19 • she/her — bi femme — self indulgent x reader fics — sfw fluff/angst — masterlist
writing primarily for myself, for whatever characters i’m daydreaming about. posting holds me accountable.
foreword: i hate generative ai with a passion. burning passion. “it is an insult to life itself.” i will never waver on this, i am exploited despite it. let’s pick up our pens and reconnect with writing!! (｀_´)ゞ
currently working on: may 9 — several ellie williams fics :p
! femme reader x butch/masc stelle — sfw angst to fluff — i’m rusty forgive me — fumbling attempts at aftercare.
wc: 1.6k
your body feels like a sunken ship. heavy, aching in the hull.
your eyes are too tacky with sleep to open… but they’re opening anyway, searching for the source of rustling fabric and soft breaths of effort.
framed by the fuzz of your vision is stelle. fluffy-haired, staggering stelle, tugging on her boyshorts and rumpled tee.
“…stelle?” your voice is froggy.
she immediately pauses, turning to look back at you with an almost goofy carefulness. your mind flits through about a hundred other moments, vibrant like half-dreams, when her nerves have sparked around you — bashful pauses that make your chest feel tangled with does-she-or-does-she-nots.
“ah, hey… didn’t mean to wake you.”
she has your favorite voice. this morning, it’s veiled.
stelle’s hand swathes up the back of her neck, and in those three seconds your mind catches up to the distance between you. the realization, and the easy recollection of last night's events, put a sting in your throat.
rubbing your eyes, you push up from your mess of pillows, holding warm blankets to your skin. you aren’t quite lucid enough to control the tone of your voice, or the fix of your brows.
“uhm, were you… gonna leave me?”
you make the tiniest face hearing your own vulnerability, embarrassment twinging through your head like a arrow.
“whoa— what? no!” stelle’s head jerks towards you with the exclamation, hair following in a bounce. her hand itches into it, scruffing the strands with a puffy breath.
“i just, uhm… no, i wasn’t gonna leave you," she mumbles. "stuck on the same train, anyway.”
a sheepish glance away, then back to you.
you, who are now curling up into yourself amidst the sheets, bleeding cold into the air.
a pause. she sighs, staring more intently at you now. the contact makes your lashes flutter and eyes dart around over streaks of starlight.
“…i’ll make you something to eat,” she murmurs, ducking her head to catch your eye. “like toast.”
“toast,” you echo, voice light.
aeons. what is that, swirling around in your chest? it feels terrible. curiosity? incredulity? nerves, definitely. stelle must feel them like a physical thing, because her eyes go soft.
“i’m not leaving you,” she repeats. “i’m… i’m sorry. i suck at this.”
“no— it's fine, i'm just a little disoriented," you mumble. your palms are now pressed to your cheeks, eyes on stelle's spread knees and fidgeting fingers.
"i don't think it's fine."
"it... you don't need to feel sorry, is what i mean.”
stelle’s lips pull into a flustered shape, a thin breath leaving her grimace.
"but i do,” she pushes, “you're clearly upset, 'cause i'm being a dumbass..."
the embarrassment from before comes back, just as sharp. there isn't much you can do to take back how small you sounded.
"uhm. well? i'm just a little sensitive when i wake up, maybe. had a weird dream.”
stelle snorts, a funny sound coming from such a dry expression. you know that combination. your brow knits defensively.
"you shouldn't make excuses for your feelings, []. makes you sound like a little kid."
"oh, shut up— i'm just— nervous! i'm nervous," you sputter, hands smacking over your heating cheeks. "last night was just really nice! nothing's really... felt like that before. and i wake up and you're..."
stelle scrubs her face into her hands, groaning at the image you're painting.
“i know! i know, i’m sorry…”
a long stretch of silence. you're tugging at your hair now to get literally any of the nerves out of your limbs. everything aches, you can only half-ignore it.
stelle sighs.
"i got scared," she mumbles, sincerity bleeding into her voice. "last night was really nice for me too, []. i think i just... put too much into it."
your lashes flutter.
"…too much?"
"too much, uhm. feeling. it happened so fast, i didn't know if it was... casual to you. impulsive, or something.”
you turn your head slowly, staring at stelle with mounting understanding.
“…you’re afraid i’m regretting last night?”
you’ve never seen her this red. there’s only so many times she can scruff at the nape of her neck before her hair gets too tangled.
“i mean— do you regret it?”
“stelle, seriously,” you let out a breath, something between exasperation and relief coloring your voice. “why would i? i chose to be with you. and it felt… easy. and right. like… slipping into a warm bath. i was worried this meant nothing at all! you know? this…”
you gesture between the both of you, calling attention to the way stelle’s now leaning in and the way you’ve finally let the blanket fabric relax around you.
you hum. “this pull between us?”
are you allowed to acknowledge things like this with others? is it weird, too intense?
the way stelle’s staring at you right now is certainly intense. your lips pull into a nervous line, brows furrowing as you look down at your hands.
“i mean— if you don’t feel it, that’s fine,” you grumble.
“[], i…” stelle’s voice comes out in a rasp. “—wait, no! no, i feel it, you’re right. it’s hard not to feel.”
she clears her throat, offering a fleck of a charm with the tilt of her head: “why else would i have put so much emotion into this?”
you give stelle a tentative look, nose scrunching. calling her ‘cringe’ with your eyes. she huffs in response. some of your nerves flutter away when that boyish grin curves her lips, a spark of disarming playfulness.
“emotion into the motion,” she mumbles with a little gesture of her fingers, prompting you to roll your eyes, grab a pillow, and toss it with urgent embarrassment into her chest.
“aw— hey!”
“you’re so stupid— great, we agree on that! so we’re good, right?” you ask quickly, looking away and tugging at your hair to frame it about your face.
you’re playing up your own shyness. stelle’s shoving the pillow back over to you with a snicker. the familiar banter’s putting the most butterfly-inducing smile on her face.
“yeah. ‘course.”
there’s a more comfortable proximity between you two now. warmth in your gazes. magnetism. something like that.
“so. i can say last night was loving, right? or at least affectionate,” you whisper.
“well, i mean, you were totally kissing me all over,” you press your fingers to your lips in a sheepish, lidded smirk. “gave me suspicion.”
and there it is, that goofy nervous look on stelle’s face again. you feel like a schoolgirl, proverbially kicking your feet behind yourself as you twirl a flower between your fingers. is it safe to pluck that last petal? 'she likes me.'
"do you?" you whisper. "like me."
the amusement in your voice makes the air feel at ease, and you watch as it saturates stelle.
she presses a hand over her face, dragging it down to smother the coy wobble of her lips. the tips of her ears are red, and her breaths are so short that you have to assume her heart's racing too.
"i think it’s a little obvious that i do, []. you’re just so…” she trails off, punctuating with a sigh. “i… i like you more than i really know how to say.”
your heart gives a little, like palmfuls of sand relaxing into water. relief permeates the atmosphere so heavily that the world — or space? — around you finally opens up. the stars are twinkling outside the express like they always do. stelle isn’t leaving you. you both want each other.
“awesome,” you whisper. “then… can you get away from the edge of the bed and come hold me?”
“hah! mm, yeah.”
she’s already clambering over, toeing off her shoved-on socks and gingerly curling herself around you.
it feels a little like a new home. warm, vast. what’s the way to where? where do you touch? your arms slowly loop around stelle’s ribs, to which she untangles and guides them around her neck instead. your lashes flutter beneath her jaw, and you hold on tight.
“i hope i still smell good,” you whisper against her neck, voice light.
“you smell like… whipped cream.” she mumbles into your shoulder.
your nose scrunches in bemused affection.
“i think that’s just my body wash…”
“mm.”
you smile, content like a cat in a sunbeam. stelle’s hands start swathing up your back, down your sides. her fingers press into the give of your flesh, tracing the impression your bra makes beneath your shoulder blades. is it possible to curl up into someone forever?
“you're so, so soft...” she murmurs, pressing a few light kisses down the side of your face. "are you sore at all?"
“oh. actually, yeah. a little bit.”
"want..." she pulls back, hands up and fingers fluttering fancily, "a massage?"
"uh— pfft— no," you laugh softly, eyes sparkling with a baffled mirth. "not a soreness you can massage out. but thank you. goof."
stelle just stares and smiles for a minute, fingers brushing the hair out of your face and smoothing down your flyaways.
"that’s cool. ‘cause all i really wanna do is hold you."
she pulls you close again, cradling you to her chest like she's trying to press all of your weight into her.
"i promise i won't try and run off again," she whispers. "i'll just talk to you."
your eyes slip shut. maybe it's not so bad, acknowledging the pull. you could melt here, stay heavy in the cove of stelle's arms. damn all the live-wire feelings, now you really want to be alive.
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.
! cassian x g/n reader (you take the role of bix) — angst/comfort — on mina-rau right before s2’s events — you have a nightmare the night before he leaves.
wc: 645
nights at home are meant to be calm. everyone’s asleep, and you’re laid in dim, dusty blue, listening to the wind rustling through the fields outside. it’s like an ocean if you concentrate hard enough — what you assume one would sound like. rolling and endless.
wil forgot to turn off the lamp outside, but you’re half sure cassian’s returning from rau soon anyway. he’ll park his speeder awkwardly far, set his bags by the doorway, snuff the lamp…
it’s embarrassing, but the thought of his presence makes the tension in your chest loosen enough for sleep to feel like a reasonable option again. you’ll be fine. you’re safe.
so the blue wraps around your mind, and you feel yourself sink.
a lot of the time you dream of ferrix. you don’t want to anymore.
…
you’re not sure when exactly cassian does return, but it happens in time for him to find you awake.
a sharp gasp and a cry, and you’re dizzy when you sit up. it’s happening again, and you’re not coherent enough to do anything but grasp desperately at the blankets covering you. uncomfortable, twisting fear is broiling in your chest, and your eyes are blurry with tears. everything feels dark.
“hey, hey—! it’s alright, focus on me,” that low, airy voice. urgent.
“…cass?”
he hushes you softly, his demeanor focused and tense. he’s kneeling on your bed beside you, lightly stroking your shoulder. you think you can feel your own racing heartbeat through the touch.
your eyes find his after some effort, and he sighs. he wasn’t normally tender with his comforting, always seeming ever so slightly on edge, like a dog on watch for something. for a cue.
“it’s alright… you’re safe, you’re home,” he murmurs, lightly squeezing your shoulder.
it’s when you struggle to steady your breath that he realizes he really can’t keep up the brusque act. he looks around, confirming that brasso and talia are still cuddled up asleep, before shuffling just a little bit closer to you.
“look at me. deep breaths. can you do that for me?”
his hand lifts to hold your cheek, keeping you in place, before running through your hair. you nod, eyes locked on his as your heart steadies.
nine beats, ten beats…
“there you go,” his lips quirk in an almost proud-looking smile, and you’re not sure he even realizes he’s making that face.
damnit. you’re too relieved to have reservations; your arms reach out for him and your body follows suit.
he responds after a split second of shock, snaking his arms around you in a firm, resolute hold. they find solid place cradling the middle of your back and the expanse of your shoulders, keeping you tight to him.
you’d be laughing about his gruffness if you weren’t so desperate for the touch. awkward or not, he knew how to hold you.
“you sure you’ll be fine without me?”
you huff, sensing that humorless smile in his tone.
“i’m the last person you need to worry about,” you murmur in reply, running a hand up and down his back.
“maybe. doesn’t exempt you, though.”
you roll your eyes and prop your chin on his shoulder, and he adjusts every part of himself to accommodate you. you’re still a little shaky.
“i’ll be back soon,” he adds quietly. don’t worry, he never says aloud. i’ll always come back to you.
“i’m not worried about that…”
you’re proud of him, in all honesty, beyond how much you stress over every possible instance he could die out there. scrappy kid sneaking into your yard at night, turned tool of a rebellion. what’s another thing to make your heart race?
you’ll take the peace you can find, here at home.
“deep breaths, just like that,” he whispers again, and you feel that regardless of your fears, everything right now is okay.
Denial is Futile: Wanderer x f!reader - Masterlist
Read on AO3 | Taglist
Summary:
What would you do if you were stuck with Wanderer indefinitely?
The cute and sweet guy from the bazaar was brought to your place while unconscious. But when he woke up, you were appalled by the amount of snark he had. Was he even the same person? And now you were stuck with him because he could literally die if he stopped holding your hand. You weren't sure if you could tolerate him any longer. Little did you know he was exactly the type of person you needed in your life.
Other info: Fluff, humor, sfw, enemies to lovers, some hurt/comfort and angst later, character growth, occurs after the version 3.3 Archon quest and Tighnari's story quest, female reader
! g/n pov — fluffy tone but def hurt/comfort — modern au — insp. by the kdrama "mr. plankton" — petty exes with big hearts.
wc: 1.4k
"uurrghh, my shoes...!”
soft splashing, and a blur of dull colors. your new dress shoes glisten with the polish of rain.
archons. dreaded, overlooked rain… you were in too much of a rush to pay the churning clouds much mind when you dashed out of your door this morning, now you’re murmuring apologies to your own outfit for the oversight.
at least it’s calm under this bus stop.
“and no one’s here,” you add to yourself, backing up to sit on the steel bench. the cold seeps through your clothes, and you squirm unhelpfully.
you're the only one to scramble, apparently. there are plenty of prepared passersby with umbrellas overhead walking unbothered, cars splashing past them. right… you may as well be the akademiya’s least collected student. palm to your cheek, elbow to your knee, you watch, imagining ants carrying leaves, or interweaving schools of fish…
tink. metal taps against glass above you, the echo startling you into snapping your head up.
held over you against the back of the bus stop is a clear umbrella, plastic paneling dotted with rolling raindrops. and through it, the intent gaze of a ghost.
...you jinxed yourself.
a whirlwind of memories you'd really rather keep shoved down flood your mind as your eyes trail over the ghost’s features. it aches in the split second that you remember warmth, until your eyes meet. a fiery flutter in your heart — irritation.
"...you!"
scaramouche raises a brow, his focus kept perfectly leveled on your eyes.
"me," he repeats in a calm tone.
you kind of want to smack him. pressing your tongue firmly to the roof of your mouth so you don't clench your teeth, you take a deep breath, letting the sensation of air filling your lungs cool your thoughts.
"i don't need this, thanks," your voice is calmer. you stare at the address written on the umbrella handle for a moment before looking forward again, sitting up straight.
"i thought i saw you in a hurry.” the umbrella withdraws.
"not... wasn't," you murmur awkwardly, hands now fidgeting in your lap as you hear plastic being shaken dry. is he waiting here too? where did he even spot you from?
whatever, you just don’t want him having an avenue to visit you. ‘oh, hey, i need my umbrella back, by the way!’ not a chance.
silence splits the bus stop in two, the pattering of rain an audible curtain.
this is fine. a-okay. you are very calm and collected, you’ve grown and healed dividends in the years since scaramouche last held your hand in his own. a deep breath, and your thoughts will settle.
but, ugh… your chest feels tight, fluttering like sore birdwings. always a traitor.
"how's school going?" you ask in a sigh, feeling confusion at your own words welling up as you cast him a sidelong glance. curse that chatty impulse to... what? catch up with your past love?
"ah..." he gives you an equally tentative look, before a curious smile graces his lips. he shrugs, hands in his pockets.
"great, actually. i’m part of this grand research project that'll land me a trip to fontaine."
your immediate envy is soothed by an awed skepticism.
“…fontaine?”
“yup.”
“research project.”
“yeah. vahumana darshan, you forget?”
“no, but…” you blink, and rest your cheek on your palm, curiosity getting the better of you. “what kind of research?”
he smiles. you’d kick him for his audacity to charm you right now, if you were less mature.
“fontaine’s meka technology and sumeru’s ruin machinations. we’re trying to figure out what kinds of machines we can develop for medical purposes. i’m head of the project.”
you nod attentively, before shaking your head a little, leaning back. "really? you can lead projects now?"
his prideful smirk makes your voice drop back to incredulity.
“...you like leading projects now?”
"hff. yeah, when it's clear to me that i'm the only one for the job." his hair messes over his eyes when he tilts his head toward you. "exchanging medical and technological theories isn't a neat task. somebody's gotta keep the philosophers focused."
you roll your eyes, nodding with a wry smile. you’re a little impressed, but you’re not about to let him know that. his passion, it's new.
"ahh, so you've found an academic reason to boss people around…”
"you're snarky, you know that?"
"no better than you."
…
huh?
…what's happening? what are you letting happen?
you're smiling, and so is he.
it's been three years, how come this rhythm hasn't died away? as if being snapped out of a daydream, you absentmindedly bite your nail, eyes narrowing at the broiling puddles blanketing the pavement ahead of you.
however hard you try right now, you can't find it in you to be bitter. not that it'd be mature to be bitter. you just wish it were more upsetting to realize that what you two built together hasn't faded far.
should you let it?
he promised to wait, and then left. one conversation isn’t enough to unravel the effort you’ve made for yourself. are you happy to see him, or not?
"are you doing okay?"
you blink, a shiver scattering over your skin. a cold breeze sifts through the rainfall.
"yeah?" your tone's defensive, and you curl your arms around your waist with a furrow in your brow. "what, was i making a face?"
"no," his voice is softer, the genuine tone making you pause.
"i mean in general. in life. are you doing okay?"
you are. aside from how the estranged tenderness he's offering is making you want to sob all of a sudden. another deep breath, your eyes on your hands as they fidget in your lap. you'll allow yourself the vulnerability of a genuine tone, too.
"yeah. things are okay right now."
a suspicious amount of silence, and you feel a flicker of irritation in the back of your mind again. you huff to yourself. he has the guts to care still, after so long... and you have the guts to want peace.
"i'm sorry, []."
ah. he sounds so sure of himself.
never have you felt such a paradoxical mix of emotions. relief, anger, sorrow, content. you want to cry, for one. yet most of all you're overjoyed at finally, finally getting this. gently, kindly.
"i'm sorry too," you admit, your deep breath shaky as you look back up.
he turns away, some hint of nervousness in the line of his lip.
long, semi-comfortable silence. you're both calming the aches of your hearts, listening to pattering and rumbling and splashes. at least if you sniffle, he won't hear it.
"i don't think the rain's stopping anytime soon," scaramouche muses, willfully ignoring the umbrella leaning on the bench behind him.
"hm. it's fine if it doesn't," you murmur. “but… i’d really like to get to class.”
there's another spark of understanding between you. your eyes are drawn to one another in the beats you calculate by heart, the tempos that match every so often before misaligning. like the blinkers of the cars on the road right in front of you, whose lights wobble in the puddles.
"you know," you sigh, something gentler in your gaze as you look back down at your now-dry dress shoes. "since i believe you owe me..."
he raises a brow, already preparing some remark to kill the tension between you two, to diminish the earnestness of whatever it is you're about to do. he knows your cues, and you know his bad habits. it'd be better if you continued to hate him, you've shared that thought. it'd be better if you felt no obligation to offer the kindness of picking up on another one of his unspoken promises.
but he waits a heartbeat longer, and watches as you reach for his umbrella.
"i'll be returning this later.”
your hair billows and curtains your features in the breeze as you stand, and his attention follows without a conscious thought. shwoop, the umbrella opens.
"when i'm ready," you add, and your eyes meet his. the dull of the rain brightens from the small smile you give him.
that's all he's wanted to see.
yup, he’s got no choice now if he ever wants to see this sort-of nice umbrella again.
Hey you! I love your writing, and I love your message about writing and why you started posting it. It reminded me why I liked to write, and helped me pull away from the trap of generative AI. Thanks for spreading your positivity and helping me with my writing journey! You're awesome 💖
-sleeping god
thank you so much!! i’m so excited that i’m not alone with this :0 i’ve been struggling lately so you’ve really motivated me to keep going! we can do this ♡
fem pov — fluff / min hurt max comfort — pre-hunter mc / DAA caleb — you try to keep it in whenever he comes home, and that aching feeling inside only grows for it. it's about time you talked.
wc: 1.4k
growing up, people would always say that caleb's connection to you was supernatural.
what else to blame but magic for the sixth sense he's got, attuned to your every need? for why he recognizes your pains and habits long before you do? for why, after so many years, he still sees you as his playmate, pinkies locked as he vows to take care of you? there's no one else he'd rather bicker and laugh with, nothing at either far end of deepspace that would make him as happy as the rhythm you fall into together.
though if there's one shortcoming caused by your 'supernatural connection', it'd be your struggle to communicate...
is that why he feels so far from you now?
"you've got to be the only person i know who reads textbooks all the way through…"
caleb's found you reading under that big tree in the yard, the one that reaches all the way up to poke its virid branches against the attic windows. he smiles at the startled look in your eyes, though you don't give him much time to assess the myriad of emotions beneath it.
your head lowers again, hair swaying around your features as you try to steady your breath. you bring that ‘observed physical behaviors of metaflux’ issue closer to your face, tilting your thumb a little to splay some pages up. they flutter in the breeze and brush against your chin.
huffing, he kneels down and tilts his head, wrist rested on his knee and knuckles lightly nudging your elbow. your gaze flits to his worn sneakers. how come it's the little things that finally make your throat feel tight?
"too shy to talk to me? or... annoyed that i'm interrupting your studying?"
something instinctive in him softens when you don't reply. suddenly he's back in high school, sorting through his collection of tactics for the ones that'll open you up to him. when you're guarded... he should show you that he doesn't plan on going anywhere.
his gaze trails down from your arms to your legs, pressed together with the way you're sitting on your feet. with a playful tentativeness, he adjusts himself, turning and laying back to somewhat awkwardly slot himself at just the right position to lay his head down on your thighs.
his hair tickles your skin, giving you light chills. the nape of his neck is warm. he’s heavier than he used to be.
"hm, right here's a nice view of your book," you can hear the boyish smile in his voice. "more metaflux stuff... wanna tell me about it?"
he watches your fingers tighten on the hardcover before you lower the book onto his chest. his pendant clinks lightly beneath the weight.
"there she is…" he squints when the unblocked sunlight prickles his eyes.
“caleb…”
a sniffle, and a twitch of your hand on his shoulder.
his eyes are wide open immediately, fixing on the knit in your brow and the tears that are streaming down your face. they pepper your lashes, sparkling when they catch the sun and dot the skin of his cheek in gentle patter.
“y/n…! hey, hey,” he drops your textbook onto the grass and immediately sits up, pulling you to his chest with reflexive force.
“shh, shh, it's okay, i got you," he soothes, his voice gentling into a murmur.
he keeps his touch light and refrained, until you bury your face in his shoulder like you've got something to hide from. his fingers quickly thread into your hair and settle against your scalp, squeezing you close like how he used to when the thunder kept you up at night.
"shh, tell me what's wrong, it's alright..." he whispers against your temple.
“i-i’m sorry,” your breath shudders and you sigh harshly to try to steady it. “i can’t— i couldn’t hold it in when you started talking to me…”
he hums, both relief and concern running through him at once. you've always tried to keep such a steady hold on yourself. he pulls back slightly to give you a warm, exasperated smile.
“no need to say sorry, you know that. do you want to head inside to talk?”
“h-here’s fine,” you shake your head, and he readily holds your hand as you breathe.
caleb's eyes follow the lines of your face and the shapes traced by your gestures as you explain how you’ve been feeling. vaguely, at first, as if you believe your stress is trivial. but the hazy sound of the breeze rustling the leaves above you and the soothing feeling of caleb’s hand squeezing yours helps calm your nerves. you almost feel embarrassed that you ever had your guard up around him.
“i’ve always listened to your rambles growing up, you know,” he reminds you when you pause for a while with a scrunch in your nose.
"...i know, but this is different," you give him a half-confused look, like you're actively untangling your thoughts. "you're busy at the DAA, and— we hardly have time together anymore. i don't want to make it negative by complaining too much."
he tilts his head, brows furrowing in concern.
"that's... not how i want you to view it at all." he looks down at your hands, lightly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "every little feeling you have matters to me. i want to hear it, especially if it's negative. what's that saying— a shared sorrow is half a sorrow?"
you huff, though your eyes are soft as you receive his words. a confident flutter in his heart, and he continues.
"you can always, always come to me, always confide in me, just like when we were kids. i promise."
your hair sways as you shake your head.
“you’re never with me anymore, though, caleb. i keep feeling like… we’re growing distant.”
you look up to the tree branches to avoid the intensity in his expression.
"we keep bringing up the past as if it makes up for the time we keep losing in the present," you breathe out.
your own words make you freeze for a reason you've yet to acknowledge. you half expect him to get upset at them. but, after a beat, caleb lets out a soft laugh. you look back down to him in slight surprise.
“i'm... so proud of you, you know that?" his eyes sparkle with a fond mirth. "you've become real mature without me. i can see you in a hunter's uniform already."
your throat tightens again. trying to find your breath, you smile, though the line of your lip wobbles as you do. he leans down, bringing his face closer to yours with a gentleness in his expression.
"we're off chasing our own dreams now. so sure, maybe we are growing distant." his voice softens. "but i need you to know that there's never been a moment where i've thought about letting our bond fade. i will always try for you, y/n. i need you to try for me, too, when we're far away from each other."
one hand squeezes yours, and the other trails from your cheek to your scalp, carding through your hair.
"even when i’m up in the sky, we’re connected. remember?” he points up with a boyish smile. "we don't have to drift apart."
you remember his promise years ago. "i'll be a kite on a string. don't let me go!"
you let let out a soft breath, eyes following his finger towards the clouds before you shake your head and give your textbook a small smile.
“mm. it’s been a while since i’ve heard you say something like that.”
he blinks, remembering the stretch of time that he'd wished away in a blur at the DAA. it has, hasn't it? your sudden warmth against his chest makes his wistful thoughts stop as soon as they start.
“thank you,” you whisper, voice muffled by his jacket. a sudden feeling wracks through him, that everything's going to turn out alright.
"always, pipsqueak," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his cheek to your hair.
you must've bewitched him, all those years ago when you first held hands as kids. maybe your power is unbeknownst to you. maybe he should let you know, show you how deep his devotion runs so that you understand.
magic... or, maybe, an emotion with a name.
he pushes that thought down. for now, it's enough just to be with you in the moment. he's found his rhythm, and he'll do all it takes to keep you humming to it.
gender neutral pov — ふわふわ fluff — est. relationship — you fell asleep crying.
wc: 583
soft puffs of air waft over your skin, and an arm around your waist shifts ever so slightly. blurry sparkles line your eyes as they flutter open, deep blues and greys gentling into your vision. it’s warm.
“hm…?"
and scaramouche is beside you. or… around you. weren’t you just crying? you definitely were, with that soft ache lingering in the back of your head. heavy eyes trail up to meet scara’s face. ah, that's right— you were stressed out of your mind. and he had wrapped you up in his arms the moment he saw your tears.
his calmness immediately gives your aching mind some ease, the sight of his parted lips and content features letting you rest your head back on the pillows and watch for a moment. the present moment.
time does slow sometimes, for you two.
“pretty boy,” you murmur, so softly that the vowels disappear in your breath.
you reach up, palm gently resting on the side of his face as you appraise his sleeping features. but — always one to surprise you — his head tilts and his lips press to the heel of your palm. your blink makes him grin, and you return it with incredulity.
“do you pretend to sleep often?”
you huff, and he’s already pulling you closer, leaning down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then your shoulder, squeezing you affectionately.
“mm… only when it’s advantageous.”
he’s betting on that one habit of yours. his favorite.
“i can’t ever relax around you, hm?” your voice lightly hums against his hair as you ghost a kiss to the indigo. he feels a boyish flutter in his chest.
“hff, sure. don’t say that after crying in my arms.”
he lightly pinches your waist before swathing it around to your back, rubbing in soft circles as he locates another place to kiss while you rub your eyes clear of stars. your… ear. behind it.
as if in response, after a deep breath, you press your lips to the junction of his jaw. he smiles when your heavy sigh fans down his neck.
he kisses the side of your head, and you kiss his cheek.
his lips press to your brow, your lips press to his nose.
he’s smiling like an idiot, and the delight in his eyes makes your mock irritated expression die away. all you really care to do is smile back.
suppressing the giggle that bubbles up in your chest, you turn your head away and lean it against his jaw so he doesn’t see your expression.
“‘m not gonna stop,” he teases, gently poking your side. “it’s like you can’t help yourself.”
your heart feels a slight tug of embarrassment when he verbalizes it, lips parted as if you’ve been caught… what you really can’t help is the overwhelming affection you feel for him when he shows you his own. like a flower in sunlight; your blooms in the form of little reciprocal kisses. if he knew how raw that feeling of yours was, you'd never hear the end of it...
well, the best defense is a good offense!
“i suppose there’s only one compromise then, hm?” you look up at him with a coy smile of your own, one that makes his heart stutter in adoration.
"chu." your lips press to his.
and oh, he delights in the way your eyes glitter when they meet his again.
“that's how i can match our kisses,” you whisper. "without the delay."
