation, "you remind me of someone i used to know." and he leaves the room. his few words and abrupt departure furthered your shock. but somehow, you feel like you've just uncovered something; a significant part of his story that he'd shared with you. you sigh and look up at the wooden ceiling, wishing there were answers in it. there were none.

but you're content either way. with all the walls he's had up from when he arrived at your village, you could say that that he is slowly lowering them— brick by brick, maybe he'll gradually let you in.

[paperultra]

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck's Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,499 words Warnings: None Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you're too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they're too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much ... so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #1: CASUAL LUNCH Estranged husband — 1 Estranged wife — 1 Everything left unsaid — as desired

There’s bacon grease on his shirt.

You can see it underneath his collar, round fingerprints staining the pale linen grey, and when he leans across the threshold into Fler’s home all you can think about is laundry day at the end of the week.

It would be rude to admit that out loud, though.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you say.

“When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

Abelwood teeters forward still. “Well, don’t take too long, hear? You ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

Laughter erupts from the beer in his gut, and you laugh along with him. Abelwood is a rowdy drunk, you’ve learned, which is better than a cruel drunk or a lecherous drunk. It is not the kind of drunk that you are used to bringing home, even if he is only brought to the front door, but –

You smile, regardless.

“Goodnight,” you bid, closing the door inch by inch, your last bit of energy disappearing with the click of the lock.

You hold your breath. It takes three minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the man to leave your front doorstep, and you wait thirty more seconds after that to peek through the window, verifying that he is far enough away before resting your forehead against the door with a groan.

“Oh, boy.”

“I’m too old for this, Fler,” you mutter into the wood. “He was awful.”

Flertom lets out a sigh and closes the distance to squeeze you in a hug, pressing her cheek against your back like she’s done ever since she grew tall enough to do so. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she says.

“I’m sorry too.”

As you pat her hands and turn around to smile wryly at her, Puckpatti pipes up from the middle of the living room.

“He was a pig,” she exclaims. “Calling you by your first name! And he wasn’t even that handsome!”

“Looks aren’t everything, Puck,” you reply sharply, and she pouts, squeezing the lump of clay in her hands until it squishes out between her fingers. “He was a pig for the way he acted.”

“Well … that too.”

“He also smelled like one,” Fler says.

You detach yourself from your daughter to loosen the belt at your waist, frowning down at your dress and nice leather shoes. The dress feels just about as worn out as you do, the fabric soft and droopy from the humidity, the sunshine-yellow color less vibrant than it had been earlier this evening. The man had spilled beer on the floor of the bar and your shoes still look slightly sticky. Peeling them off just reminds you of the way he had laughed.

“Fler,” you say, “get me a wet rag, would you?”

“Sure, Mama.” Flertom turns to Puckpatti. “Puck, get a wet rag.”

“My hands are all dirty!” your youngest protests, showing her grey palms. “Mei’s closer to the water bucket.” She points to Meijack, who you now notice lingering by the kitchen.

Meijack blinks slowly, then silently fetches a rag, wets it, and brings it to you.

“Are you gonna keep trying, Ma?” she asks while you scrub the heel of your left shoe. “All these guys seem to be wasting your time.”

The chuckle that leaves your mouth is short and dry. “After this one, I don’t think so.” You glance up at your daughters and smile, straightening. “Maybe I should just take you all out on a girls’ date next time, huh? Forget about men for a little while.”

Meijack shrugs. Puckpatti nods eagerly.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong,” Flertom frets. “I’ve seen most of them at work before, and they seemed nice enough even when they were drunk …”

You shrug hopelessly and cross into the living room to sit on the couch. “Maybe it’s me.” As you lean back into the cushions, Meijack and Flertom join you on either side. “I’ve only ever been with one man my whole life. Maybe I don’t even know what I want …”

There’s a moment of silence. You look up at the ceiling of Flertom’s home, rubbing your temples and willing your frustration with yourself to not spill over while your daughters are watching. How embarrassing. Here you are, their mother, who is supposed to show them an example of a happy relationship, only for them to comfort you after another failed date. It should be the other way around. Half-foots don’t live long enough for things like this; your own mother had told you when you first left him that you should’ve just sucked it up.

Finally, Flertom speaks up. “Mama,” she starts, hesitant, and you look over to see her playing with her fingers, “Do you really want to date someone?”

“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” you answer.

As you say so, a name resurfaces in your mind, unbidden, and the face that belongs to it. Your jaw tightens and you look down at your hands.

“Well … um … Papa wrote last week, and he said that he wanted to talk to you sometime. Just a little bit.”

Your tone hardens. “And what does that have to do with me dating, Fler?”

She flinches and her lips push out. “Come on, Mama! It’s been years, and after everything he went through, I really think he’s better now! Don’t you at least want to talk to him? You were so in love with each other before he started adventuring, and now that he’s retired from it …”

You hold your hand up, and her jaw clicks shut.

“I know what you’re getting at, Flertom,” you say quietly. “And right now is not the best time to bring up your father.”

Your daughter deflates, her cheeks rosy. “But –”

“I mean it.” Standing, you heave a deep breath and examine the cluttered workstation that Puckpatti had set up on the living room table. “Puckpatti, make sure to clean up after you’re done. I’m going to bed.”

While the girls mope, you head to your bedroom, doing your best to occupy your thoughts with work at the blacksmith’s tomorrow. You think about the chain mail you’re supposed to be making, the little metal rings to form and weave together, and hope they’re what you dream of, not self-absorbed dates or unwanted kisses.

You blame Flertom for the auburn hair and hearty laughs that plague your night instead.

—

A week later, Puckpatti accosts you as soon as you walk through the door.

“Mama, I found a man for you!”

“Oh?” you reply blandly, hand still clutching at your chest from having the living daylights scared out of it. “Who is it?”

“That’s a secret! But he’s really nice, I promise.”

Sighing, you remove your vest. “I don’t know, Puck. How did you meet him?”

“He bought one of my clay sticks.” You can’t stop yourself from frowning, despite your desire to support your daughter’s entrepreneurial spirit, and she giggles. “Oh, please, Mama, he didn’t believe my pitch. I think I just charmed him into buying it. He seems really clever!”

“Are you sure he wasn’t interested in you?”

She makes a disgusted face. “Eww! No, I told him about you and he seemed interested.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mama, you’re a catch. Of course he’d want to go on a date with you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, honey.” You glance at her before heading to the kitchen to put away the bread and cheese you’d bought. “Is he a half-foot?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought I’d met all the half-foots in Kahka Brud.”

“Maybe he just moved here.”

She looks up innocently when you raise an eyebrow at her. “And you’re sure I’ll like him,” you drawl, more suspicious by the minute. (Of what, you’re not quite sure.)

“Positive.”

It is incredibly difficult, you think with equal parts pride and concern, to say no to your youngest daughter. It’s probably why you worry about her the most. “This is the last date I’ll go on, Puckpatti. It will be on you.”

Puckpatti cheers. She hugs you as you chuckle at her enthusiasm, jumping up and down. “Yay! I’ll get a time and day that’ll work best. It’ll be great! You’ll love him!”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

—

The day arrives with a mellow sun and clear sky.

You wear your green dress with the floral details, and Puckpatti picks a necklace to go along with it, a thin, simple one that you haven’t worn in years. Flertom does your makeup and Meijack does your hair.

And as you sit in a corner of the tavern fifteen minutes early, hands nervously clasped in your lap, you wonder, just as you have with every date prior, what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Maybe he won’t show up. It would be improper, and juvenile, but then you could go home and say that you did try. Your desire for a new romance has all but dwindled completely, and as you trace the scratches on the wooden table, you wonder if it was even a desire at all.

Footsteps approach from behind. You can tell they belong to a half-foot by the weight and sound – light and small – as they come around to the other side of the table. Your shoulders tighten. Forcing a smile, you look up.

Your heart promptly surges upward into your throat before plummeting to your toes.

Chilchuck gawks down at you, eyes wide. His mouth parts to utter your full name, and you feel your lungs squeeze at how it sounds coming from him, soft from years of disuse.

“You came,” he says.

“Chil – Chilchuck.” His name is ashy and sweet behind your teeth. “What are you doing here?”

He furrows his brow. “What do you mean? The girls said that you were willing to meet up.”

“No, I’m meeting with one of Puck’s customers.”

“What? That doesn’t …” he trails off, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing at the same time.

You bury your head in your hand as Chilchuck grits his teeth.

Those scheming …

“I’m sorry they dragged you into this,” you mutter as you get up from your seat, your voice cold and flat. “I’ll be going now.”

His head snaps up. “Going? But –”

You hurry past him, dodging the hand that you know has reached out for your own.

Home is a ten-minute walk away. You can clear your head in that time, then scold your daughters for meddling, though it’s partially your fault for not questioning Puckpatti about your supposed date more thoroughly. You just didn’t think that they would try something like this.

(Or that Chilchuck would bother to go along with it.)

You pull the door open with some effort and rush out into a downpour of rain.

Your hair gets drenched before you backpedal with a yelp. Pressing against the wall underneath the awning, you look out helplessly at the soaked streets, their gutters already filling with water and debris flowing down the incline. Is … is that a drowning rat?

The storm’s earthiness floods your nose, late in its prediction by half an hour. Just your luck.

You fumble with the clasp of your necklace to remove it, not wanting to get it wet. While you struggle, the tavern door creaks open behind you.

“So you don’t even want to talk. Even after all these years, you’re going to walk away again.”

“Do you know why I walked away the first time?” The damn thing won’t unhook. You scowl, the presence at your back making your usually nimble fingers clumsy.

“No,” Chilchuck says. “I don’t. Not for certain.”

“That’s why.” With each failed attempt to separate the rings, your fingertips grow sorer, your throat thickening. He’s too close. You hate how he’s watching you fail such a simple task. “You stopped knowing, Chilchuck. That’s why.”

Underneath the sharp sound of rain, you can hear his breath hitch, then quiet.

You bite your lip and let your arms fall to your sides, giving up on trying to take your necklace off. Your chest aches. You don’t want to cry in front of him.

“So, there, we talked like you wanted.”

He stops you before you can step out into the rain.

“Wait. What … what about your necklace?” he asks hesitantly, like it’s not what he really wants to say, but merely a way to stall for time.

This time, you look over your shoulder at him. “I’ll dry it real well once I get home,” you reply.

Chilchuck’s mouth presses into a fine line. He grabs the cloak folded over the crook of his elbow, and it is then that you notice the bouquet of blue and pink flowers in his other hand. The ache in your chest flares into a raw, pulsing hurt.

“I’m guessing you’d rather not have me walk you.” He speaks evenly, holding his cloak out towards you. “It’s not completely waterproof, but keep this over your head, at least …” his voice quiets, “please.”

Wordlessly, you take the garment from him. The inner lining is warm against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “For not knowing.” His fist tightens around the flowers, and he stares at you resolutely. “I want to again, if you’ll let me.”

Ah.

You swallow. “I … I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t have to be today. I can wait.”

Breaking eye contact and looking down, Chilchuck roughs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. The cut is the same as it’s always been, auburn bangs thick and soft over his brow. And you recognize the shirt he’s wearing, a practical, clean wool shirt that you made some years ago. He’s taken good care of it.

It’s all the same. All the same, and yet, something that you can’t quite identify has changed.

You bring his cloak closer to your chest and bite your bottom lip.

“… Give me a week.”

His entire body loses its tension.

“Really?” He looks at you like he can’t believe it, and you avert your gaze, ears warming and moving back the slightest bit.

“Give me a week to decide,” you clarify. “Fler or Mei will let you know … this is really abrupt, after all …”

Chilchuck nods. “That’s fine!” he exclaims. “You didn’t know, so I understand. A week is – a week’s good.”

You nod back, hesitant.

The rain continues its heavy downpour.

“Right … well …” you turn slightly, casting him one last glance, “I’ll give your cloak back, regardless. Don’t get sick.”

“Okay. Stay … stay safe.”

With that, you wrap yourself in the thick fabric, rushing out of the safety of the awning. The run back home smells of woodsmoke and thyme, and when you open the door to three guilty daughters and three apologies, it lingers.

You hang his cloak near the fireplace. It’s evidence of a weak resolve that you stay until it’s dry, and even more damning that you know your answer long before it is.

[danannie521]

Good boy