i love you female characters who make selfish choices they know will be bad for everyone. i love you female characters who think they're making the right choice but make things worse. i love you female characters who are making the right choice but noone else understands it.
old enough to remember when smut was called ‘lemons’ but young enough that i had absolutely no business knowing that smut was called ‘lemons’ at the time
Another thing I love about Dan Da Dan is that the ‘shy nervous geek boy x cooler more experienced badgirl who doesn’t know he exists’ trope has literally been done to death but nobody’s doing it like them!
Okarun didn’t set out to get himself a girlfriend. He just wanted a friend. And even now at his core he is not motivated by the prospect that if he works hard enough to woo her, she could be his girlfriend. He isn’t trying to win her like a prize. He wants to protect that friend and be worthy of her friendship, because he fundamentally respects her as a person and respects their friendship. And that fucking rules
Me and the bad bitch I pulled with my autism Me and the DEAR FRIEND I pulled by being enthusiastic about my special interest, and genuinely respecting her and caring deeply for who she is as her own person outside of her friendship with me !!!!!
people will see a fandom thing and be like "why isn't this a fanfic" "why is there no fanfic about this" my brother in christ, because you're not writing it
word count: 1.700
genre: comfort/hurt, fluff/angst, pre-6.0
paring: wanderer x oc (or reader)
READ ON AO3
❝I'm not leaving. I promised you, she was about to say. But would you say the same to me, my heart?❞
Wanderer has been assigned his next mission. Take the Witch and the Knight of Favonius to Nod-Krai, he was told. The Doctor will be there, they confirmed. So he says he'll go. That's all she knows.
The sands of Hadramaveth were miles away. Yet they felt like they were there, entering her home, slashing her eyes; the sting burning and making her tremble as she found herself stuck on the face lying beside her.
In the corner of the bed, a pile of knits — poorly made attempts at dolls she’d tried to learn to make. With him. At the Akademiya, at the Grand Bazaar. Here, when they were alone.
The time they spent doing that seemed so short looking back now.
His first doll was put perfectly on the desk, standing guard over the Anemo Vision he had carefully placed there before lying down next to her.
He looked so soft. Eyes closed, fingers all together with hers. All warm coming from her, all cold coming from him. Every now and then, a twitch. She found herself wondering: could he be asleep? If so, what could be he dreaming about? If awake, what could be on his mind?
At the edge of the window, a green lantern swayed gently back and forth, sometimes lighting his peaceful face, sometimes her unpeaceful one. The place was a cramped little space. It was all a student from foreign origins aiming to be sage could hope to have. By the door, the little white bird they’d found months ago around the Grand Bazaar took flight. It nestled up with the doll, with the vision, as if it were her nest. They had named her Jiyū. In the corner of the room was a cage, always open; mere decoration. For the wings nature gave her existed to live up to that name even it was all fake, he had said once.
He always had something to say.
“Lost something on my face?”
Hah. So he was awake.
“Me? Nah,” she laughed, “I was just admiring how angelic you are, you know. When you’re not scowling around or something.”
“Stop babbling and go to sleep, it’s way past your bedtime.”
“I can’t,” she admitted, hoping the words weighed him less than they did her. “Have you already packed everything for tomorrow?”
The answer took a while to come.
“Yes. Lesser Lord Kusanali arranged everything.”
“Did you at least pack your travel bag by yourself, favorite student?”
“Don’t you have a less stupid question to make?”
“Nooop! Come on, I had to ask.”
“Hah. You’re having such a blast already. You’ll be even more insufferable once I’m gone.”
“No, no. Of course not, Kabu! How could I? It’ll be so boring without you here. With who else am I going to infuse Anemo into the sand to annoy Mr. Rajun on our next expeditions to the Hadramaveth Desert?”
“Certainly not Afrdja. You’d all get swept up by a tornado if that stupid ever decides to open that Anemo contraption he calls an invention.”
A laugh escaped her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could swore she saw him smile.
It stung a little. Again.
“I’m gonna miss you, you know. Nod-Krai feels so… far away. From here.”
“I have things to take care of there. Scores to settle.”
“I know. You already said that.” Though you never said which. Or how. Or when you'd come back. “Please, be careful.”
No answer came.
“Lesser Lord Kusanali would be very worried if something happened to her favorite Vahumana student” she tried to joke, “and so would I.”
“Yes, you, Lesser Lord Kusanali and half the Akademiya.” And there it was again, the ironic attitude. Stubborn wall, wound symptom, that he insisted on raising whenever someone touched on what he most tried to dissimulate.
She had no choice but to pull him by the ear. It didn’t take long: what was once a very tight cuddle turned into a war of feet, slaps and silly insults. At least until they got tired.
“I’m serious, you idiot!” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist again, holding him. “You promised. We still have to write that essay on the branches of the metallurgical craft of Tatarasuna together! About the sword and the Kabukimono tree!”
And I worry about you.
“I don’t remember agreeing on that.”
“I can grab my Katsuragikiri Nagamasa to enlight your memory, then.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Yeah, along with another one of my deadliest weapons.”
He scoffed. “Hmph. And what would that be?”
A kiss, Kabu. A kiss.
She could have said it, but didn’t. Instead, she simply cupped his cheeks with her fingers and pressed her lips to his.
It felt long as it was brief. Not enough to memorize the softness of what it felt like to have his lips on hers. Not enough to imprint all the affection she felt for him, even just a little, so he could carry it with him over to far, far away from there. So he wouldn’t feel alone again. So that when he looked at the stars, he’d remember she was here, yet waiting for him and his stupid sarcasm to come. Waiting for him to come back.
The gentle touch of his fingers brushed her cheek. Slid through her hair, caressed her mouth. Gentle, gentle. So sweet. Kabukimono.
I’m not going anywhere. I promised you, she was about to say.
But would you say the same to me, my heart?
When she opened her eyes again, she saw blue. Purple. Long lashes. And tiny white freckles, like stars in the sky.
He was looking at her. So intense, cloudy with affection, like someone seeing through the eyes of a heart. Hazy too, as he always was. Vulnerable — like he allowed himself to be sometimes, but always only with her.
“I…” he began, voice no more than a whisper.
“Yes, my love?”
"Stop calling me that."
"You know I could never."
He looked away, cleared his throat, his mouth opening and closing more times than one could count. Reluctance veiling what he didn’t have the courage to say.
At the end, all that came out of him was: “I’ll be leaving early, tomorrow. With the Favonius Knight and the Witch. You might still be asleep. When I go.”
She could have insisted, asked what he meant, when he’d return, who the Knight and the Witch were; but instead she just smiled, keeping her insecurities sealed away. That wasn’t what he needed right now.
Pressing her forehead to his, caressing his nape with care, with tenderness, affection, she planted a soft kiss on his forehead.
So he’d remember. So he wouldn’t forget. Always.
You have somewhere to return to.
“It’s okay. I’m not sleepy.” That was the answer she gave, pulling him closer to her. And he nestled, snuggling, memorizing the warmth as if it were the last time he’d ever feel it. She brushed her lips by his ear, longing bubbling wanting to become words. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. For you to come back.”
“Hah. How delusional of you to think that way.” The laugh came bitter, laced with scorn; the exact opposite of the way he held her — sweet, a little desperate, like someone holding on without knowing how to let go. His walls crumbling, collapsing, “You shouldn’t.”
The smile that she gave him didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah, but you should know one thing too.” And she placed another kiss on his forehead, “I’m the only one responsible for my choices. The rest is a consequence. And I’m going to do that, whether you believe it or not.”
With him buried between her shoulder and neck, she couldn’t tell how he reacted. But knowing him as she did, she could already guess: he didn’t want to believe her. Maybe because it was easier. Maybe because it hurt less. Skepticism was a safe harbor he rarely let himself sail away from.
She smiled, a little melancholic, a little already missing, her fingertips slipping under his shirt, the touch trailing upward, sending chills across every inch of skin he had.
“Won’t you look at me, my love?” she whispered.
“I’ve had my fill of promises. I’ve had to deal with enough liars already.”
“Must be hard then, looking in the mirror.”
Silence.
She sighed, her fingers guiding his chin, making him face her.
The sight hit her like lead: feeling leaking, overflowing. Half a world of words he wanted to say materializing in that anguished shade of violet and blue. Was that what he saw when he looked at her too?
A caress to the cheek, a melancholic stroke to the heart. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his face back to hers. Foreheads touching, even the smallest distance feeling like an infinite needed to be erased. Her warm breath meeting his none — action overtaking unspoken words that would forever remain dormant.
It was he who kissed her this time. Slowly, as if fighting himself. Hesitant, like someone afraid to hurt. Himself, her or both?
Until he wasn’t.
Walls breaking, falling. Movements turning feverish, intense, like someone clinging to the wild fear of a never again.
They stayed like that for a long time that night. Kisses and caresses that spoke of a longing not yet arrived. The soft glow of the lantern, swaying side to side, the only witness.
At some point in the night, Jiyū left the doll’s side, wings spreading, and flew — out the window, the wind its partner and only company. She didn’t know if Jiyū would find its way back home after. She only saw Jiyū look back for a long time before taking off and moving forward.
She couldn’t tell, already drifting between sleep and dream. The realm of Lesser Lord Kusanali pulling her in, too tempting to resist once reality started painting itself in that emptiness. Kabu. Kabu. Kabu. That was the name she called him by. Her arms around him, holding him, p̶r̶o̶t̶e̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ him from something she could never stop from coming.
She didn’t know if she heard it, or if she dreamed it — too far gone to tell what was real and what was not. She only knew she felt his hand in hers, fingers stiking together, touch cold but not cold as before. But if so, why did it feel like he was trembling?
“I’ll miss you too, Hṛdaya. More than you could ever measure.”
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