caleb, the insufferable man you can never truly be mad at
heavily inspired by this post from @aethercoreheart
In terms of teasing and banter, Caleb knew exactly what buttons to push to get you huffing and puffing in frustration. Being close to each other for the better part of your entire lives meant that you knew each other more than anyone, and it showed.
Caleb had seen his friends over the years lose relationships due to miscommunication and misdirected resentment— he’d rather lick a toilet seat than let your relationship end up that way. He finds himself backpedaling with his teases, choosing to wave the white flag of surrender if you were even the slightest bit close to being truly annoyed at him.
Sure, Caleb was meticulous in observing how you felt through the day, but sometimes he failed to fight the urge to tease you just a bit.
You went out to eat at a noodle bar and ordered spiciest broth on the menu, choosing to ignore the max level scorch-meter beside the name of the dish.
As you smiled politely at the waiter when placing your order, Caleb nervously sipped his complimentary glass of lemon water. He tried to suggest getting a milder menu item but you were adamant on setting your tastebuds on fire. Pssh, for a hunter, this was nothing.
“Pips, I’m not sure if that level would be safe for human consumption…” He spoke smoothly, with that tone he used when trying to persuade you.
“It’ll be fine, I can handle a little kick.” you shrugged, twirling the straw in your glass of juice.
Caleb scratched his cheek, “The skulls they used to describe the spice level say otherwise.”
You halt the twirling of your straw and raise a playful eyebrow. “And what are you implying?” You raise an eyebrow
“Nothing.” Caleb blurts and takes a loooong sip of his complimentary lemon water.
This was a decision you’d come to regret within the next hour.
Despite the cool air of the establishment, sweat gathered at your forehead from the sheer heat in the dish. You felt as though you had to prove something, especially after you insisted it was okay despite Caleb’s warnings.
Caleb watched you with a knowing look. Your face betrayed your nonchalant facade as your mouth seared from the capsaicin attacking your tastebuds.
“You want some water?” he offered, pulling the least ‘I told you so’ expression he could muster.
“M’fine,” you mumbled, garnishing the weak assertion with a comically loud sniffle.
Caleb fondly shook his head and pushed a glass of iced water over to your side of the table. You narrowed your eyes at it and he made a show of looking away from you. He smiled under his hand as you he saw you watch his gaze shift elsewhere. You ended up downing half of the glass in one gulp, stifling a relieved sigh, which made Caleb almost snort. You hissed from the brainfreeze, totally forgetting the fact that Caleb could see you in his peripheral.
At the end of your meal, you were sure your stomach was 80% filled with water from trying to quench the inferno on your palate. You stayed silent for the entire ride back to Caleb’s home; lest your speech ignite the fire in your mouth once again.
In the driver’s seat, Caleb held onto the tattered strings of his composure for dear life so he wouldn’t burst out into a fit of giggles. Your expression as you practically fought for your life against the bowl of noodles never left his mind.
When you got home, you took off your outer layers and flopped onto the couch, relieved as the inferno of spice had calmed down to a mild tingle.
“Feeling better?” Caleb asked as he hung up his coat.
“Yeah,” you answered simply.
He put on his house slippers and shuffled over to the living room.
“Next time, maybe—“
“I know…”
“Maybe ask about the spice levels before ordering new places.” He spoke so gently that you wouldn’t have caught his teasing undertone if you weren’t listening well enough.
You sighed.
“You’re just gonna end it with an ‘I told you so’, right?”
Caleb hummed, “Well, I did tell you so.”
“If you’re just gonna make fun of me, I’m going to bed.” you deadpanned.
“Me? Make fun of you? Whaaaaat?” Caleb gasped in the most unconvincing defence you’ve ever been faced with.
“Goodnight.”
“Wait—“
“Leave me alone, I’m angry.”
“At what? Me, pipsqueak?” he stepped closer until his face was in front of yours, purple eyes boring into your own with his signature kicked puppy look that made you sweat.
“No,” you muttered and looked away, “Go away.”
Caleb smiled, you both knew there wasn’t much weight behind your words in this scenario.
As furrow your brows, you feel him saunter behind your seat on the couch and his impossibly warm hands find your shoulders. He worked the tense muscles of your upper back. Before you could even finish your sentence, you were sighing in relief, the grievances long forgotten on your tongue.
You can’t even remember the bone you had to pick with him as his massage ended in you completely dazed and a fresh glass of iced tea nestled in your hands. When did he have time to make it? You’ll never know.
Caleb knows you way too well, and he doesn’t even give you the chance to get freaked out by it.
All he does is give his stupidly jolly grin with a face that you know that he knows you can’t even begin to get mad at.
i love this irritating man so much, goodness me
@starrnado 2025 // thank you so much for reading!! :)
Fluffvember day 2: Blanket fort | “Come back to bed”
really quick continuation of the day 1 entry I did lol wind eventually uses his sad puppy eyes on wars so he stays lmao you cannot win against your baby brother pulling the sad eyes, sorry wars
This isn't the usual little pencil sketch, but I sort of forgot about this at the last minute- so enjoy a little digital doodle with a photo I took in the background.
I hope you like the little Minish!Four and Fairy!Hyrule !!
albedo, alhaitham, childe, scaramouche, venti x gn!reader
your job isn’t the best one out there, but it’s easy and keeps you from drowning in tuition fees and rent. working at a 7-eleven on a midnight shift was supposed to be peaceful, so why is it that you constantly find yourself being bothered by weird customers? (modern au)
fluff, comedy, crack, cashier employee reader, modern au, written for fluffvember!
ALBEDO
It’s difficult not to take notice of the perpetually tired college student (much like yourself) who always comes at the latest hours to order a cup of black coffee and a can of beer. The first time you saw him order that drink was a memorable one, if only because of the way your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw him mix the two drinks in a large, empty slurpee cup and proceed to drink it all in a matter of seconds.
Another memorable time was when he came in with only enough money to buy a bottle of water, then took a seat at a table near the counter and took out a box full of what you initially presumed were cookies. It was a traumatizing memory you look back on with a shudder as you remember the way he crunched down on it like it was a piece of biscuit instead of a motherfucking spider.
“They’re surprisingly nutritional, full of protein and fibre. It leaves a strange aftertaste, but it’s a good substitute for dinner.”
Since then, you’ve made sure to keep some food ready in the microwave for him, free of charge. He just looked so pitiful sitting by himself with dark under-eyes and greasy hair — the very image of a normal college student — that you couldn’t help yourself from taking money out of your own pocket to help a fellow comrade.
One day, he came to the store with blown pupils and a sort of dazed look in his eyes, words slurring together as he tried to explain to you how he’s finally created an edible liquid that can keep sleep at bay for at least 120 hours…with some small side-effects, but it’ll wear off with time. That’s when you found out he was a bio-chemistry student well on his way to getting a PhD at his young age.
When questioned why he drank the liquid instead of having someone else do it, his response was, “To experience it firsthand, of course. The basis of research is accuracy and precision, how could I be remiss as to leave such an important experiment to someone who could, in their ignorance, fail to mention an important detail that their mind might have labeled as useless.”
You’re not quite sure how he’s still alive by this point.
But his weirdness aside, you resolve to take care of him in your own way, from a fellow tired college student to another. You remind him to get some sleep, steering him away from eating spiders and encouraging him to eat more meat.
“But I am eating meat?”
“Albedo, that’s a spider.”
“And are you saying that spiders do not possess meat?”
“Oh, for the love of—just eat the goddamn sandwich.”
You think he appreciates it, if the way he dedicated his latest thesis to you is any indication.
ALHAITHAM
You were in the middle of answering a math problem your professor assigned that morning, papers sprawled over the counter with you hunched over it, hand in your hair and trying not to pull at it in frustration over how difficult the problem was. And then he’d come in like an angel, all perfectly shiny hair and a no-nonsense look on his face, took one look at you and the papers scattered across the counter and said one sentence that saved your grade in math.
“You forgot to put a negative sign right there.”
That was the moment you decided that he must be an angel sent from heaven. He always grunts whenever you call him that, though whether it’s from amusement or annoyance remains to be seen.
He doesn’t visit the convenience store much, but when he does, he always spares the time to help you out with whatever assignment you were working on, sometimes even taking the initiative of asking if you need his assistance in answering a problem — though he says this on a much less nicer tone.
“Are you gonna make me do your homework again?”
“My professer didn’t assign me one today, surprisingly enough, so no.”
He seemed strangely disappointed when you told him no, but you chalked it up to him being some sort of math wiz who gets riled up by equations and the like. Seems like kind of guy too, what with all the times he’s made a subtle jab at your intelligence — or lack, thereof.
“How could you possibly need a paper to calculate the answer to four-hundred and thirty-two times fifty-eight?”
“Not all of us are smarter than Rukkhadevata like you.”
“Who?”
He’s not bad company, though that opinion stems solely from the fact that he helps you (solves it for you, more like) with all your homework. Not without making comments about you lazing about on the job and letting your customer answer your assignment for you. You respond in a mature way by making fun of him.
“I’ve never seen you without those earphones. Are you hiding a pair of large ears or something?”
“No.”
He refuses to elaborate more on the subject.
Sometimes you give him a drink, usually cola or juice, as thanks for helping you out. He takes it without question, taking sips from it as he tutors you about this and that, occasionally commenting about your job and how you’re only making yourself suffer by taking on midnight shifts. You don’t see why he cares. For all that you jokingly call him an angel, you know he’s far from actually being one.
You once saw him on campus reading a book by the library. It’s easy enough to come up to him and make conversation, handing him an unopened drink you just bought from a vending machine. It just feels wrong not to, more of a habit by this point.
It’s then that someone decides to dramatically drop his books to the ground and point at you and Alhaitham. The blonde guy gapes and asks how in the world Alhaitham managed not to scare you away. His eyes zero in on the can of grape juice on Alhaitham’s hand, and then he proceeds to laugh, asking Alhaitham since when did he decide to start drinking what he once called was an unhealthy drink composed of sugar and artificial flavoring.
You made a mental note of that response, and later that night, you decide to hand him a packaged biscuit. Nothing unhealthy there. Technically.
“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should start taking medicine in case my stomach burst from the amount of cola you hand me.”
“You could’ve just not accepted, you know.”
“It was given to me. Not accepting would be considered rude.”
“Didn’t Kaveh say you threw a bottle of orange juice to his face after he gave you one?”
“I did.”
He refuses to elaborate more on the subject, but you’ve since resolved to only give him the healthiest thing you could find on the store—which isn’t much considering this is a 7-eleven, but hey, microwaved salad is still salad, right?
He grumbles about the radiation but eats the salad anyway. Another win for you, you suppose.
CHILDE
He came in near the end of your shift, lips busted and an eye swollen shut, blood splattered all over his clothes. The grin on his face should’ve hinted you at his lunacy, but you’ve always been blind to warnings and the like, so you went over the counter and helped him up from where he’s slumped over the chips and candies isle.
Aether, your co-worker and the one who’s about to take over from your shift, only looked at you with tired eyes, “It’s too early for this shit.” That was, of course, Aether’s way of basically saying, you’re on your own.
So you picked up the ginger lying on the linoleum floors, heaving his arm over your shoulder to drag him to the nearest pharmacy — never let it be said that you were just a bystander. He groaned as the movement bothered whatever injuries he may have, but he still looked at you with wide, strangely lightless eyes, as if only now registering your presence, and said, “Holy shit, you’re hot.”
After you finished dumping him on the pharmacy and leaving the people there baffled at what to do with an injured guy, he grabbed your wrist and, with a bloody smile he probably thought was charming, handed you a piece of paper containing his number.
You never text him. Or call.
He comes back to the store a week later with faint yellow bruises across his face and a far too bright grin for someone who’s visiting a 7-eleven at two in the morning. He pouts about not getting a single text from you, but before you can respond, he’s moving on to another topic, mindlessly picking up a box of tampons by the side and setting it on the counter.
He only seems to realize what he’s done when you give him a strange look.
“Tampons are, uh, great for bloody noses!”
“…Right.”
You weren’t convinced at all, but you decided to let it slide. He seemed like a genuine guy, if a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. His mouth never shuts ups, always going on about this and that, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve normally had most normal people backing away. But your brain isn’t exactly at its best condition and being sleep deprived for the better part of your life has made it less of a brain and more of an organ that just helps you get through the day.
You don’t know exactly why he stays to chat with you, buying ridiculous amounts of stuff that were frankly far too expensive just to have an excuse to talk to you. You don’t mind it much, especially when he’s a great deterrent for any unwanted petty thieves or middle school delinquents trying to rob your store every week or so.
Apparently, he’s got a reputation for being a bit of an adrenaline junkie and being willing to fight anything and everything that breathes. And apparently, word’s gotten out that he’s into you, like, really into you, so most guys who have less-than-well intentions have decided that robbing the local 7-eleven isn’t worth the trouble if it means having to deal with Ajax.
“Actually, it’s Tartaglia.”
“Tarantula?”
“No, Tartaglia. It’s my street name! Ajax just doesn’t inspire the same fear into other people’s hearts the same way Tartaglia does.”
“Whatever you say, Tortilla.”
“It’s Tartaglia!”
He never brings up the fact that you never call or text him back, even when he’s somehow gotten ahold of your number and started sending you memes and updates about his day. When asked, he just shrugs and says he’ll win you over eventually.
SCARAMOUCHE
It wasn’t intentional, and you’ll admit it was completely your fault, but did he have to be such an asshole about you dozing off on the counter?
“Have the standards really fallen so low that employees are now afforded to sleep on the job?”
Here was this guy at two in the morning, bemoaning society’s failure in raising the new generation to have a proper work ethic at a 7-eleven store. The guy had a rolex watch and clothes that looked like they were worth more than your monthly salary — you’re not one to judge other people’s appearances, but he’s the very image of nepotism. And frankly speaking, you’re of the opinion that rich people shouldn’t be entitled to an opinion on what the working class decides do with their life, like falling asleep on the job.
…And oh, you just said that out loud, didn’t you?
Oh well, your manager will understand.
The guy with a bowl cut leaves fuming, but not before slapping a wad of cash down the counter to pay for his stupidly expensive noodles, snarling at you to keep the change since you clearly need it more than him.
You do, in fact, keep the change. Money is money, whether it’s from your salary or a rich boy throwing a tantrum.
The next day in class, a bag slams down the seat beside you, and you’re met with the same rich boy from last night, a scowl painting his rather pretty face as he hisses lowly about how he’s surprised you can afford to go to college. Talk about holding a grudge, you would’ve forgotten all about him from last night if he hadn’t given you his change.
He fumes even more when you don’t give him any sort of reaction, merely nodding your head at him and turning back to the board to listen to your professor drone on about this and that. It’s rather difficult to focus, however, when he keeps muttering sarcastic comments and barbs to the teacher beneath his breath.
“If you even had an iota of charm about you, perhaps your wife wouldn’t have filed for a divorce.”
You choked on a laugh, hand coming up muffle the sound, but he clearly noticed, judging by the way he snaps his head to you, eyes wide and seemingly surprised you found it funny. You only smile at him, an amused little thing, but he quickly looked away and murmured something unintelligible beneath his breath, his fists clenched and the tips of his ears curiously pink.
He comes back to visit your job that night, still with that air of haughtiness about him but a bit toned down. Even more surprising was the fact he didn’t immediately leave the moment he handed you his money.
“Do you want the change?”
“Are you so desperate for money that you’d go begging a total stranger for some spare coin?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess.”
“Tch, fine. You can have it.”
He never fails to come back every night, always giving you the change for his bill, even when the amount is more than the items he paid for. Sometimes, he’ll even take out a snack or a drink from the bag and slide them over to you, cheeks suspiciously red as he did so.
“Don’t think this means anything. I’m only giving this to you because I know you can’t afford it.”
“It’s literally worth ten mora.”
“Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you?”
“Thank you, Kunikuzushi. I’ll be sure to treasure this can of cola that I would’ve never been able to afford without your help.”
“Shut up.”
He buys you a tub of ice cream the next night, the ridiculously expensive kind, to prove a point. The two of you eat it together at one of the tables, him grumbling about the stain on the table and the overall lack of quality and taste — at a 7-eleven — and you laughing whatever he says.
Well, you suppose he’s not as much of an asshole as you initially assumed.
VENTI
He’s a bit popular in campus, in the sense that nearly everyone is friends with him, which makes it impossible not to have heard about that one guy who’s really great at singing. You were, unfortunately, one of the few that aren’t well acquainted with him — aren’t acquainted with him at all.
So when he comes up to the counter, all boyish grin and ridiculously short shorts and a cute little pink hair clip keeping his bangs away from his face, holding an entire household’s worth of vodka and wine, you do what any rational semi-adult would do and look at him with a blank face.
“Are you even old enough to drink?”
He laughs at you like this is a common occurrence he faces on the daily before slapping down his ID on the counter. And huh, would you look at that, he’s even older than you are.
He then lights up once he gets a good look at you. “Hey, you’re Albedo’s friend, aren’t you?” He abandons his alcohol at the counter in favor of looking around your quaint little convenient store. “So this is that 7-eleven he keeps talking about…”
You’re not exactly sure what he’s going on about, but you do know he must be a friend of Albedo’s, which makes you ease up around him. He’s nice. Sort of. If you ignore the teasing and the jokes and the way he keeps asking you to give him a student discount. For alcohol. You’d given him what you hoped was your best imitation of Kunikuzushi’s stink eye. You think you got it on point, if the way he deflates is any indication.
He comes around the store every weekend, saying he’s here to get a little treat for the awful weekday he’s had. You never fail to remind him that he has class every Sunday, to which he responds by opening a can of beer (which he hasn’t paid for yet) and sitting on the counter, bemoaning the injustice of putting classes during the weekends.
You once asked him why he keeps hanging around this store when there’s a perfectly good bar right around the corner, owned by that popular red-haired business major from your university. Venti just laughed and said he prefers the quietness here — and the company, he added with a wag of his eyebrows. He always teases you, sometimes borderline flirting, but it’s easy enough to wave it away.
The day you discovered he was actually well known in campus was when your university hosted a local event. There’d been stalls and booths set up everywhere and even a little mock-stage put up near the center for any band or singer to perform in. It’d been nice to have a break from the monotonous routine of going to class and studying then working at your job and getting less than ideal sleep.
And then you heard your name booming out from the speakers, and you turn your head to see Venti on the stage with that little lyre he sometimes carries with him to the store, saying he’d like your opinion on a song or two he composed.
He dedicates the song to you in front of the entire student body, then proceeds to sing the cheesiest, most gut-wrenching and cringiest love song of all time.
“Why did you have to pick that song?”
“Because it’s fun and cute!”
“I sometimes question your ability to distinguish cute from horrifyingly monstrous.”
There’s a mortified look on your face, but amidst the embarrassment and the teasing remarks of his friends, there’s a smile on your face that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away.
i’ll be doing a part two on this but with diluc, dottore, kazuha, xiao, and zhongli!
After a month of Whump, it’s gonna be Fluff Time!!
Hello! This is Fluffvember, a month long event of pure fluff and comfort! This was originally an idea made by @/kjpurplepineapple, to follow a month of whump (whumptober) with a month of fluff, and I loved it so much I’ve just carried it on for the last two years. :) Figured I’d make some prompts so we could all have fun together.
RULES:
The prompts are listed in a numerical order, but they are not tied to any given day. Do whatever prompt on whatever day you like! If prompt #1 appeals to you but you don’t have time to get it done by November 1, do it any day of the month. :) You are also more than welcome to just stick to the order listed.
Writing/art can be pure unadulterated fluff, calm slice of life moments, easygoing reading… it can even be hurt/comfort! As long as the comfort heavily outweighs the hurt, all warm, fuzzy vibes are welcome. ❤️ The point of this event is to share nice vibes, both to our characters and each other. :)
You don’t have to tag me if you don’t want to, but it would be fun if you tag your writing/art with #fluffvember so I and others who want to indulge in comfort/fuzzy vibes can find it!
Without further ado, here are the prompts! Pick a theme/word prompts or a quote, or both!
Snow // “I’m stealing your blanket”
Blanket fort // “Come back to bed”
Nature walk // “I’m sorry, when did we step in paradise??”
Hot spring // “This hits the spot”
Apple picking // “Oh my gosh, you do not know how to cook”
Windy day // “Come closer, I can’t hear—ahhh too close, too close!”
Massage // “I didn’t know you could sing”
Bird watching // “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Homecoming // “I missed you”
Accommodating // “I’ve got you”
Teaching/learning // “It’s tradition”
Dog/cat/pet // “I can die happy now”
Friendly competition // “You’re going to love this”
In the rain // “Let me help you”
In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”
Hug // “This isn’t a negotiation, friend”
Favorite book/story // “I wanted to share this with you”
Music // “I learned this from my parents”
Family time // “We’re very blessed”
Coming of age // “I’m so proud of you”
The Reluctant Softie // “UGH FINE I’LL DO IT”
Teddy bear/animal plushie // “Give [insert] a kiss for me”
Self care // “Thank you for believing in me”
Cuddle pile // “You’re not gonna let go, are you?”
Washing someone’s hair // “I can stay with you”
Infodumping // “I love hearing you talk about this”
