Way Back Home

Way Back Home

Previous part~

Relationships: Separate!GenshinCharacters x gn!Reader Characters: Xiao, Childe, Scaramouche Genre: Fluff and Crack Comfort Warnings: Just Spain without the a

Song: SHAUN feat. Conor Maynard - Way Back Home

Author’s Notes: For once in my life, I am here to serve you with a well deserved fluff.

Summary: You will always find your way back home.

Xiao

He mistook your tiredness as the need to leave. Little did he know, you were anxious to go back.

But you had to go back, because you had never said your goodbyes to your family back in the other world.

Other, because that world was no longer your home. You found comfort in Liyue, and it had the person you wish to build a home with.

Xiao can no longer feel you. You had finally left this world with the Traveler. He felt lost yet secretly hoping you would come back.

Oh boy, every night he takes time to search for your voice, uttering your name softly hoping you would respond with his. Then one night, you did.

Xiao had been used to being alone for a very long time until you came into his life. But now that you’re gone he mostly reminisce about your touch and your overall presence. He had sworn to himself that you would always have a place in his heart until the end of time.

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t push these feelings away. He would replay your memory with him over and over again so he doesn’t forget about you. You had only been gone for a year, and he was already losing himself to the memory.

Like always, one night is all it took. He sat on his usual spot where he would gaze upon the stars, wishing and hoping for something. Was he ready to let you go?

Your name slips past his lips longing for an answer. Then suddenly he hears you call out to him, the same voice, the same voice he loves and will always love.

Ah yes, even the stars are messing with him now. “Xiao, I’m home.” Yeah right, home. He wasn’t your home- He must be hallucinating. Is his karmic debt finally engulfing him whole?

Laughing to himself, he felt his chest tighten. What if he does follow the voice and you weren’t there? But Xiao could care less anymore, hallucination or not…what if it was truly you?

This man found himself back at the Wangshu Inn, is his mind really messing with him? Xiao doesn’t take things slow, but for once in his life every step he took was heavy and he wouldn’t dare teleport his way through the top. He needed time to prepare himself after all.

You on the other hand were standing at the edge of the Inn’s balcony, fiddling with your fingers looking like a mess. Xiao would definitely come, right? All you had to do was call out his name, right? Is he mad at you?

You were exhausted, who new world traveling would suck your soul out down and over? It doesn’t matter, at least you are back even though it felt like you got ran over by a truck.

Xiao might have taken his sweet time up the stairs, but the moment he saw your figure though the door. You wouldn’t believe how fast he sprinted his way to you. He knew it was really you, he can feel it, he can finally feel you. “You’re here-” He could only mutter softly, holding you like you would fly away any second. “I’m finally home.” Celestia above, he will never let you pull that shit again-

Childe

Why wait for the next life when you’re already rummaging your way through his office? This man’s office had been a mess for these past 6 months.

You had only come back, and the thing that welcomes you is hell. It looks like a hurricane ran over this place, and you could only sigh to yourself.

You arrived early this morning when he had already left. Nowadays he would spend a lot of time outside, taking up every mission he can get his hands on.

At night he would spend time doing paperwork and thrashing his office. That would explain the mess this room has to offer.

You may or may not have bribed his secretary and fixed the place up by yourself. You might as well do this after the whole shit you pulled.

Childe might have wished you the best, but he wasn’t doing the best on his own. He had gotten more frustrated every passing day.

Even the other harbingers wouldn’t dare touch that subject with a 10 feet pole. They might lose a limb or two if they try.

Childe hadn’t been sleeping well either, he didn’t want to wake up disappointed without you beside him.

The feeling was intoxicating and heavy, he doesn’t know how long it would take for him to move on. Does he even wish to move on? Forget about you? Hell no. Weaponized trauma, that’s what he is good about.

Making his way through the office, he cannot wait to cry himself to sleep and just do what needs to be done. The amount of paperwork he has to do though might distract him away from the crying.

Scratch that, you might distract him away from all that. The moment he steps foot in that dreadful office of his, he saw you slumped on his chair asleep.

Yeah right, that is a definite hallucination. He doesn’t even think you are an intruder. He only sighed to himself, too tired to bother.

He felt a tug in his chest though, sweaty palms and all the glory. He was spiraling and may or may not be panicking.

He made his way to your side, trembling with every step. He basically welcomes your presence by poking you. He pokes you for a few times, still panicking when he can actually feel you.

You woke up to him standing there, bent over and poking you. “Ajax, what the hell?” Don’t mind the man if he basically launched himself far to the corner of the room.

“Ajax, what the hell are you doing?” You raised you head, looking at him in disbelief. “Y/N?”

“Your place was a mess so I cleaned it-” You responded back with a yawn. Childe didn’t let you go after that.

That entire night, He might have cried in your arms. He cannot believe that you decided to clean this place up the moment you get back. Like of all things, why his office? You’re unbelievable.

Scaramouche

He forgot that you would always tell him Goodbyes does not mean forever. That goodbyes for you are promises to come back.

He was just used to being left alone that he quickly disregarded your words thinking that you really did leave him completely.

Please for the love of everyone that are dead and alive, you quickly went back as fast as you can. You knew Scara wouldn’t last years.

You had only been gone for 3 months, just 3 months. Now you’re here wrapped around his arms. He hadn’t let you go for 5 hours already. Yes, you counted.

Scaramouche might wear a cold exterior outside his comfort, but when it comes to you he gets unbelievably clingy.

It took him a long time to be comfortable like this though, when you were just starting out he would flinch with every touch.

You knew he was touch starved, but also in fear of abandonment. You both took time to make him appreciate himself more as a person rather than a hollow puppet with predetermined existence.

You regret leaving him even just for a second, that’s why you forced your way back between worlds. You were exhausted, but you knew Scara wouldn’t let go.

You don’t mind, you missed him after all. Little did he know, you may or may not have injured yourself with your forced travels through a wormhole. He only realized this when he hugged you a little too tight, and you went oomph for a second.

“Ah scara, be a little gentle. I think I broke a rib through-” “ Excuse me what the fuck do you mean you broke a rib!?” Ah man, this is going to be a long night. But at least you’re back, right?

Author’s Notes: Albedo’s prompt would be separate because I feel like I owe you people that much.

thinking about ayato, with his pristine suit and silky smooth gloves. no one thinks of him to be much of a fidgeter, as he always graces a welcoming and easygoing smile that always reaches his eyes, but he tugs at the hem that rests just above his wrist when no one’s looking, or his sleeves are down and cover his hands. it’s not like him — or at least that’s what everyone says — but what would they know? he’s a busy man and he rarely appears in public, much less to be with you. it’s not that he harbors any ill feelings towards the notion of it, but he’s very much prefer to share that intimacy behind closed doors.

thinking about ayato, who offers you an outstretched hand in greeting. he bows his head as he dips down to press thin lips to your rough knuckles. you’re scoffing and he’s chuckling, the corners of his mouth quirked into a lighthearted smirk. you try to shake your hand away with the excuse that the skin is dry from the cold, but he’s having none of it.

thinking about ayato, who towers over you with bright eyes and a gentle smile. in the time and effort it takes for you to take three steps, he takes one in stride. it’s a comical sight, given his tall and slender build, but he feels that you can’t be more of a perfect match. there comes with his height a sense of duty that extends past his responsibilities as yashiro commissioner: to protect you. he doesn’t voice his feelings to you because he expects you’ll chide him for it. he’s satisfied enough when he has a spare moment at your side.

thinking about ayato, whose thoughts always go to you. you come first, so expect that he quickly rushes to your aid if need be. he reaches the doors first so that he may hold them open for you, he immediately offers his coat when you point out the first sign of rainfall, a single drop on your head. he is always thinking of others — it’s his job to — and in your case it’s no different. he will always seek your comfort first above all and anything else.

thinking about ayato, who gazes at you from across the countertop with such fondness in his eyes. he’s stealing glances while someone steals your attention for the time being, simply watching you talk and express yourself. he’s fascinated by how animated you are as you do, and his chest fills with a warmth unmatched by any open flame. no one could miss the admiration he holds for you; it’s as clear as day.

Ⓒ diluvey 2022. do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

𓈈 ❛ YOU KNOW I DO. ♡ ❜ ˏ ˏ eren jaeger

ᨒ warnings . fem reader , black coded reader ! , best friends -> lovers ( ? ) / best friends with benefits . . i dunno , lotsa flirting , fingering , oral sex ( f -> m ) , both reader + eren are tipsy off wine , squirting , creampie , unprotected sex , use of daddy ( only twice ) , pet name usage ( ex. pretty, good girl, pretty girl ) , slight dubcon ( reader doesn’t wna make a mess , eren kinda forces you to ) , sex flashback mentioned , mention of reader havin tummy rolls when she’s folded up , don’t care how tall you are eren’s taller than you , characters are aged up to their early twenties ! ᨒ word count . 6.1k ᨒ kreamie'z note blep ! :3 in honor of my favorite boy’s birthday ! here it is ! ! ! haven’t posted in like . . a month. i’m sawry :c forgive lil ol me </3 pls tell me if i missed anything in da tagz ! rbs appreciated ! && minors, for the love of fawkin christ, do not interact ! ! 

i’m outside.

eren lets his phone drop back inside of the cup holder on his armrest after the text shoots through with a small ping!. i’m not a succulent or a sucker, baby girl. these roots made me, i bring my flowers to the world. his head nods slowly to the steady, rise and fall tempo of the beat echoing through his bmw m4 coupe’s speakers and he lets his hands fall from gripping the lower portion of his steering wheel to drop limply on his lap when realizing two, three, four minutes have passed and you still haven’t exited your building yet.

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he murmurs underneath his breath, preparing to grab his phone to instead call you this time, only to watch the metal gate of your apartment complex swing open as you come walking out the second he clicks on your contact name.

in all sincerity, eren considers himself to be a simple guy. he sees something he likes, he appreciates it. something he dislikes, he’ll say it.

when he sees you start to walk to his car, dressed in a thin strapped, hot pink, curve hugging sundress that reached your ankles with a high slit to show off those fuzzy slides he loves when you wear with each step you take, eren habitually spreads his legs just a little bit wider. he does this every time he sees you and he doesn’t really know why — or, to plainly speak and to be completely honest, he doesn’t know why his dick goes rock hard after every single time he steals a simple glance of you.

“hey,” you breathe out and give a pretty smile when the passenger door’s open and you’re letting your hefty, marc jacobs tote bag drop onto his lap. eren usually makes fun of you for having a bag so big and is quick to make a snide comment about the accessory each time he sees you wearing it, however today, his complete and total focus is just on you, you, you.

he hums, letting his eyes openly cart themselves down the length of your frame. “you look good.”

when you’re buckled in and the door’s shut, he gets a nice nose full of strawberry poundcake. his dick grows harder.

you playfully roll your eyes and snatch your bag from his lap to plop it onto yours then adjust the strap of your dress to pull the front of it up higher to keep your tits from spilling over the scoop neck. “i know.”

Keep reading

“friends don’t kiss each other like this.”

or: the things they’d say to you in return.

character/s: xiao, scaramouche, kazuha, ayato, childe, diluc, thoma, albedo

“then maybe we shouldn’t just be friends.” XIAO mumbles dazedly between your kiss, fingers tracing your jawline as he absently admires the soft luster of his saliva on your lips. he watches as you shyly lean in for another passionate kiss, and he can’t help the sly curve that threatens to contort across his lips when he pulls you in to willingly oblige.

“who said i wanted to be your friend?” SCARAMOUCHE sneers — triumphant in pinning your body to the wall to keep you from running away, yet equally mirroring the blatant crimson shade pouring across your face. he sneaks a hungry glance at your lips but doesn’t remember meeting them, until your timid initiation of a plush sensation vividly comes back to both his memory and reality again.

“‘m sorry, love. i don’t think i can do it anymore.” KAZUHA smiles in defeat, yearning quietly as he stares transfixed by your lips, enchanted by the feeling of your mouth against his. he hopes it’s okay with you that he’s finally expressed his stubbornly pent-up feelings for you — he hopes deep down you’ll kiss him once again long before he forgets the exhilarating feeling of it. and when you bashfully move closer to capture his mouth in another soft kiss, he wonders if you had somehow heard him begging you to put your lips on his aloud.

“archons, please don’t remind me about that.” ALBEDO murmurs in a low and annoyed breath, pulling you back into his lips to steal several more heated kisses. he hadn’t planned on what to do if you would have pushed him away out of disdain, but the fact that he feels you carefully melt in his arms and your fingers run through the tousled mess of his blonde hair, makes him softly smile and wonder if you had been waiting for this singularly beautiful kiss as long as he has.

“so you’re saying that…if i called you mine, you would let me kiss you again.” AYATO hums aloud in contemplation, giving you a side-glance of confirmation. his heart soars when you hurriedly look away with a bashful expression, and he cups your cheeks for a second time, now with the faithful promise and intent of making you truly his, for perhaps eternity if you had allowed him, and even longer then.

“great. i always thought that we could do better.” CHILDE smirks nonchalantly, pressing a soft kiss against your jawline when he sees your cheeks instantaneously erupt in burning red. he’s been making discreet advances after all these long years, and eventually rendered you a complete and utter idiot when you had simply brushed it off as a courteous gesture from a friend. he knows kissing you will finally thrust his perseverant intention in your mind — and he figures by the flustered look on your face, you don’t seem to mind being on the receiving end for a handful more moments of his lips against yours.

“i wasn’t kissing you as a friend…” THOMA awkwardly clears his throat, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to his ears. it had taken him weeks, or even months, to finally set his mind on the bold gesture of kissing you and asking you out. he had prayed to the gods that there was a possibility you wouldn’t reject him after everything you’ve made him feel, but that singular string of hope began to dissipate farther into the deep abyss. and he only manages to grab ahold of that long-drifting fantasy, when you’ve eventually brought him back to reality, by grabbing his shirt in hopes of meeting his lips for a second time, and maybe someday, a thousand more times.

“that’s fine, i wasn’t planning on staying as one for any longer.” DILUC whispers hotly against your lips, dizzy by the unfamiliar yet addicting sensation of the kiss. he knows he should probably distance himself from the close proximity, because if you keep clutching so tightly onto his coat for any longer, he might just take his chances and make the mistake of kissing you again. but you stay stubborn in your position despite looking hazy and flushed, and this time when he latches his mouth against yours, he doesn’t bother to care about any more regrets later on.

love at first bite.

premise: most customers visit your cafe for the delicious bread and good coffee, but he comes for the cute barista behind the counter.

info: your parents run a bakery-slash-cafe and as their child, you're naturally expected to help around the shop. unknowingly, you attract attention in the process.

characters: kazuha, thoma, xiao, childe, albedo, scaramouche & ayato !

kazuha, a part-time employee at the bakery

when your grandmother grew too frail to work at the cafe due to old age and had to retire, the shop had a shortage of helping hands thus needing someone to work her shift. enter kazuha kaedehara, a sweet boy in the neighborhood who's always been in good terms with your older brother. having his eyes on a particular game console at the time, he was happy to help while earning some pocket money for himself.

but even after successfully purchasing the item he saved up for, he continued to work at the cafe. it was certainly something your family appreciated, since kazuha was pleasant company and he was skilled in the kitchen. remarkably more efficient than you for the job, actually, despite the fact you're the one who'll receive the business in the future.

“you won't be so troubled if he were to run the business with you,” your mother stated in what you hoped to be in jest, not subtle in the slightest with her thoughts of kazuha being a suitable son-in-law after he so sweetly prepared a cake for your surprise birthday party. your face burned while kazuha only laughed in cheer, perhaps missing the hidden insinuations. (why else would he smile at that?)

time passed in the blink of an eye and he eventually became a face you often saw first thing in the morning, cheeks dusted with flour and hands gripping a tray of baked goods fresh from the oven. rays of shimmering gold bathed him in an otherworldly glow, smile brightening when he catches sight of your figure by the door.

then you'll grab a towel and rub off the dirt on kazuha's face, missing the way his eyes crinkle in mirth. missing the way your older brother rolls his eyes at the action very much alike pda. missing how you've been doing this for the past three years and not once stopped to think about why he had flour on his face all the time, and if he'd been doing it on purpose just to see you in this proximity. an unceasing part of routine that came as naturally as going to sleep at night and waking at morning.

you see him a lot more in the summer when you both share shifts at the same time, you working at the counter and him at the kitchen preparing treats that already sold out. (he reasoned he preferred it that way to avoid getting flirted with.)

“could i get another order?” the customer you noticed have been staring strangely at you for the entire duration of his stay suddenly went up to ask. you paste on a flawless customer service smile regardless of your discomfort, thinking he hadn't done anything wrong yet. “of cou-”

“[name], there's something odd about the hand mixer,” kazuha cuts in, peeking through the door and knocking on the wood to gain your attention. “could you check it for me? i'll switch with you.”

your expression drifts to one of genuine distress, not picking up on the excuse he provided for an easy way out. you rush to the kitchen and kazuha takes your place, much to the customer's disappointment. this does not not escape his attention and kazuha smiles, “what can i get for you?”

one half-hearted order later, the customer finally leaves. the smile on kazuha's face drops as he picks up the piece of tissue the man left on the counter, scrawled with a set of numbers in dark ink.

“it worked just fine?” you return after checking on the fully functional hand mixer, confusion apparent on your expression. kazuha breezily slips on a smile, crumpling the tissue in his hand and shoving it inside his pocket.

“really? that's great.”

thoma, your childhood friend

once upon a time at the tender age of seven, you had a timid disposition and had few names you could confidently proclaim as your friend. however, thoma was an intelligent child who figured out being friends with a person who owned a bakery entailed sharing snacks with each other at breaks.

lured by the mouthwatering scent of your lunchbox, he approached your desk and initiated a conversation. his friendly demeanor had managed to break you out from your shy shell, and from there on, you began to spend time together, him oh-so-generously offering to walk you home so he could stop by the bakery. his efforts were rewarded when your parents were delighted seeing a new friend of yours, shoving a packet of chocolate cornets in his hands.

...well, that's how it started, but it wasn't like all he wanted from you was free food. he wormed his way into your life, growing close not only to you but also your family; your grandfather was especially fond of him. he even became an unofficial employee of sorts, tidying the bakery when the opportunity arose. your parents spoiled him rotten with sweets in return, them often being the cause of thoma's cavities before you grew up...

speaking of growing up, you long left primary school and now attended different schools, but thoma made it a habit to pick you up and walk home together just as you did often before, leading to misunderstandings of your classmates thinking he was your boyfriend. which couldn't be any more wrong.

but it was true that he was the sole receiver of your valentine's chocolate for a long, long time, something that he prided over. which is also weird, considering he received more than enough chocolate to fill his bag close to bursting each year. (it's special, you remember him telling you once. as to why, he wasn't very keen on informing you, maybe even a little shy about it. is it because you're good at baking? it surpassed other people's attempts at homemade chocolate? it had more meaning compared to storebought chocolate? you can only guess.)

so really, he's astonished when he spots another box of brownies stuffed in your belongings, peculiarly wrapped in a more elaborate manner compared to his bland plastic packaging. heart-patterned in a pale pink, topped with a delicate ribbon trimmed with white lace.

he narrows his eyes, fingers ghosting over the box. “who's this for?”

he gets a whiff of a pleasant scent on you, some perfume your aunt had given you on a holiday. you styled your hair differently that day, too, not a single imperfect crease seen on your clothes, lips glossy with a sheen of tint thoma remembered gifting you as a present before.

your cheeks flush in a rosy color, stuttering out an excuse. an excuse that doesn't register in thoma's head because of the buzzing in his ears, but he doesn't really need to hear it to understand; he'd be a fool not to guess this was for a special someone.

a special someone that isn't him, clearly.

xiao, the classmate you've been crushing on

contrary to popular belief, your infatuation with xiao hadn't been established from the start. you belonged in the same class but you weren't especially interested in him at first glance, staying far, far away from classmates fighting over the seats beside him. he had a pretty face, that much was obvious, and maybe you did stare at him a little longer than you had to... but that was the extent of it, an appreciation for things you found pleasing to the eye.

“the inside matters more than the outside” is a phrase as good as horse shit, empty words used to placate the ugly community. even with unread love letters trashed in garbage bins, succinct replies to heartfelt confessions, and other actions that might be considered rude if it was a less attractive man doing them, xiao remained a desirable prospect as a lover. the world just worked that way. you didn't feel particularly envious of him, but you didn't see him in a positive light either.

and his opinion of you... well. it was less than ideal when he saw you at the supermarket going grocery shopping once; he had only vaguely recognized you as his classmate when the moment you laid eyes on him, you gasped “salt!” and ran towards the aisles containing spice.

(to be fair, he was reminded he needed to buy a comb after seeing your messy hair.)

though as the seasons changed with flowers blooming in warm spring and wilting in bleak winter, underneath all that grouch xiao was pretty nice. it was a matter of his apprehension melting away and your presence growing ever more familiar as days passed. his cold exterior warmed into something sweeter, something far less bitter compared to how he appeared at the beginning.

if it were five months ago, if you were to get yourself injured by accident while preparing a meal in home economics class, he would've frowned and said “did you cut your finger?” “yes.” “don't let your blood mix with the soup.”

if it were in the present, he'd frown all the same but the furrow in his brow would suggest visible concern rather than slight annoyance, taking out teddy bear-patterned bandaids he pretends he doesn't carry all the time for exact situations like these because you weren't good with knives. (baking is different from cooking, damn it.) his hands would be frustratingly gentle as he wraps your cut finger, and the soft tenderness that always graced his actions towards people he cared about was more than enough to make you fall hard.

then you remembered your mother's teachings. “the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

the thing is, nobody at your school knew your family ran a bakery. it wasn't something you actively tried to hide, it just never came up at conversations. if you were to act as a romantic “secret admirer” and send baked goods to test xiao's reaction before confessing, you'd at least get an estimation of your chance at success of snagging a hot boyfriend. that has to earn you extra points for bribery creativity, right?

so. that's how xiao came to receive colorful bite-sized macarons, cream puffs piped with custard, glazed cinnamon rolls, and anything of the sort packaged neatly in boxes sent anonymously every few days. the notes greeting him good morning or wishing him luck for a test later that day are all printed, hence not giving away the sender's identity by their handwriting.

as much as xiao appreciates the gesture, however, he also looks guilty. when you ask him why, heart pounding in your chest, he flushes red at your eager expression and quietly admits, “i already have someone i like.”

childe, a troublesome customer

from your numerous years working at the cafe, you've seen a lot of things: the anticipation and nervousness in blind dates, the endearing awkwardness of first dates, the sweet thoughtfulness of friends and family buying snacks for a certain someone, and —

the entire shop broke into collective gasps as the cup of coffee was thrusted towards across the table, splashing the boy seated in that direction. he seemed astonished, pristine white shirt soaked in a muddy brown, and the girl accompanying him made a point to place the now empty glass loudly against the table. “you're the absolute worst!” she seethed, tears rolling down her cheeks. she left in fury, leaving without waiting for a response.

...break ups. not the most common, but they definitely happen. they're mostly not this dramatic though.

the boy left behind attempted a smile. albeit strained, it was enough to stop the other patrons from looking at the spectacle. kazuha seemed hesitant to deal with it, so it was up to you to approach him with a towel. he looked a bit pitiful cleaning his face with tissues. “are you... okay?” you winced at your own question and amended with, “do you have anything else you need?”

he laughed. “i'll have to trouble you to mop this mess on the floor, but i'm alright. thanks.”

you nodded. not one to pry or meddle in someone else's relationship, you only went to do what you had to, mopping the coffee staining the ground. before the boy left, you noticed he left a generous tip.

you couldn't help thinking of him as that one guy who got dumped each time he visited the cafe though. but he never went with his (ex-)girlfriend ever again, only sometimes bringing along what you presumed were his younger siblings. he spoiled them, too, unrestrained as he pulled out his wallet and paid for a large amount of treats his brother and sister wanted to try.

and because he's a treasured benefactor, you thought it would be nice if you showed your appreciation somehow. you handed him a bag of pastries he hadn't asked for, to which he tilted his head in question.

“they're on the house,” you said. “new products. we're experimenting and haven't sold them yet. it would be helpful if you gave your opinion for them.”

he peeked at the contents, seeing they were muffins amongst other things. “thank you. i'll make sure to tell you my thoughts, though i'm already certain they'll be as delicious as everything else here.” he smiled.

it was simple as that. no entanglements that linked you in a personal level, but he found himself gravitating towards the cafe whenever he had free time to be idle. he didn't even eat what he bought most of the time, giving them away to his friends, aside from the time you personally gave him that bag of pastries yourself. he didn't even let his siblings touch them.

and maybe it didn't have to be so complicated. he was striving to find love all this time, only for each relationship to run dry quickly. it was always him not being enough, not paying his lovers enough attention, not giving them enough affection. what he thought was love didn't last for very long.

but maybe this could be. keeping it secret in his heart, quiet appreciation for the dazzling person behind the counter, nurturing the small crush that would only remain small if he didn't act upon it.

“could you try this for me?” you request, offering him a batch of brownies. you seem... shy. bashful. it's a new look. childe certainly have never seen you blush before.

he takes a bite and it's exquisite. “it tastes good. are you going to sell this too?”

“ah, no.” the tips of your ears redden further. “i'm... making them for someone.”

it is then when childe remembers valentine's day is approaching. it is then that he realizes, his heart sinking in disappointment. “oh. okay.”

albedo, the eye-candy regular

people-watching is a habit you pick up on when the clock is beyond hectic morning hours, the cafe that once bustled with cranky swarms of patrons demanding their daily dose of coffee emptying to something that lets you breathe more freely, frenzied atmosphere gradually settling into calm.

in the moments of respite, you find yourself fanning your face, having enough leisure to rest instead of frantically memorizing orders. that's when your gaze steers to the customers residing by the tables, enjoying snacks and sipping on their beverages. one specific customer catches your eye, and surely you aren't the only one who's unwittingly beckoned over by his charms.

beams of sunshine blanket around him in a soft glow, light brown hair almost gold in the bright rays. teal eyes are glued to the paper in front of him, hands smoothing over the surface as the pencil in his deft fingers glide in elegant strokes. his pink lips part when he brings the cup of cappuccino to his mouth, taking small sips and his tongue darts out to catch the foam-

...or so the girl near his table types furiously on her laptop, perhaps taking him as inspiration for a novel she's writing. good for her.

in any case, the face is a familiar one. you have no name to attach to his face, so you began dubbing him as “jeff”. for no particular reason. it's quite inconvenient to refer to him as “handsome window seat dude” all the time. unfortunately, the cafe has coaster pagers and there isn't any need to ask for customers' names so his name remains a mystery. jeff it is.

so “jeff” frequents the cafe during late morning, always bringing a new book with him or a sketchbook to while away the time. not that you see anything he draws. the most you see is other customers interrupting him in the middle of it, either to flirt with him or straightforwardly ask for his number. for politeness's sake, he makes an effort to not let his irritation show, but seeing the subtle shifts in his expressions over the course of several months has allowed you to notice the minute changes in his mood. (were you really staring that hard? or it's just a talent. you can't take xiao's words at face-value because he's a goddamned tsundere so now you've honed a talent for reading people.)

so it comes off as a shock when he strolls to the cafe visibly cross, exasperation rolling off him in waves. dark circles line his eyes, a crinkle in his brows hinting displeasure. fatigue emanates from his very being, and in spite of his impeccable appearance in the past in comparison to the zombies you have as customers before they get their desired caffeine, he doesn't look too different now.

even worse, when he finds his pockets empty without his wallet and he only manages a few coins in the deepest corners of his bag to afford the most bland item in the menu, he looks vaguely murderous.

you cough, driven to help since his expression makes you think your days are numbered if he doesn't get his coffee soon. “i can pay for you this time,” you offer. he stiffens, grateful but tentative. “it's no big deal.” you even slip in a plate of waffles as extra, topped with generous swirls of whipped cream and cut fruit.

“thanks, i'm... not myself today. stayed up all night,” he mumbles, adjusting his backpack strap where it's falling off his shoulders, heavy with textbooks he has to study. “i'll pay you back tomorrow... but i don't need the waffles, really.”

a couple bucks isn't much of a loss and you're not that much of a cheapskate. “it's alright. the waffles aren't even on the menu, it's just breakfast i made.”

“oh.” he seems mildly surprised at that. “...thanks.”

you push the brewed coffee in his direction when it's done, grinning at him. “have a good morning then, jeff.”

he gives you a weird look. “my name is albedo.”

“it's a trick. i wanted to find out your name.”

he blinks, still processing what you said. then for the first time that morning, albedo smiles.

(much much later when kazuha's cleaning the cafe, he finds a worn notebook placed on one of the empty tables. he doesn't like poking his nose into things he doesn't own, but in the hopes of finding the owner's name somewhere, he peruses through the pages of scrawls and doodles and sketches of scenery. he stops at a sketch of a face he knows by heart, surrounded by an embarrassing amount of flowers.)

(kazuha somehow dislikes how he instantly knows who it belongs to.)

scaramouche, a stray looking for shelter

scaramouche despises the rain.

especially when his partner for his project bails on him 30 minutes after their agreed meeting time (by text, no less! without a single apology!), and he wasted half an hour in the campus library for absolutely nothing. then 5 minutes after his departure, the sudden downpour takes him by surprise and further sours his sullen mood.

he rushes under the nearest roof he finds for shelter, the rain refusing to let up and only getting stronger by the second. cold winds nip at his skin, causing him to shiver in his partly drenched clothes. he follows the warm yellow light illuminating what he thinks is a coffee shop of sorts, the bell's chime announcing his entrance when he swings the door open.

the place is empty with the exception of one person behind the counter, storing the leftover baskets of pastries in the fridge. you blink, not expecting anyone else to arrive, and you assume you forgot to flip the “open” sign to “closed” again.

you don't have the heart to correct the customer though; he looks remarkably similar to a stray cat caught up in the rain, wet purple hair plastered on his forehead and cheeks and drenched jacket most likely not enough to give him warmth. his sharp eyes narrow and he's scowling, irritated at his stupid partner and this stupid rain and-

“you're closing?” he notices, and you nod. he clicks his tongue, obviously displeased.

“if you're only here for shelter, i can stay until the rain stops?” you suggest. “i closed early because i had to study, but i can study here since i have my textbooks anyway.”

“that...” scaramouche pauses, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed for coming off as rude. “if you're fine with it, then that would be nice... thank you.”

you nod again, ducking behind the storeroom to take care of other equipment, so scaramouche takes it as his cue to sit at one of the tables, brushing back his wet hair from sticking all over his face. when you return, a towel rests in your grip and you offer it to him kindly.

warmth settles in his chest, gratitude filling his heart. it strengthens when you wordlessly push a cup of hot chocolate in his direction before seating in another table, sheets of paper and numerous books haphazardly littered about. the only noise he can hear is the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside and the mindless taps of your fingers against the table as you practice test questions. the intermittent loud flicking of pages in workbooks and constant clicks of your pen should peeve him, bad habits in the library he finds annoying when he's trying to focus on reading, but it's strangely comforting in the otherwise silence shrouding the pair of you.

(he finds himself sneaking glances, unwittingly stealing a peek at the way your nose scrunches up adorably when you come across a tricky question. the way you worry your bottom lip, eyes sweeping over the contents of the workbook. the way a defeated sigh parts your lips, inevitably switching to another question to answer.)

(then he catches himself being a creep so he pinches his thigh to wake himself up.)

less than half an hour later, the drizzle reduces to gray clouds pierced by rays of sunlight. scaramouche prepares to leave, followed by you scrambling to pack your things. in your haste, your bag tips over, revealing a small umbrella. that prompts a prick of guilt to seep in his skin, knowing you could've left much earlier if he didn't hold you back.

“thank you, again,” he can't help but say. you wave him off, insisting it's not a bother.

the next time he visits, it's a week later. an umbrella is tucked by his side, this time, and the rainy season has discouraged people from coming so you're closing early except you don't have anything to shield from precipitation. you lent kazuha your umbrella when he ended his shift because you thought the rain would come to pass after an hour or so, and it... hadn't.

scaramouche peers inside, the sign still displaying “open” but you're storing away things just like last time. the cursory “sorry, we're already closing for the day” sticks to your throat when you realize who arrives.

“are you staying because of the rain?” you comment, sympathetic. he shakes his head.

“no, but...” scaramouche coughs awkwardly. “i could help walk you to the bus station... or wherever you're going, really. to return the favor.”

his courage exhausted, he's barely able to find the bravery to check your reaction. he stills when you smile at him so brightly.

it was worth his dignity then.

ayato, the friend of a friend

it starts horribly, a stain on your first impression that you can never redeem.

in your defense, it isn't intentional, except it kind of is — you didn't notice the boy with pale blue hair trailing after thoma when they arrived at the bakery, so you engage in your usual light-hearted banter while he walks away to wait at the table. shame was never felt between two friends who've seen both the best and worst of each other, so crass jokes and ill-timed quips are the norm.

hence why you unabashedly draw dicks on thoma's coffee cup sleeve when he pisses you off with some offhand comment followed by a stinging pinch to your cheek, unafraid of the consequences from the small payback.

except it isn't thoma's coffee after all, and ayato is understandbly confused when he spots phallic doodles on his coffee cup.

he should be affronted, angry and disturbed by the childish display and utter lack of professionalism from staff, but instead he laughs good-naturedly as you explain the situation in ashamed stutters heavily sprinkled with apologies.

so yes. you have positively fucked up your first impression in front of a scholarly young man by behaving in the most disgraceful of manners. he must've thought you an idiot lacking all sense of propriety... and a loser who still thinks drawing dicks is funny.

as it turns out, ayato hails from a stinking rich family who isn't quite in touch with a normal person's lifestyle. his life has always been a constant stream of studies and networking, his future laid out for him. he had little time for leisure and friends outside of allies and business partners, and his story of bonding with thoma would be a lot more moving if you weren't anxiously looking at the inappropriate phallic figures artfully drawn on ayato's cup sleeve that he still hasn't removed. it is a jarring sight to see a boy with a regal disposition fitting for royalty holding such a thing in a way that would make you think he was drinking aged fine wine from a treasured goblet.

part of you thinks he might be doing it on purpose, if only to amuse himself peering at your expressions of panic. he likes to pose himself as innocent but as time ticks by the longer you spend time with him, the more you think he may not necessarily be as much of a goody-two-shoes he acts to be. the sadistic streak is worrying and you're beginning to remember thoma's earlier complaints about a certain mischievous friend of his who likes to play tricks on him.

anyway, the point is: he's stinking rich, he's a sheltered young master, and he's trying out new things he has never experienced before. one of them is trying “peasant food”.

“our humble business doesn't have a single michelin star so i fear we won't be able to satisfy your palate,” you say, looking at ayato who's poking at the egg tart experimentally. “...maybe it would do you good to eat somewhere else?”

“he was impressed by the existence of instant noodles,” thoma supplies. “i don't think he's very picky.”

“the price tag doesn't guarantee tasteful flavors,” ayato chuckles. “but i liked the sweets thoma gave to me the other day. what were they called?”

“petit fours?”

“you gave him those petit fours i was still experimenting with for valentine's day?!” you whisper-shout in disbelief. thoma holds up his hands in surrender.

“they were very enjoyable. i'm sure other customers would like them as well,” ayato confesses honestly.

flattery won't get you anywhere, you want to say. but the conversation escalates in that direction. time passes by too quickly and before you realize it, the sun is already setting and they've been chatting with you on the counter the entire time.

ayato tells you he best return home for the day, if only a little unwilling to go. “though i am hoping what i find on the cup sleeve in my next visit would be different,” he teases.

you're actually not supposed to write anything on the cup in normal circumstances, but you decide to humor him. treasured benefactor and all. you know he has deep pockets. “...such as?” you cock up an eyebrow in question.

“something that will help us grow closer, perhaps.” he leaves with those cryptic words, thoma not far behind.

??? something that will help you grow closer??? he wants to be friends??? what kind of thing does he want you to write?

(the next time, to his satisfaction, he finds your number written on his cup sleeve.)

(it's unfortunate you misunderstood his intentions. ayato would hardly be this forward if he just wanted a friend.)

it ends with us.

pairing. okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

word count. 2.9k

genre/warnings. friends to lovers, one mention of suffocation, jjk 0 manga spoilers. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

summary. a lesson in friends, moving forward, and sleepovers.

or, four times you and your friends have a sleepover, and the one time it’s just you and yuuta.

The moment Gojo suggests a “first-year bonding sleepover,” Yuuta feels like crawling into a very tiny, very dark hole and never re-emerging. His first introduction to the class had already been disastrous, so he’s not sure why his teacher thinks this is a good idea—in fact, he’s quite sure it’s a dangerous one.

His other four classmates—Toge, Panda, Maki, and you—only stare at your teacher in slack-jawed shock. Surely he hadn’t forgotten the earlier Rika incident? Maki is the first to argue, and she and Gojo go back and forth before she has enough.

“Ugh, fine! But you can’t stay,” she hisses to Gojo despite his protests, cementing her hands on his back and shoving him outside. He smacks his forehead on the doorframe; you and Inumaki snicker to yourselves.

Once Gojo leaves, it’s extremely awkward, to say the least. Yuuta’s sure the four of you have had sleepovers together before, based on the organized way that you arrange yourselves for sleep. No one really speaks; you shuffle around the room, rearranging pillows and blankets and settling into your respective beds.

Yuuta situates his sleeping bag in the furthest corner of the room, nearly chewing his nails to the root with nervousness. He hopes Gojo’s room isn’t too far; if something goes wrong, the older sorcerer needs to be close by.

He lies awake for another thirty minutes, about fifteen minutes past the point where he’s sure the rest of you have fallen asleep. A pounding fear squeezes at his heart. He’s afraid to close his eyes for even a moment.

“Ah, Okkotsu?”

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