creative-frequency

[creative-frequency]

Caleb/Reader | Wonderful Nothing

Ever since you hugged Caleb at the Farspace Fleet starship’s interrogation room, you have tiptoed around each other and your feelings. It’s been almost a year, so isn’t it time to take the leap?

Your relationship with Caleb gets progressively more intimate and involved.

Summary: When Caleb promises to come over to cook for you and your colleagues, it requires setting up new rules for your relationship. The dinner is an opportunity to figure out what those rules are. First part of the series. From friends to lovers, first kiss. Word count: 4.6k ✈ PDA: public displays of affection ✈ Barycenter: The center of mass of two or more bodies that orbit one another and is the point about which the bodies orbit.

01 | Scrumptious

Caleb: waaait

Caleb: are you asking me to come over? ;)

You bite your lower lip as your thumbs hover over the screen. Of course you want him to come over, but will Tara and Simone consider it bothersome to have your… Caleb there when it kinda was supposed to be a girls’ night?

Your contemplation over a reply takes too long for Caleb’s patience and before you can hit even one letter, he calls you. You thought he was supposed to be at work having meetings all day.

“What’s up?” you answer.

The instant the first prolonged syllable leaves Caleb’s mouth, you can hear him smiling.

“Soo… You’d tell me if there was a reason I shouldn’t come down to Linkon next weekend, right?”

Caleb’s familiar, teasing tone makes warmth bloom in your soul and on your cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you groan and switch to cradling the phone between your other ear and palm. You pull out another creamy white cardigan from the rack and inspect it critically, tilting your head. Why do they all look the same?

“You don’t know?” Caleb laughs on the phone, the sound a safe haven from all the stupid thoughts in your head.

“I promised to cook for Tara and Simone. So. It’s a girls’ night. Maybe,” you add tentatively.

Caleb is silent for a while. “Mm. Okay.”

You sense the ‘but’ incoming and wait for him to continue. After scrutinizing the cardigan for a second longer, you sigh inwardly and put it away. Perhaps a bit too vanilla. White might also be too susceptible to stains.

“What if… I cooked for you all and then went out for a few hours so you can have your girl talk,” Caleb finally suggests.

You like the idea more than you care to admit. For the past year, Caleb has spent every weekend and your concurrent day off either in Linkon with you or you have traveled to Skyhaven to his place. And yet, the people who know you’re… acquainted can be counted with one hand.

Humming aloud to get some time to think, you pull out another cardigan from the clothes rack. It’s a nice shade of deep navy blue, but the material feels itchy against your fingers so you immediately put it away.

“Well?” Caleb urges. He doesn’t seem to have any patience today.

“You don’t have to do that – I mean, how would I even introduce you?” you say with a sigh and only afterwards realize the loaded question you threw into existence.

Silence on the phone. You can almost hear Caleb swallow and the clothing store disappears around you as gravitation tilts, making you hang on to his every word.

“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”

Your breathing is suddenly very shallow and your throat feels dry.

Boyfriend.

“Yeah. I could do that,” you admit with poorly executed nonchalance.

Caleb definitely swallows.

“Do you… want to?”

“Want what?”

“Tell your colleagues about me?”

Yes, yes you do. Without any question or hesitation and heart full of whatever has grown between you and Caleb ever since your reunion. Not wanting to put pressure on him, you never suggested meeting your friends or colleagues. Just having him to yourself was enough; the world didn’t need to know. But lately, you’ve found yourself longing for something more that would come with a degree of exposure for the relationship.

“I… When you put it like that, there’s no reason not to,” you finally answer.

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb confirms in a sing-song voice. “There’s this pasta recipe I’ve been wanting to try out.”

Just like that, as if nothing happened.

Boyfriend.

The world’s axis has just tilted, sliding you to orbit that much closer to Caleb and your feet feel unstable. It’s a miracle the clothing racks aren’t sailing past you towards the new focal point of the universe – that currently resides at the Farspace Fleet’s HQ in Skyhaven.

“Pasta sounds great,” you hear yourself replying.

“I–” There is a rustling sound over the call that makes Caleb inhale sharply. “I gotta go, there’s another meeting starting soon, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure. Bye, Caleb.”

“Bye, pip-squeak!”

You grip the phone in your hand, staring stupidly at the dark screen. For all intents and purposes, it seems that you just managed to agree to have Caleb come over, cook, and be introduced as your boyfriend to Tara and Simone.

Clasping your lower lip between your teeth, you quickly write him a message and hit send before you have the chance to think it through.

Me: See you on Friday, boyfriend.

He responds almost instantly, as if he had been mirroring your posture of staring at the phone in his hand.

Caleb: its a date ;)

Because he was. Caleb also finds himself more bothered by your message than he thought he would be. So much that he barely registers the pain of hitting his elbow on the edge of the desk a moment ago. What exactly did he just push on to you? These Fleet budget meetings must have bored him into insanity. Just thinking about spending the evening in the domestic bliss of your apartment kitchen, chatting with you and your colleagues, and showing off his cooking skills makes him feel like he is floating and the feeling is more intense than the zero gravity simulator at the Academy ever was.

He just has to suffer through this week filled with budget reviews and Deepspace patrol update meetings. Then he can go back to Linkon, to you, to–

To do what? He doesn't really know.

“Colonel?”

Caleb’s head snaps up from the report on the holographic screen. In the last 15 minutes (of which most were spent on his phone instead), he has barely made any progress reading it. Turns out just staring at the letters does not automatically convey the information into his brain nor does chatting with you make him work more efficiently. Quite the contrary, really.

Caleb clears his throat and automatically checks his posture and expression.

“About the K67 incident…” Liam starts, waiting for the Colonel’s acknowledgement to continue the report.

Caleb puts the screen down and stands up, exuding every bit of authority he possesses. He has officially run out of patience for the day.

“Proceed as planned with the fallout. You’re authorized to make the necessary changes to the patrol rotations. I need to leave.”

Liam doesn’t even blink. “Yes, sir.”

Caleb nods to the other officers filing into the conference room on his way out. No one dares to try and stop him. Good.

As he walks down the corridor to his office, two thoughts chase around his head.

First, that meeting could have been an email from the start.

Second, he knows exactly what he would like to do to you the moment he gets his hands on you.

Boyfriend.

It’s been 52 weeks and four days since you hugged Caleb in the interrogation room at the Farspace Fleet airship. A vital eternity. It hasn’t been easy, especially getting used to this new dynamic between you, but Caleb has slowly come to realize there is room for something else now, something more.

The eternity ahead until Friday arrives is almost as long as the past 52 weeks and four days.

You let Tara and Simone know that you have a personal chef coming over, to cook dinner just for them. The news is received with excited intrigue, as expected, and you realize too late you shouldn’t have given them so many days to pester you about it. The word ‘boyfriend’ almost slips off your tongue three times.

“Who is it?” Tara mouths the words at you in the middle of mission debrief and Simone winks at you. Captain Jenna clears her throat and Tara bites her lips to hide a grin. You roll your eyes. Great.

When Friday afternoon finally arrives, you use up some of your extra hours to leave early and take care of grocery shopping based on the list sent by Caleb – plus buy dessert. When picking out the produce for the pasta sauce, Caleb’s professional tips on choosing the most fresh vegetables flash back into your mind and you must look like an idiot smiling at the tomatoes and grinning at the cilantro.

There are still several items left on the list and very precise instructions on what kind of meat to buy, when Caleb texts you to let you know that he is on his way from Skyhaven. The Coelum Express is fast, but not as fast as you when you finish shopping and head back home, fully ignoring the thumping in your chest. It’s normal to be excited whenever Caleb is coming over, right? Only this time something is different.

Boyfriend.

You’re almost done with a quick and nervous cleanup of the apartment when the key rustles in the lock and your breathing pauses for a moment. Excitement and elation swoop in with the next breath.

“Hellooo,” Caleb hoots from the front door and you skitter over to him.

And there he is. Your Caleb. With a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a smile across his face. He is wearing a casual black shirt and jeans. Summer is almost here so it’s warm enough without a jacket.

“Hey,” you greet Caleb, suddenly feeling overly conscious about the way you’re just standing in the middle of the room, wrangling your hands and looking at him.

“Hey,” Caleb replies, eyes softening. The duffle bag hits the floor.

What would you normally do?

Probably throw a cleaning rag at him and tell him to start by wiping the dust from the bookshelf.

Boyfriend.

“Everything set up for Operation Dinner Party?” Caleb asks, his eyes twinkling softly, and the awkwardness eases up a little.

You nod eagerly, clutching the lifeline the question offers. “Almost. I’ll just finish cleaning up the living room real quick. You can begin preparing the food, if you want.”

Caleb starts rolling up his sleeves. “Nah, the recipe doesn’t require that much preparation and there’s still plenty of time. I’ll help you out.”

He swings his wrist in an arc and you turn around to see the messy horde of plushies floating into a neat row. You’ve been just throwing them on the sofa when bringing home the newest prizes from the arcade.

You make yourself busy with emptying the coffee table and wiping dust. Caleb hovers around, routinely moving clutter to its place. You’ve noticed he has a system when cleaning and sometimes it’s both irritating and awe-inspiring. However, you can’t deny the efficiency since within minutes the living room looks presentable again.

“So. What’s the protocol for tonight?” Caleb asks as he folds the woolen blanket and places it neatly over the sofa back.

“Cook, dine, entertain,” you list as you attack the last bits of dust on the shelves.

He nods and continues in a sly voice: “Got it. And what’s our strategy, girlfriend?”

You know he is watching you, waiting to see the reaction blooming across your cheeks.

“Haven’t thought about that yet,” you reply coolly.

Caleb chuckles, seeing right through you as usual. “Liar.”

The low tone sends a sweet pulse across your spine and you swallow. Caleb’s eyes narrow with amusement and something else; He looks hungry, keenly waiting for your next move.

You throw the dusty rag at him and he easily catches it with his Evol.

“Stand by for your orders,” you quip and grin.

“Yessir!” Caleb’s whole demeanor relaxes with a low huff of laughter, but you have an inkling you’re not yet done with this particular topic. “But you should rest a little. You must be tired from the long week.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I’m okay. I’ll be energized when we start cooking and the girls get here.”

Caleb places a hand atop your head and pats it lightly. His warmth is so familiar and soothing. It’s the same motion he has done a thousand times, but this time it makes that sweet pressure coil and roll inside your chest. His hand slides down to your cheek and his thumb swipes gently over it before he pulls back. Your mouth opens to inhale but your lungs seem to have stopped cooperating.

“You sure? There’s still time for a short nap,” he murmurs, the galaxies in his eyes soft and swirling with affection.

How many times have you taken a nap in his arms? And Caleb has always been a good boy. Too good.

“Nah, I don’t want to risk feeling groggy,” you reply and swallow thickly.

“Okay,” he says with a light smile, “Maybe we should start prepping the food then.”

You manage a nod, take the dirty cleaning rag from him, and promptly disappear into the bathroom to rinse it. Alone, you realise how loudly your heart is thumping and each beat makes your head swim with a tender sensation.

Maybe it’s just you, but your Caleb feels different today. Maybe it’s because you agreed to step out of the boundaries of your established relationship. Even if it’s supposed to be only for simplifying the explanation to your friends. 

“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”

Or maybe, it’s because agreeing to those words was a permission and now you’re both on uncharted ground, figuring out the new rules for your relationship. The notion is heady and sweet, and it manages to make your heart race even faster.

“So what time are the ladies arriving?” Caleb asks as you come into the kitchen – as if nothing unusual is going on. He is already preparing the vegetables to be washed and something about the homey scene flicks the tender feeling up another notch. You don’t know how you will survive this dinner with Tara and Simone present.

“At seven, maybe a bit earlier,” you reply, glancing at the digital clock on the holoscreen window. Almost an hour to go.

“Plenty of time then,” Caleb hums in thought.

Soon you fall into a comfortable routine, watching Caleb peel and cut the onion and garlic. Your job, as always, is to set the table, so you reach for the plates from the upper cabinet next to him. Caleb flashes you a smile and focuses back on the vegetables. His black shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing his forearms, and you become distracted by how the muscles bunch and relax as he works. He holds the piece of onion carefully with his fingertips while operating the knife with the other hand. The motion is stern and precise; an inescapable process.

His shampoo smells faintly like the Asiatic apples he so loves. You absent-mindedly wonder what if he were to press your back against the counter, to hold you that tightly and kiss you like his life was depending on it as your fingers threaded into his soft hair.

“What’s up?” Caleb asks, pulling you from the reveries.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Reaching for the plates without watching what you’re doing, you fumble and a screech of ceramics signals that something is about to come flying into the destructive embrace of gravity.

By the time your eyes return to what you were supposed to be doing, two plates are suspended in mid-air.

“Careful, pip-squeak,” Caleb chuckles. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry,” you mumble and sheepishly pick up the plates, feeling how his eyes linger on you.

Caleb’s Evol always was really handy. His reflexes have only grown faster and you feel a smidge of embarrassment. A Hunter should be less clumsy. On the other hand, a Colonel should be less distracting when he cooks.

The clock ticks closer and closer to seven. Everything is set ready and you’re quite happy with how your place and the setup for the dinner looks. The food is stewing on the stove and the scent is divine, as expected. It was a good call to let Caleb cook, although it feels a bit like cheating since the last time you had dinner with your friends, Simone cooked herself. But she doesn’t have a boyfriend to do it for her. As far as you know.

“Pip-squeak?”

“Hm?”

Caleb leans on the counter next to you, a teasing brow arched in question as you look up from mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Have you thought about a strategy yet?”

Strategy. How do normal couples behave in the presence of their friends? Light touches? Longing gazes? Holding hands?

Kissing?

You swallow. There must be nothing normal about considering a military-grade acting strategy for a dinner with friends.

“I’m all ears,” Caleb whispers, suddenly so close to you. The scent of Asiatic apples mixes with the simmering pasta sauce and it must be your favourite scent in the universe.

You inhale shakily. You’re hyper-aware of Caleb’s body next to you, his forearms leaning on the counter so close that they almost brush yours.

“They should be here soon, sooo. Let’s play it by ear,” you finally manage to say and continue scrolling without actually looking at anything.

“By ear, huh?” Caleb murmurs. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch tickles and shivers course across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The warm pressure swells inside your chest.

“In that case… How do you feel about PDA?” he asks in a tone that could melt you.

“I guess I don’t have enough information to form an opinion,” you make a stupid, stupid reply.

Caleb hums, surprised. “Perhaps we could rectify that as part of our strategy?”

You turn your head, bewildered, and your eyes meet, and everything is paused. Caleb’s eyes are bright and filled with unvoiced mirth, but that’s not all there is. Hope, curiosity, concern. A yearning, intriguing mix of emotions that takes your breath away and blooms tender warmth.

Would Caleb suggest something like that if he didn’t mean it?

The doorbell rings but neither of you reacts. Your fingertips land on his chest – instantly feeling how his heartbeat is quickened – and look up just as he keeps his face tilted toward you.

Your Caleb would never tease you about this.

“We should open the door,” he murmurs with an undertone that makes it painfully clear he doesn’t really want to open the door.

“We really should,” you reply without moving a muscle.

Caleb’s eyes skip downward and your lips part in response. The heady warmth grows until your skipping heart is pushed to your throat. Neither of you moves and the doorbell rings again, accompanied by a series of sharp knocks.

Caleb sighs, lays a hand on your shoulder and leans down to place a kiss at the crown of your head. Heat blooms on your face, but he nonchalantly walks past you to the door. You need three full seconds to recover and scurry after him.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Tara shoots instantly after the introductions. Her eyes twinkle with excitement and you know she is going to have so many questions.

You groan, but Caleb just chuckles, undeterred and steadfast. He was mentally prepared for this. Him being sociable and easy-going by nature, you don’t need to discuss strategy to agree to let him handle this. Caleb always was the one to soak up the attention of other people and be the center of attention, voluntarily or otherwise. He is like the sun, wherever he goes, and you could never admit to being jealous, but you think he still knows: you’re jealous that you have to share him with other people.

“Can we please eat first and have the third degree later?” you whine and motion towards the set table.

“It smells amazing!” Simone notes and when Caleb’s attention turns to the stove, she winks at you. You roll your eyes in response.

The praising of Caleb’s cooking skills doesn’t stop once it starts. Trust him to make the perfect first impression. Secretly, you’re relieved, impressed, and slightly annoyed.

The meal progresses nicely; some discussion about work is had until Tara starts to groan, Caleb explains his job as vaguely as possible (“I’m a pilot and explore the Deepspace on routine patrols.”) and you share some memories together from before the reunion, implying that you happened to just go to the same school and live near each other. Simone complains about you hoarding all the handsome neighbors in Linkon City and you promise to let Doctor Zayne and Xavier know about the complaint. She doesn’t enjoy the joke, neither does Caleb, while Tara almost spits out her drink and wheezes.

When the huge bowl of pasta and sauce is almost gone, you don’t think you can eat anything ever again. Your pants feel tight and you really shouldn’t have had that last forkful. Pasta like this is a treat since Caleb usually prefers healthier dishes.

“Should we wait a bit before the dessert? I’m so full,” you propose with a chortle.

“Uff. Yes, please,” Simone says, patting her belly, and Tara nods eagerly.

“Well then, excuse me, ladies. I’m gonna go out for a bit,” Caleb says and looks at everyone with a placating smile.

“Oh you’re leaving?” Tara asks in a disappointed whine.

“I’ll give you ladies some girl time,” he chuckles, gets up and lands a meaningful gaze on you. “Do we need to get anything for the weekend if I stop by the store?” 

You shrug with one shoulder. “I think we’re good. Unless there’s something you want to buy?”

Tara and Simone look from Caleb to you as he takes his plate to the sink. Two very unnerving smiles spread on their lips. A sense of dread tingles through you. Without backup, there is a chance your defences might crumble before Tara and Simone’s assault of questions. What if you asked Caleb to stay anyway? Who needs girl time when there is a new boyfriend to introduce?

Caleb only smirks on his way to the door and waves a hand at your pleading eyes. 

Stupid Caleb.

The moment he steps outside, Tara and Simone are on you like N109 thugs on rumors about Aether Cores.

“Where did you meet?”

“Didn’t you say you’re just friends?”

“Does he do all the cooking for you?”

“He works for the DAA?”

“So is he a good kisser?”

You slap your hands to cover your ears and flee to the living room with maniac cackling snapping at your feet.

Somehow you survive the interrogation by offering minimal information. Tara and Simone chalk it up to your shyness about the fresh relationship and don’t give you too much of a hard time. They both eagerly subscribe to any news about you and Caleb. With a groan, you promise to keep them up to date, and successfully distract them with lemon sorbet as dessert.

Caleb takes his time returning and your friends are about to leave when keys jingle and rustle at the front door.

“It was great to meet you,” Caleb says with a bright smile that doesn’t falter one bit at the narrowed eyes you throw his way.

Tara and Simone are delighted and already planning a coffee date. You just nod, hoping they will give up. They won’t.

After final goodnights, the door clicks shut and you return to the kitchen. You fill the sink with almost scalding hot water and soon bubbles erupt all over the surface. Having packed the leftovers into the fridge, Caleb brings the last of the dirty dishes to the sink.

He settles to lean back on the counter next to you, ready to keep you company while you wash the dishes. It’s a comfortable routine: he cooks, you wash the dishes.

“Will you make this pasta again for me?” you ask absent-mindedly.

“Anytime you want, pip-squeak,” Caleb replies and you look up to see him inspecting you with an unreadable expression and a tilted head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just thinking,” he shrugs.

You want to say how nice it was to have him over with your friends here. How natural it felt. Standing at the top of the border surrounding your relationship, everything looked so blurry and distant. After taking the leap, you realize the ground is now stable underneath your feet and Caleb’s gravity is pulling you more strongly towards him than it ever has.

You had a year to sort out these feelings. If you don’t proclaim them soon, this tenderness is going to make you burst.

“What about?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“You said you were thinking.”

“How would you rate our teamwork?” Caleb asks and through the lilt of playfulness you can hear concern.

“One-hundred percent,” you reply instantly.

“Huh. And I haven’t even submitted my final report for review.”

You roll your eyes but sense him smiling too. 

“I think… We are good together,” you say and feel it in your gut how honest and pure the notion is. The tender warmth settles inside you like a favourite blanket. Something slows down to a heady pause and you become very aware of the warmth radiating from Caleb’s body right next to you. The water feels cool in comparison. His arms are no longer folded on his chest and he is fully facing you.

“I…” Caleb starts, but trails off, uncertain.

You turn to see his hand hovering in the air, tempted but hesitant to touch you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, barely getting the words out because your heart is lodged in your throat again and it’s struggling like a humming bird in a net.

“I want this to be real,” he confesses.

He leans down, slowly, breathing shallowly, and presses his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, just for a moment to enjoy the feeling of him this close. He does the same.

“Caleb, it is real.”

He inhales shakily. 

“Please,” he husks.

Your hands, still wet with suds running down your forearms, thread into his hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. Caleb lets out the most unarming low moan that is made of pure yearning and need finally fulfilled.

He pushes you against the counter and you feel the warm water stain your backside, sinking into your skin, followed by a sliver of coolness. His hands land on your neck and shoulder, fingers swiping back and forth to feel every bit of skin, to feel you. Your bodies press together, noses brush, and shaky, eager but unsure breaths mingle.

There are a thousand things you want to say, but none are coherent enough to be said when Caleb’s lips hover right above yours.

The few hesitant seconds are a sweet torture, then your lips finally meet. Two objects encountering at their barycenter. Although careful, there is no hesitation when the kiss happens. You enjoy every erratic and fluttering beat inside your chest, every light breath that smells like Asiatic apples, every point where Caleb’s hands touch your skin and his fingertips press their soft marks on you.

It’s the end of something that previously existed between you two. It’s the turning point, and the beginning of something wonderful and new, though not completely unfamiliar. A supernova that reverberated through the whole star system.

Just when the elements have been completely blown apart and rearranged, Caleb pulls back with a pleased, throaty hum.

You’re reluctant to let him go. Your lips tingle pleasantly as the heady air dissipates and a new sense of normalcy settles in.

“Girlfriend…” Caleb murmurs. Neither of you can remember the last time he sounded so happy.

The smile spreads wide over your cheeks too. Whatever wonderful happens going forward will require a new strategy, but it will be built together.

✈

Please go listen to Wonderful Nothing by Glass Animals. It was an inspiration while writing this.

[creative-frequency]

Caleb/Reader | Wonderful Nothing

Ever since you hugged Caleb at the Farspace Fleet starship’s interrogation room, you have tiptoed around each other and your feelings. It’s been almost a year, so isn’t it time to take the leap?

Your relationship with Caleb gets progressively more intimate and involved.

Summary: When Caleb promises to come over to cook for you and your colleagues, it requires setting up new rules for your relationship. The dinner is an opportunity to figure out what those rules are. First part of the series. From friends to lovers, first kiss. Word count: 4.6k ✈ PDA: public displays of affection ✈ Barycenter: The center of mass of two or more bodies that orbit one another and is the point about which the bodies orbit.

01 | Scrumptious

Caleb: waaait

Caleb: are you asking me to come over? ;)

You bite your lower lip as your thumbs hover over the screen. Of course you want him to come over, but will Tara and Simone consider it bothersome to have your… Caleb there when it kinda was supposed to be a girls’ night?

Your contemplation over a reply takes too long for Caleb’s patience and before you can hit even one letter, he calls you. You thought he was supposed to be at work having meetings all day.

“What’s up?” you answer.

The instant the first prolonged syllable leaves Caleb’s mouth, you can hear him smiling.

“Soo… You’d tell me if there was a reason I shouldn’t come down to Linkon next weekend, right?”

Caleb’s familiar, teasing tone makes warmth bloom in your soul and on your cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you groan and switch to cradling the phone between your other ear and palm. You pull out another creamy white cardigan from the rack and inspect it critically, tilting your head. Why do they all look the same?

“You don’t know?” Caleb laughs on the phone, the sound a safe haven from all the stupid thoughts in your head.

“I promised to cook for Tara and Simone. So. It’s a girls’ night. Maybe,” you add tentatively.

Caleb is silent for a while. “Mm. Okay.”

You sense the ‘but’ incoming and wait for him to continue. After scrutinizing the cardigan for a second longer, you sigh inwardly and put it away. Perhaps a bit too vanilla. White might also be too susceptible to stains.

“What if… I cooked for you all and then went out for a few hours so you can have your girl talk,” Caleb finally suggests.

You like the idea more than you care to admit. For the past year, Caleb has spent every weekend and your concurrent day off either in Linkon with you or you have traveled to Skyhaven to his place. And yet, the people who know you’re… acquainted can be counted with one hand.

Humming aloud to get some time to think, you pull out another cardigan from the clothes rack. It’s a nice shade of deep navy blue, but the material feels itchy against your fingers so you immediately put it away.

“Well?” Caleb urges. He doesn’t seem to have any patience today.

“You don’t have to do that – I mean, how would I even introduce you?” you say with a sigh and only afterwards realize the loaded question you threw into existence.

Silence on the phone. You can almost hear Caleb swallow and the clothing store disappears around you as gravitation tilts, making you hang on to his every word.

“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”

Your breathing is suddenly very shallow and your throat feels dry.

Boyfriend.

“Yeah. I could do that,” you admit with poorly executed nonchalance.

Caleb definitely swallows.

“Do you… want to?”

“Want what?”

“Tell your colleagues about me?”

Yes, yes you do. Without any question or hesitation and heart full of whatever has grown between you and Caleb ever since your reunion. Not wanting to put pressure on him, you never suggested meeting your friends or colleagues. Just having him to yourself was enough; the world didn’t need to know. But lately, you’ve found yourself longing for something more that would come with a degree of exposure for the relationship.

“I… When you put it like that, there’s no reason not to,” you finally answer.

“Then it’s settled,” Caleb confirms in a sing-song voice. “There’s this pasta recipe I’ve been wanting to try out.”

Just like that, as if nothing happened.

Boyfriend.

The world’s axis has just tilted, sliding you to orbit that much closer to Caleb and your feet feel unstable. It’s a miracle the clothing racks aren’t sailing past you towards the new focal point of the universe – that currently resides at the Farspace Fleet’s HQ in Skyhaven.

“Pasta sounds great,” you hear yourself replying.

“I–” There is a rustling sound over the call that makes Caleb inhale sharply. “I gotta go, there’s another meeting starting soon, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure. Bye, Caleb.”

“Bye, pip-squeak!”

You grip the phone in your hand, staring stupidly at the dark screen. For all intents and purposes, it seems that you just managed to agree to have Caleb come over, cook, and be introduced as your boyfriend to Tara and Simone.

Clasping your lower lip between your teeth, you quickly write him a message and hit send before you have the chance to think it through.

Me: See you on Friday, boyfriend.

He responds almost instantly, as if he had been mirroring your posture of staring at the phone in his hand.

Caleb: its a date ;)

Because he was. Caleb also finds himself more bothered by your message than he thought he would be. So much that he barely registers the pain of hitting his elbow on the edge of the desk a moment ago. What exactly did he just push on to you? These Fleet budget meetings must have bored him into insanity. Just thinking about spending the evening in the domestic bliss of your apartment kitchen, chatting with you and your colleagues, and showing off his cooking skills makes him feel like he is floating and the feeling is more intense than the zero gravity simulator at the Academy ever was.

He just has to suffer through this week filled with budget reviews and Deepspace patrol update meetings. Then he can go back to Linkon, to you, to–

To do what? He doesn't really know.

“Colonel?”

Caleb’s head snaps up from the report on the holographic screen. In the last 15 minutes (of which most were spent on his phone instead), he has barely made any progress reading it. Turns out just staring at the letters does not automatically convey the information into his brain nor does chatting with you make him work more efficiently. Quite the contrary, really.

Caleb clears his throat and automatically checks his posture and expression.

“About the K67 incident…” Liam starts, waiting for the Colonel’s acknowledgement to continue the report.

Caleb puts the screen down and stands up, exuding every bit of authority he possesses. He has officially run out of patience for the day.

“Proceed as planned with the fallout. You’re authorized to make the necessary changes to the patrol rotations. I need to leave.”

Liam doesn’t even blink. “Yes, sir.”

Caleb nods to the other officers filing into the conference room on his way out. No one dares to try and stop him. Good.

As he walks down the corridor to his office, two thoughts chase around his head.

First, that meeting could have been an email from the start.

Second, he knows exactly what he would like to do to you the moment he gets his hands on you.

Boyfriend.

It’s been 52 weeks and four days since you hugged Caleb in the interrogation room at the Farspace Fleet airship. A vital eternity. It hasn’t been easy, especially getting used to this new dynamic between you, but Caleb has slowly come to realize there is room for something else now, something more.

The eternity ahead until Friday arrives is almost as long as the past 52 weeks and four days.

You let Tara and Simone know that you have a personal chef coming over, to cook dinner just for them. The news is received with excited intrigue, as expected, and you realize too late you shouldn’t have given them so many days to pester you about it. The word ‘boyfriend’ almost slips off your tongue three times.

“Who is it?” Tara mouths the words at you in the middle of mission debrief and Simone winks at you. Captain Jenna clears her throat and Tara bites her lips to hide a grin. You roll your eyes. Great.

When Friday afternoon finally arrives, you use up some of your extra hours to leave early and take care of grocery shopping based on the list sent by Caleb – plus buy dessert. When picking out the produce for the pasta sauce, Caleb’s professional tips on choosing the most fresh vegetables flash back into your mind and you must look like an idiot smiling at the tomatoes and grinning at the cilantro.

There are still several items left on the list and very precise instructions on what kind of meat to buy, when Caleb texts you to let you know that he is on his way from Skyhaven. The Coelum Express is fast, but not as fast as you when you finish shopping and head back home, fully ignoring the thumping in your chest. It’s normal to be excited whenever Caleb is coming over, right? Only this time something is different.

Boyfriend.

You’re almost done with a quick and nervous cleanup of the apartment when the key rustles in the lock and your breathing pauses for a moment. Excitement and elation swoop in with the next breath.

“Hellooo,” Caleb hoots from the front door and you skitter over to him.

And there he is. Your Caleb. With a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a smile across his face. He is wearing a casual black shirt and jeans. Summer is almost here so it’s warm enough without a jacket.

“Hey,” you greet Caleb, suddenly feeling overly conscious about the way you’re just standing in the middle of the room, wrangling your hands and looking at him.

“Hey,” Caleb replies, eyes softening. The duffle bag hits the floor.

What would you normally do?

Probably throw a cleaning rag at him and tell him to start by wiping the dust from the bookshelf.

Boyfriend.

“Everything set up for Operation Dinner Party?” Caleb asks, his eyes twinkling softly, and the awkwardness eases up a little.

You nod eagerly, clutching the lifeline the question offers. “Almost. I’ll just finish cleaning up the living room real quick. You can begin preparing the food, if you want.”

Caleb starts rolling up his sleeves. “Nah, the recipe doesn’t require that much preparation and there’s still plenty of time. I’ll help you out.”

He swings his wrist in an arc and you turn around to see the messy horde of plushies floating into a neat row. You’ve been just throwing them on the sofa when bringing home the newest prizes from the arcade.

You make yourself busy with emptying the coffee table and wiping dust. Caleb hovers around, routinely moving clutter to its place. You’ve noticed he has a system when cleaning and sometimes it’s both irritating and awe-inspiring. However, you can’t deny the efficiency since within minutes the living room looks presentable again.

“So. What’s the protocol for tonight?” Caleb asks as he folds the woolen blanket and places it neatly over the sofa back.

“Cook, dine, entertain,” you list as you attack the last bits of dust on the shelves.

He nods and continues in a sly voice: “Got it. And what’s our strategy, girlfriend?”

You know he is watching you, waiting to see the reaction blooming across your cheeks.

“Haven’t thought about that yet,” you reply coolly.

Caleb chuckles, seeing right through you as usual. “Liar.”

The low tone sends a sweet pulse across your spine and you swallow. Caleb’s eyes narrow with amusement and something else; He looks hungry, keenly waiting for your next move.

You throw the dusty rag at him and he easily catches it with his Evol.

“Stand by for your orders,” you quip and grin.

“Yessir!” Caleb’s whole demeanor relaxes with a low huff of laughter, but you have an inkling you’re not yet done with this particular topic. “But you should rest a little. You must be tired from the long week.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I’m okay. I’ll be energized when we start cooking and the girls get here.”

Caleb places a hand atop your head and pats it lightly. His warmth is so familiar and soothing. It’s the same motion he has done a thousand times, but this time it makes that sweet pressure coil and roll inside your chest. His hand slides down to your cheek and his thumb swipes gently over it before he pulls back. Your mouth opens to inhale but your lungs seem to have stopped cooperating.

“You sure? There’s still time for a short nap,” he murmurs, the galaxies in his eyes soft and swirling with affection.

How many times have you taken a nap in his arms? And Caleb has always been a good boy. Too good.

“Nah, I don’t want to risk feeling groggy,” you reply and swallow thickly.

“Okay,” he says with a light smile, “Maybe we should start prepping the food then.”

You manage a nod, take the dirty cleaning rag from him, and promptly disappear into the bathroom to rinse it. Alone, you realise how loudly your heart is thumping and each beat makes your head swim with a tender sensation.

Maybe it’s just you, but your Caleb feels different today. Maybe it’s because you agreed to step out of the boundaries of your established relationship. Even if it’s supposed to be only for simplifying the explanation to your friends. 

“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”

Or maybe, it’s because agreeing to those words was a permission and now you’re both on uncharted ground, figuring out the new rules for your relationship. The notion is heady and sweet, and it manages to make your heart race even faster.

“So what time are the ladies arriving?” Caleb asks as you come into the kitchen – as if nothing unusual is going on. He is already preparing the vegetables to be washed and something about the homey scene flicks the tender feeling up another notch. You don’t know how you will survive this dinner with Tara and Simone present.

“At seven, maybe a bit earlier,” you reply, glancing at the digital clock on the holoscreen window. Almost an hour to go.

“Plenty of time then,” Caleb hums in thought.

Soon you fall into a comfortable routine, watching Caleb peel and cut the onion and garlic. Your job, as always, is to set the table, so you reach for the plates from the upper cabinet next to him. Caleb flashes you a smile and focuses back on the vegetables. His black shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing his forearms, and you become distracted by how the muscles bunch and relax as he works. He holds the piece of onion carefully with his fingertips while operating the knife with the other hand. The motion is stern and precise; an inescapable process.

His shampoo smells faintly like the Asiatic apples he so loves. You absent-mindedly wonder what if he were to press your back against the counter, to hold you that tightly and kiss you like his life was depending on it as your fingers threaded into his soft hair.

“What’s up?” Caleb asks, pulling you from the reveries.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Reaching for the plates without watching what you’re doing, you fumble and a screech of ceramics signals that something is about to come flying into the destructive embrace of gravity.

By the time your eyes return to what you were supposed to be doing, two plates are suspended in mid-air.

“Careful, pip-squeak,” Caleb chuckles. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry,” you mumble and sheepishly pick up the plates, feeling how his eyes linger on you.

Caleb’s Evol always was really handy. His reflexes have only grown faster and you feel a smidge of embarrassment. A Hunter should be less clumsy. On the other hand, a Colonel should be less distracting when he cooks.

The clock ticks closer and closer to seven. Everything is set ready and you’re quite happy with how your place and the setup for the dinner looks. The food is stewing on the stove and the scent is divine, as expected. It was a good call to let Caleb cook, although it feels a bit like cheating since the last time you had dinner with your friends, Simone cooked herself. But she doesn’t have a boyfriend to do it for her. As far as you know.

“Pip-squeak?”

“Hm?”

Caleb leans on the counter next to you, a teasing brow arched in question as you look up from mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Have you thought about a strategy yet?”

Strategy. How do normal couples behave in the presence of their friends? Light touches? Longing gazes? Holding hands?

Kissing?

You swallow. There must be nothing normal about considering a military-grade acting strategy for a dinner with friends.

“I’m all ears,” Caleb whispers, suddenly so close to you. The scent of Asiatic apples mixes with the simmering pasta sauce and it must be your favourite scent in the universe.

You inhale shakily. You’re hyper-aware of Caleb’s body next to you, his forearms leaning on the counter so close that they almost brush yours.

“They should be here soon, sooo. Let’s play it by ear,” you finally manage to say and continue scrolling without actually looking at anything.

“By ear, huh?” Caleb murmurs. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch tickles and shivers course across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The warm pressure swells inside your chest.

“In that case… How do you feel about PDA?” he asks in a tone that could melt you.

“I guess I don’t have enough information to form an opinion,” you make a stupid, stupid reply.

Caleb hums, surprised. “Perhaps we could rectify that as part of our strategy?”

You turn your head, bewildered, and your eyes meet, and everything is paused. Caleb’s eyes are bright and filled with unvoiced mirth, but that’s not all there is. Hope, curiosity, concern. A yearning, intriguing mix of emotions that takes your breath away and blooms tender warmth.

Would Caleb suggest something like that if he didn’t mean it?

The doorbell rings but neither of you reacts. Your fingertips land on his chest – instantly feeling how his heartbeat is quickened – and look up just as he keeps his face tilted toward you.

Your Caleb would never tease you about this.

“We should open the door,” he murmurs with an undertone that makes it painfully clear he doesn’t really want to open the door.

“We really should,” you reply without moving a muscle.

Caleb’s eyes skip downward and your lips part in response. The heady warmth grows until your skipping heart is pushed to your throat. Neither of you moves and the doorbell rings again, accompanied by a series of sharp knocks.

Caleb sighs, lays a hand on your shoulder and leans down to place a kiss at the crown of your head. Heat blooms on your face, but he nonchalantly walks past you to the door. You need three full seconds to recover and scurry after him.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Tara shoots instantly after the introductions. Her eyes twinkle with excitement and you know she is going to have so many questions.

You groan, but Caleb just chuckles, undeterred and steadfast. He was mentally prepared for this. Him being sociable and easy-going by nature, you don’t need to discuss strategy to agree to let him handle this. Caleb always was the one to soak up the attention of other people and be the center of attention, voluntarily or otherwise. He is like the sun, wherever he goes, and you could never admit to being jealous, but you think he still knows: you’re jealous that you have to share him with other people.

“Can we please eat first and have the third degree later?” you whine and motion towards the set table.

“It smells amazing!” Simone notes and when Caleb’s attention turns to the stove, she winks at you. You roll your eyes in response.

The praising of Caleb’s cooking skills doesn’t stop once it starts. Trust him to make the perfect first impression. Secretly, you’re relieved, impressed, and slightly annoyed.

The meal progresses nicely; some discussion about work is had until Tara starts to groan, Caleb explains his job as vaguely as possible (“I’m a pilot and explore the Deepspace on routine patrols.”) and you share some memories together from before the reunion, implying that you happened to just go to the same school and live near each other. Simone complains about you hoarding all the handsome neighbors in Linkon City and you promise to let Doctor Zayne and Xavier know about the complaint. She doesn’t enjoy the joke, neither does Caleb, while Tara almost spits out her drink and wheezes.

When the huge bowl of pasta and sauce is almost gone, you don’t think you can eat anything ever again. Your pants feel tight and you really shouldn’t have had that last forkful. Pasta like this is a treat since Caleb usually prefers healthier dishes.

“Should we wait a bit before the dessert? I’m so full,” you propose with a chortle.

“Uff. Yes, please,” Simone says, patting her belly, and Tara nods eagerly.

“Well then, excuse me, ladies. I’m gonna go out for a bit,” Caleb says and looks at everyone with a placating smile.

“Oh you’re leaving?” Tara asks in a disappointed whine.

“I’ll give you ladies some girl time,” he chuckles, gets up and lands a meaningful gaze on you. “Do we need to get anything for the weekend if I stop by the store?” 

You shrug with one shoulder. “I think we’re good. Unless there’s something you want to buy?”

Tara and Simone look from Caleb to you as he takes his plate to the sink. Two very unnerving smiles spread on their lips. A sense of dread tingles through you. Without backup, there is a chance your defences might crumble before Tara and Simone’s assault of questions. What if you asked Caleb to stay anyway? Who needs girl time when there is a new boyfriend to introduce?

Caleb only smirks on his way to the door and waves a hand at your pleading eyes. 

Stupid Caleb.

The moment he steps outside, Tara and Simone are on you like N109 thugs on rumors about Aether Cores.

“Where did you meet?”

“Didn’t you say you’re just friends?”

“Does he do all the cooking for you?”

“He works for the DAA?”

“So is he a good kisser?”

You slap your hands to cover your ears and flee to the living room with maniac cackling snapping at your feet.

Somehow you survive the interrogation by offering minimal information. Tara and Simone chalk it up to your shyness about the fresh relationship and don’t give you too much of a hard time. They both eagerly subscribe to any news about you and Caleb. With a groan, you promise to keep them up to date, and successfully distract them with lemon sorbet as dessert.

Caleb takes his time returning and your friends are about to leave when keys jingle and rustle at the front door.

“It was great to meet you,” Caleb says with a bright smile that doesn’t falter one bit at the narrowed eyes you throw his way.

Tara and Simone are delighted and already planning a coffee date. You just nod, hoping they will give up. They won’t.

After final goodnights, the door clicks shut and you return to the kitchen. You fill the sink with almost scalding hot water and soon bubbles erupt all over the surface. Having packed the leftovers into the fridge, Caleb brings the last of the dirty dishes to the sink.

He settles to lean back on the counter next to you, ready to keep you company while you wash the dishes. It’s a comfortable routine: he cooks, you wash the dishes.

“Will you make this pasta again for me?” you ask absent-mindedly.

“Anytime you want, pip-squeak,” Caleb replies and you look up to see him inspecting you with an unreadable expression and a tilted head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just thinking,” he shrugs.

You want to say how nice it was to have him over with your friends here. How natural it felt. Standing at the top of the border surrounding your relationship, everything looked so blurry and distant. After taking the leap, you realize the ground is now stable underneath your feet and Caleb’s gravity is pulling you more strongly towards him than it ever has.

You had a year to sort out these feelings. If you don’t proclaim them soon, this tenderness is going to make you burst.

“What about?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“You said you were thinking.”

“How would you rate our teamwork?” Caleb asks and through the lilt of playfulness you can hear concern.

“One-hundred percent,” you reply instantly.

“Huh. And I haven’t even submitted my final report for review.”

You roll your eyes but sense him smiling too. 

“I think… We are good together,” you say and feel it in your gut how honest and pure the notion is. The tender warmth settles inside you like a favourite blanket. Something slows down to a heady pause and you become very aware of the warmth radiating from Caleb’s body right next to you. The water feels cool in comparison. His arms are no longer folded on his chest and he is fully facing you.

“I…” Caleb starts, but trails off, uncertain.

You turn to see his hand hovering in the air, tempted but hesitant to touch you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, barely getting the words out because your heart is lodged in your throat again and it’s struggling like a humming bird in a net.

“I want this to be real,” he confesses.

He leans down, slowly, breathing shallowly, and presses his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, just for a moment to enjoy the feeling of him this close. He does the same.

“Caleb, it is real.”

He inhales shakily. 

“Please,” he husks.

Your hands, still wet with suds running down your forearms, thread into his hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. Caleb lets out the most unarming low moan that is made of pure yearning and need finally fulfilled.

He pushes you against the counter and you feel the warm water stain your backside, sinking into your skin, followed by a sliver of coolness. His hands land on your neck and shoulder, fingers swiping back and forth to feel every bit of skin, to feel you. Your bodies press together, noses brush, and shaky, eager but unsure breaths mingle.

There are a thousand things you want to say, but none are coherent enough to be said when Caleb’s lips hover right above yours.

The few hesitant seconds are a sweet torture, then your lips finally meet. Two objects encountering at their barycenter. Although careful, there is no hesitation when the kiss happens. You enjoy every erratic and fluttering beat inside your chest, every light breath that smells like Asiatic apples, every point where Caleb’s hands touch your skin and his fingertips press their soft marks on you.

It’s the end of something that previously existed between you two. It’s the turning point, and the beginning of something wonderful and new, though not completely unfamiliar. A supernova that reverberated through the whole star system.

Just when the elements have been completely blown apart and rearranged, Caleb pulls back with a pleased, throaty hum.

You’re reluctant to let him go. Your lips tingle pleasantly as the heady air dissipates and a new sense of normalcy settles in.

“Girlfriend…” Caleb murmurs. Neither of you can remember the last time he sounded so happy.

The smile spreads wide over your cheeks too. Whatever wonderful happens going forward will require a new strategy, but it will be built together.

✈

Please go listen to Wonderful Nothing by Glass Animals. It was an inspiration while writing this.

[creative-frequency]

LUCANIS WEEK 2025 PROMPTS

Lucanis' week will take place from Monday, August 25th to Sunday, August 31st! The hashtag for this event will be #lucanisweek2025.

If you'd like to participate, do check out our FAQ & Rules—our inbox is always open for additional questions!

Please use the hashtag when posting anything for the event. However, tagging us directly is the best way to ensure we're able to see your creations and reblog them!

Thank you to everyone who participated in the Lucanis prompt survey! There were a ton of truly wonderful ideas submitted, these prompts were chosen in hopes of encompassing as many of them as possible! We're so excited to see what you all create!

[creative-frequency]

Thanks, I hate it.

[creative-frequency]

Still the final round of editing to be done on Caleb/Reader and the second part of Party Time aka Inquisitor Cal Kestis/Technician Reader.

And I should probably try to post the next chapter of Diluc/Reader 🔥

Can't remember the last time I've had this much to post.

[creative-frequency]

There's 4.5k words of Caleb to edit and then I can finally post it.

[creative-frequency]

[creative-frequency]

[creative-frequency]

Finally his appearance matches his sparkling personality ❤️

Astarion and prompt 10? Pretty please?

Astarion x Reader: #10 “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

My first attempt at writing Astarion, I do hope I didn't completely butcher him. And I won't fall for that angst bait! This is a funny one! Hope you like it 🤍

It’s the middle of the night, and the streets of Baldur’s Gate are nearly barren. Nearly. The Flaming Fist still patrols the roads, their torches flickering in the mist, making them easy to spot from a distance. Drawing their attention to your little nighttime adventure would likely end with a lovely visit to jail—an experience you'd very much like to avoid.

While you stand watch—crouched behind a crooked gravestone, scanning the eerie shadows of the graveyard—Astarion is busy picking the rusted lock of an ancient crypt.

And this was all his idea.

Apparently, he'd heard some drunken noble earlier that day babbling about a family heirloom: a magical necklace buried with a distant relative that supposedly grants powerful enhancements. Whatever that means. Naturally, the pale elf had been intrigued. And obviously, he couldn’t go alone.

He needed someone to keep an eye out for the Fists. Someone expendable—you suspect—but also someone he likes looking at. 

The lock finally gives in, and the crypt door creaks open with a tired yawn. The two of you slip inside, after making sure no one is watching.

The crypt is filled with dust and darkness—untouched for years, possibly centuries. The air smells old and musty, and the silence hanging over you is thick and ominous.

Astarion helps you light a few torches along the walls so you can see more than just a pitch-black void. You've been in vaults and crypts before, and this is no different from your previous experiences: vases and urns line the edges of the chamber, but the spotlight falls on the sarcophagus itself—lying at the far end of the crypt, almost as if beckoning someone to loot it.

You brush your fingers over the cool lid of the sarcophagus, searching for signs of traps, but sense nothing. Neither does he.

“Now, what are you waiting for? Let’s open this one, dear.” He smiles mischievously, almost triumphantly, as the two of you push the lid off—revealing the remains of someone long dead.

Your eyes immediately land on the necklace still glinting around the skeleton’s neck. Astarion deftly unclasps it from the corpse—who, clearly, no longer needs it.

“My, isn’t it gorgeous?” he muses, eyes gleaming dangerously as he clasps it around his own neck. He turns to you with a playful smirk. “How do I look? Handsome, obviously, but—”

He’s suddenly cut off, coughing as he clears his throat. You arch a brow.

“Are you okay?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest.

“Funny, I think my skin is on fire—” he exhales, and then—his pale skin begins to shimmer like diamond dust under moonlight.

You try to bite back a chuckle and you fail. Miserably.

“My gods! I am a creature of the night, not some glittering wine bottle at a ball!” The shock—and sheer horror—in his voice is unmistakable.

“B-but you’re so radiant,” you manage, barely holding back the laughter bubbling up. Your lips twitch dangerously.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this!” he cries, tearing the necklace off. “That thing is cursed!” He tosses the necklace back into the open sarcophagus like it’s something unholy.

You’re wheezing from laughter, trying to catch your breath while he brushes off imaginary dust from his outfit. He scrunches up his nose in disgust and sighs dramatically.

“Honestly, you looked rather ravishing. Never thought a vampire could glimmer like that.”

His lips curl into a smug smile, finally enjoying the compliment. “Well… perhaps I did catch the light in all the right places.”

You inch closer, reaching up to help brush off that imaginary crypt dust from his shoulder. “Next time you want to sparkle like that, just ask for my attention. I give it for free.”

His grin deepens, and you catch a flash of those dangerously sharp vampire fangs.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s a dangerous offer. I tend to get… greedy.”

[creative-frequency]

I think he needs more roasting 😌

Clive & 43.? 👀

Clive Rosfield x Reader: #43 “Please, stop looking like you want to kill me.”

Brooding man in a coffee shop AU. Hope you like it 🖤

Afternoons feel relatively slow during the weekdays. Nektar’s Café draws in customers at a sluggish pace compared to the morning crowd—not to mention the lunch rush. All the daily work is done, and the café is already prepped for the next day, which gives you ample time to sit behind the counter and doodle chocobos and moogles on a napkin while occasionally standing up to brew coffee or warm up pastries.

The bell above the café door clinks cheerily as a customer steps inside, and you lift your head to see who it is this time. You have plenty of regulars—some you're even on a first-name basis with.

And this one is definitely a regular. Just… not one you know well, because—well—he isn’t the talkative type, even when you’ve used your best customer service lines on him. He’s like an approaching storm; sulking, gloomy, and all brooding silence. His dark hair certainly doesn’t help the image.

He scans the café, and for a moment, you catch the way he squints in quiet disappointment when he sees the table he always sits at is already occupied by a lovey-dovey couple. They’re even taking selfies with their cake slices and iced lattes.

You have to bite your lower lip to keep from grinning.

He walks up to the counter, offering only a curt nod, but you can already see the frown forming on his face. You’re one step ahead of him, though—already prepping to brew something special. He doesn’t order. He never does. Getting him to speak more than a sentence is like trying to reason with a mossy rock. Besides, he always drinks what you give him, and never complains.

“Let me guess,” you begin with a wink, determined to shine some light into his sullen little world. “Flat white with a dash of annoyance?”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes stay fixed on the table that was “stolen” from him.

“Maybe with a sprinkle of cinnamon and judgment? That one’s pretty popular today.”

You spot the tiniest twitch at the corner of his eye as he turns his gaze to you—but still no words.

“Or how about the day’s special: triple espresso with seething rage?”

His voice, when it comes, is rough and low. “You done?”

You jump slightly, startled by the sudden reply. Heart thudding, you finish prepping his drink. You pour it into a takeaway cup and doodle a thundering cloud with a pout on the lid.

“I call it the Brooding Blend.” You fight the smirk threatening your poker face.

As he pays, his eyes flick back and forth between you and the occupied table.

“They’re in my seat,” he mutters, clearly frustrated.

You glance at the couple—clearly lost in their own little love bubble. “Well, as far as I’m aware, that table isn’t actually yours…”

He squints at you. “Yes, but I sit there every time.”

You plop back into the chair behind the counter. “Oh, I know. And you glare at anyone who takes it like you’re about to burn them into cinders.”

He turns his brilliant blue eyes on you, and the intensity of it makes heat prickle at the back of your neck. There’s a long beat of silence, and it would almost be funny if he didn’t look quite so intimidating.

You clear your throat. “Please, stop looking like you want to kill me.”

Something flickers in his gaze. For half a second, you could swear you see the twitch of a smile. Then, he lets out a small sound—somewhere between a cough and a laugh. It's low, rough, like he doesn’t quite remember how to do it properly.

He picks up the coffee, and you realize you're holding your breath.

Would this be the day he finally tells you it’s not what he wanted?

“The cloud with a pout was a nice touch.”

He turns and heads for the second-best table. But you’re frozen, stunned.

That was the nicest thing he’s ever said.

You exhale, but let yourself smile—absentmindedly doodling a little pouting cloud with tiny hearts above it on a new napkin. And across the café, at a very different, slightly wonky table, so does he.

[creative-frequency]

WIP Wednesday! Cooking some Caleb 🔥✈

“You don’t have to do that – I mean, how would I even introduce you?” you say with a sigh and only afterwards realize the loaded question you threw into existence.

Silence on the phone. You can almost hear Caleb swallow and the clothing store disappears around you as gravitation tilts, making you hang on to his every word.

“You could always just tell them I’m your boyfriend.”

Your breathing is suddenly very shallow and your throat feels dry.

Boyfriend.

“Yeah. I could do that,” you admit with poorly executed nonchalance.

Caleb definitely swallows.

“Do you… want to?”

“Want what?”

“Tell your colleagues about me?”

Yes, yes you do. Without any question or hesitation and heart full of whatever has grown between you and Caleb ever since your reunion. Not wanting to put pressure on him, you never suggested meeting your friends or colleagues. Just having him to yourself was enough; the world didn’t need to know. But lately, you’ve found yourself longing for something more that would come with a degree of exposure for the relationship.

“I… When you put it like that, there’s no reason not to,” you finally answer.

[creative-frequency]

Wine, Grapes and Fire

Diluc Ragnvindr x Fem!Reader

→ A/N: 1.5k words, visionless reader, slow-ish burn, from strangers to friends to lovers. Kaeya is being nosy. Vol. 1 here.

Vol. 2 Friend or Foe: The Cavalry Captain

Monday’s winds begin to rise, Clouds go dancing in the skies. Hold on tight and don’t be late, A brand-new week — won’t it be great? — A verse from a popular nursery rhyme in Mondstadt

Life is good in Mondstadt. The bed is so comfy you don't want to get up, but the hustle and bustle of the market street outside gradually gets louder. You won’t have to open the tavern until midday, so you have a little time in your hands to make a few rounds about the city. You eventually make your way to the street level through the balcony door and down a narrow wooden staircase. How convenient that the room has its own front door despite being on the second floor.

On your late breakfast at the Good Hunter, a restaurant by the market square, some Mondstadters from the previous night stop by to greet you. Mostly, they’re just curious about a newcomer, but in the case of Cavalry Captain Kaeya, well, one could call him almost nosy.

“Say, have we met before?” the shrewd and all-round charming knight of Favonius inquires after introductions and settles down to sit opposite you. Sans invitation.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” you say after swallowing a mouthful of fried eggs.

“Well then, welcome to Mondstadt.” Kaeya leans his chin on his palm, one cold blue eye studying you. The other one is covered by a patch and you try not to stare.

“Thank you.”

“What do you plan to do during your visit?” he asks unceremoniously.

You sigh and tell him the whole story. For some reason, it ends with Kaeya laughing.

“I don’t know why you think my misfortune is funny, but I’m glad to amuse you,” you say, frowning. Your plate is empty and you would like to leave but can’t think of a polite way to say this.

“Diluc is fortunate to have you,” Kaeya says in a mysterious tone and doesn’t respond to your questioning look.

“Indeed he is. But as I was saying, I’d better get going so I’ll have time to prepare before opening the tavern… Perhaps you’ll visit me there after your work is done?” you suggest, trying to imply that surely the Cavalry Captain should be working as well.

“Thanks for the invite”, Kaeya beams and stands up with you, “I’ll see you later then!”

And just like that, Cavalry Captain Kaeya is gone and you feel like you just walked into an invisible trap. But, a few hours into your shift, he saunters into Angel’s Share, sits by the counter right in front of you and orders a glass of Dandelion Wine.

There aren’t many other patrons present, so Kaeya takes the chance to chat you up.

“So, tell me. What are your thoughts on Mondstadt? Seen anything interesting?” he questions casually.

For some reason the way he puts weight on the last word makes you feel uneasy.

“Can’t say I have,” you reply slowly, focused on polishing the glass in your hand. “But from what I’ve seen, Mondstadt is a beautiful, lively city.”

Kaeya hums and sips his wine, gaze gauging your expression. “Do you close the tavern on your own at night?”

You frown at the weird question.

“It’s part of the job.” You switch to another glass to polish and look up to see Kaeya still scanning you. “Is something the matter?”

He places his wine glass on the counter and smiles. “Nothing. After all, we have our mysterious protector to keep the citizens safe during the night.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, gradually realising it should just be your standard response to whatever Kaeya lets out of his mouth.

“So you haven’t seen him?” He leans an elbow on the counter and rests his chin at the heel of his palm. “A pity, though, I wish you won’t need his services,” he says casually and sips his wine again.

“Services as in… being in need of saving in the middle of the night as I close up shop?” you retort, mentally tracing back on what he just said. Coming from Kaeya, this vigilante sounds like an urban legend he uses to scare travellers into forgetting any malicious intentions.

“Something like that.” Kaeya smiles, delighted that you caught wind of his implications.

You scoff and reach for the third glass. “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, Miss,” Kaeya smirks and toasts towards you with his half-empty wine glass.

“Who is this mystery person, then?” you ask with mild curiosity. 

“The Darknight Hero? Who knows?” Kaeya replies and you finally understand that this is what he actually wanted to discuss with you tonight. You don’t know the Cavalry Captain at all, but you do know that he must be after something. Why else would he be at the tavern right after work (or during?), chatting with the new stand-in bartender about a local vigilante.

On second thought, you imagine the Knights of Favonius are not thrilled by the idea of a self-acclaimed hero going around the city doing their jobs, so maybe instead of trying to scare travelers into behaving, Kaeya has another ulterior motive.

“Alright. You’ll be the first to know if I get saved by this Darknight Hero,” you say with a huff of a laugh.

“Much appreciated,” Kaeya says. He gulps down the last of his wine and stands up. “I must take my leave now. Have a good night, Miss.”

“Thank you and come again,” you reply, acutely sure that you don’t want to see him again anytime soon.

Kaeya is almost at the door, when Diluc walks in. You perk up, trying to look hardworking and busy even though there haven’t been any new customers or drink orders after Kaeya.

“Good day, Master Diluc,” Kaeya greets the tavern owner with a wave and a smile that can’t be described as anything else than one meant to annoy Diluc. Kaeya doesn’t receive a reply, though he probably isn’t even expecting one.

Diluc tosses a glare after Kaeya’s retreating back and you feel like it was not meant for you to see.

“Was he bothering you?” Diluc asks in a low voice as soon as he reaches the counter.

You shake your head. “Not at all. He was just asking about some nighttime hero going around the city. Apparently I look like a potential damsel in distress,” you say with an eye roll and a smirk, waiting for Diluc to laugh or even huff or something. Instead, his brows scrunch together and he looks worried.

“Do you feel unsafe about closing up the tavern for the night? I must apologise, I didn’t ever think–”

“It’s fine!” you hurry to say. “He probably just thinks I might see something since I’ll be working late.”

“I see.” Diluc doesn’t look convinced and you fear he might try to persuade you to give up on the job.

“I already told the Cavalry Captain that I can take care of myself,” you say, squaring your shoulders.

Diluc eyes you but doesn’t comment on the claim.

The last group of customers gets up to leave a few hours before closing time and you wave them off with smiles. Figures that a weekday evening wouldn’t be busy at the tavern.

“Let’s close up for the night. I’ll help you clean, so you can go rest,” Diluc says and before he can reach for the cleaning cloth, you snatch it.

“No! I mean, it’s fine. It’s my job anyways and I’m not tired at all yet.”

Where will you go if Diluc insists on helping you close up and stays until you need to leave? Or Archons forbid, offers to walk you home? You haven’t exactly told him you’re planning on sleeping at Angel’s Share for the second night.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course. I like tidying the place alone before leaving, it’s relaxing actually.” What a load of crap you’re spilling right at your boss’ face, but he seems to buy it.

Diluc examines you for a few moments, then nods.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Alright, I’ll leave soon, too. Goodnight,” you lie through your teeth.

“Goodnight.”

A deep sigh lets loose from your lips as soon as the tavern door closes after Diluc.

You got rid of your boss relatively easily this time, but some other night you might not be so lucky. You let out another long sigh. He is a perfect stranger, even if he pays your salary. You feel bad but can’t help it. Every piece of Mora you can save from spending into bare necessities like accommodations, is a Mora saved towards your travelling budget and sword repairs.

The empty glasses still need to be collected and washed until you can lock up and climb upstairs. Because of Diluc’s offhanded worry, you decide to bring one of the kitchen knives upstairs. Just for self-defence. You never believe you might actually need it.

—

→ Vol. 3 Secret Identity Revealed - Coming soon!

[creative-frequency]

[creative-frequency]

Ngl I would never be able to focus on reading if this man was anywhere near 🥵 would I mind though? Nope 😌

Can I please have Alhaitham and number 33 💚 kek

Alhaitham x Reader: #33 “Can you please stop thinking so loud?”

Here's your piece of a feeble scholar ❤️

There’s a bookstore in Port Ormos that’s rather hard to find, but once you do, it’s a true treasure trove for anyone who enjoys browsing a wide variety of books. There are scientific texts favored by scholars, murder mysteries filled with subtle clues for keen readers, and—most importantly—your favorite section: romance.

Spice or fluff? The store has it all—even a few Inazuman light novels with wild, otherworldly settings.

You visit frequently, sipping local coffee while checking out the newest titles. Sometimes you skim through a few chapters to get a better sense of a book, and sometimes you simply sit and write in your journal, soaking in the cozy, paper-scented atmosphere. The store owner doesn’t mind, as long as there are no coffee spills on the books.

And you’re certainly not the only one who does this.

One man, in particular, has caught your attention during your visits. He always sits in the quietest corner, reading something that looks either impossibly dense or completely foreign to you. He wears headphones, rarely looks up, and seems far too absorbed in his books to notice anything—or anyone—around him.

This time is no different. He's already there, sitting in his usual chair, reading a book filled with odd symbols and letters, his expression unreadable. You wonder if he struggles at all—reading in weird languages, that is.

You pull a new book from the romance shelf and sit down in a nearby empty chair. You've been waiting for this one for a while now, and you know you're going to buy it. But first, you want to enjoy the peace and quiet of the bookstore for a moment.

As soon as you begin reading, the book hits you with an unexpected twist—and you gasp. You shift in your seat, furrowing your brows as you flip a few pages ahead.

No, the main character cannot possibly do that—

You grip the armrest, reading faster now. Your breath hitches as your eyes fly over each line like you're about to devour the entire book.

What about the love interest?! She can't possibly do that if they're supposed to—

“Can you please stop thinking so loud?”

You blink, snapping your head up from the book. The man with the headphones has looked up just long enough to glance your way, then returns to the text in his hands as if nothing happened.

“I wasn’t thinking, I was—”

“Exactly.”

He replies without missing a beat, like even glancing in your direction took more effort than it was worth.

You close your mouth, speechless, a sudden spike of heat blooming across your cheeks. Silence falls—true silence this time. You hadn't even realized you'd been muttering out loud.

The book’s plot beckons, and you try to return to it. You’ll read at least the first chapter, then buy it.

But your focus is already slipping. More often than appropriate, your gaze drifts to the silver-haired man with the unreadable book, and you find yourself rereading the same lines again. And again.

“If you’re going to keep thinking that loudly,” he says at last, the edge of vexation still coating his words, “you might as well come sit closer—so I don’t have to pretend I’m ignoring you.”

Your heart skips a beat and you hesitate.

But then he lifts his gaze—sharp, emerald, and entirely serious—and your breath catches. He won’t repeat himself.

You grab your book and rise to your feet.

Then, quietly, you slide into the chair next to his. Neither of you speak, but the tension between you hangs like a curtain drawn tight. You reopen your book, trying to pick up where you left off—but your focus refuses to settle.

Not when he’s this close. Not when you can see him more clearly now, catching details in the curve of his brow, the flick of his eyes over the page.

The book slips lower into your lap, forgotten.

Then, he glances at you.

“You’re distracting.”

But he doesn’t sound annoyed; It almost sounds like… an admission.

[creative-frequency]

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Party Time

Word count: 2k Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Female Reader, who is an Imperial Technician on Nur. Summary: Going to a nightclub with an Imperial Inquisitor isn't what you expected. Rated E for mature content, mostly just kissing in this part. Part 1 of 2.

✨ Previous Part // This is the 4th part of the series. ✨ My Writing Masterlist

The comlink on your wrist buzzes and your pulse hits the ceiling so quickly that it feels as if you hit your head.

Finally.

“Y-yes?” Your voice wavers so lamely that you drag a palm across your face. You knew he was going to comm you after what happened earlier, so you were supposed to be mentally prepared for this call.

An extremely confused military officer of the Empire came by your door, holding a box. She handed it over to you and proceeded to explain the current Iseno sector fashion and the colour choice and why it’s important that you wear no jewellery. As if you knew what she was going on about. You blinked through the one-sided conversation, nodding and trying to hold a neutral face and the suspiciously light box you received from her. Before leaving, she swore that she would mention no word of this to anyone as per Inquisitor Kestis’ request.

“Hey. Got a minute?” Cal sounds as obstinately cheerful as ever and it settles your heart racing in a different tone from the peak of anxiety. It’s been three days since you ran from his quarters in less clothes than an average wookiee normally wears and you’ve only passed each other once in the hallway after that. The salacious look he shot you almost gave you a heart attack.

“I assume this is about that dress?” you ask and wait with a bated breath.

“Yeah. You got it then? Good. Thought I’d explain,” Cal says.

“I would appreciate that…” you reply slowly and take the silky fabric into your free hand. It feels cool as it flows over your fingers back into a silvery bundle.

“I need you to come with me somewhere.”

//

The dress fits you like a glove and it’s the fanciest thing you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. Getting out of Nur, even if it’s only for a little bit, feels like finally being able to breathe. Denon wouldn’t have been your first choice for a break but you have no grounds to complain.

“You look good,” Cal says casually. He goaded you into taking his arm, but touching him feels weird. It would be easier to face Darth Vader head on in a fight than act natural in the situation.

“Yeah. It’s the dress,” you reply after glancing down once again. The silvery hem flows down your frame and the fabric is so smooth and flimsy that it feels like you’re wearing no clothes at all. That feeling doesn’t exactly add to making you comfortable.

Cal scoffs and chuckles. “What would you have worn then?”

“Well, I literally don’t have any other clothes besides the uniform.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thanks,” you mumble at the floor.

Cal leans his ear towards you and grins. “What’s that?”

You really want to stick your tongue out at him but you’re the next in line and the Lasat guard by the door is already shooting heavily measuring looks your way. You try to look like going freaking clubbing is the most natural way to spend an evening. It’s not easy to forget that you’re in the company of an Imperial Inquisitor. Even if he looks as adorable as a puppy in the black casual clothing.

Fortunately Cal lets the chance to tease you go and you just continue jittering as unnoticeably nervously as you’re able to – until you finally get to walk inside and forget everything else. Whatever your expectations were, you could’ve never imagined the nightclub without actually seeing it.

First of all, the place is so full that it’s a miracle you even got in. Cal probably used his Inquisitor mind tricks or his status for a way in. You don’t want to know which. Secondly, your outfit doesn’t stand out at all. You blend in perfectly with every other patron wagging their asses on the dance floor in skimpy clothing. Thirdly and most obviously, you’ve never been to a nightclub before so it would’ve been hard to imagine typical club behavior and interior without even understanding the concept.

Cal lightly squeezes your arm to claim your attention from the dazzling people on the dance floor.

“Let’s get something to drink,” he says right into your ear to be heard over the loud music. Feeling his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear shoots a tingle up your spine.

You seek out Cal’s gaze to find him smiling rather impishly – he seems to be enjoying himself, possibly because of the atmosphere or the suffering that’s evident on your features. Nevertheless, you nod and steel your grip on his arm.

You have no clue what the drink Cal ordered for you contains, besides a red glow stick. His own drink seems to be clear as water and so your suspicions about the nightclub trip’s true purpose grow tenfold.

“So, will you tell me now why we’re here?” As you lean to say this to Cal’s ear, strands of his hair touch your nose and you realise just how good he smells. The memory of his lips on yours surfaces. Your heart rate speeds up.

Cal only smiles as a reply and pulls you with him, hand nonchalantly circling around your waist. You follow without objections, busy trying to hide the fluster growing over your cheeks.

As you look around in awe, Cal’s senses are sharpened and trained on the people partying around you. His eyes skim every patron inside the nightclub, looking for signs that would raise suspicions. He needs to be extremely careful not to touch anything. As long as his hands are busy on you, the danger is easily avoided. Not that he would reveal anything, but you can sense that something isn’t right with his behaviour. Maybe it’s just the “Inquisitor at work” attitude but there is something more. He is trying too much to appear casual.

Cal asked you to try to enjoy yourself, but it’s impossible.

Before you realise you were not just prancing around aimlessly, he has led you to the dance floor.

“Put your hands here,” Cal says right into your ear and places your hands on his waist.

“Oh, no way, I–”

He is persistent and flashes you a smile that melts any resolve you might have gathered to object to what’s about to happen.

With each passing beat of music and awkward sway of your hips you feel more self-conscious. It would be worse if Cal would even glance at your direction but his gaze is fixated on something behind your back.

You turn to look over your shoulder and jolt.

“Cal? We’ll bump right into–”

It’s too late. Cal is already apologising to the Zabrak patron with a plastic smile on his face. Something isn’t adding up but you decide to play along and smile as apologetically as you can while grabbing his arm to continue dancing.

Cal shoots a relieved look towards you and nods to your left, to the opposite direction of the mean-looking Zabrak.

You have no idea what is going on, but you get the sense that the night’s objective and reason for coming to the nightclub has been achieved. Your every sense is sharpened as Cal drags you to the back of the club to a more secluded area. The hallway is empty and the music volume is low enough to allow normal conversing tone to be heard.

“Cal?” you question hesitantly.

Cal looks uncharacteristically anxious for an Inquisitor. He holds a small pouch in his hand, looking left and right before pouring the contents onto his open palm.

It’s a small, blue crystal – that much you can see before Cal’s hand suddenly spasms. The crystal falls from between his fingers and your first not-so-wise instinct is to pick it up. Against all expectations, nothing happens as you touch it. It just feels warm.

When you look back up, Cal’s whole body jerks and he starts to lean heavily on the wall and slide down.

“W-wha– Are you okay? Cal?” You grip his shoulders to stop him from falling face down onto the floor. He isn’t responding.

Cal collapses into your arms and the leftover colour drains from your face.

“Cal? Cal? What’s wrong?” You frantically seek eye contact. “Tell me what happened!”

He struggles to find words. His body is limp and beads of sweat dot his forehead as you sink to the floor under his weight and push him to lean against the wall.

You look fervently around to seek for help, but Cal grabs your arm and hisses: “Quiet.”

He is pale, eyes glassy and unfocused. His hand befalls over yours, the one holding the blue crystal.  It’s hot in the club but his skin feels clammy and cold. He seems to be regaining his composure, albeit slowly.

“This isn’t just a pleasure trip, right?” you ask in a grim tone.

Cal finally looks at you with empty eyes. His head makes a miniscule shake as if the motion causes him nausea.

“Are we in danger?” you ask with a bated breath.

“I wouldn’t have brought you along if we were,” he says dismissively, still looking weak and nauseated. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead.

You huff in utter disbelief, the true nature of the outing gradually dawning on you. “That’s kind of you. We should probably go now. If you can stand..?” Your eyes skim over the Inquisitor’s rather lithe frame on the floor.

“Y-yeah,” Cal nods, “Just– just gimme a moment.”

You were about to stand up already but settle back down. He is still holding your hand, tightly. As you look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you, Cal’s fingers suddenly touch your cheek and he is much closer than just a second ago.

“I’m glad you came along,” he says in a husky tone.

You blink. “W-what are you saying?”

Cal doesn’t give you a reply but you don’t stop him from pressing his mouth on yours. The moment your lips touch you realise how your heart rate speeds up with anticipation. He has been touching respectably all over your body during the evening and each touch has only added to the tension, waiting when it would finally cross the line. And it’s a semi-public space, no less.

It starts out as a gentle feeling out of each other’s lips. Slowly, Cal stands up, pulling your mouth with him and conveniently tugs you flush to him from the waist – only to turn you both around and push you against the wall he was just leaning on. You sigh into the kiss, still clutching the crystal in your fist. Cal seems to have forgotten about it as his hands rest on your hip and cheek, tongue inviting you into deepening the kiss. And you can’t wait to oblige and give him something else to think about, because that is what this desperation reeks of.

Cal’s hip and thigh press against you, and his knee pushes between your legs. At the pleasant wave of friction you hum into his mouth and your fingers curl into his soft, ginger hair. You no longer need air. You just need him. Closer. Deeper. More.

Cal’s hand circles from your hip to your back, grabbing your ass and he suddenly hoists you up, inviting your leg to hook around him from the slit of your dress. The proximity leaves little to imagination and heat sinks its tendrils deeper into you, tingling and desperate to have more. To have him.

“Hey! Take it elsewhere!”

The shout almost drowns in the euphoria of your tangled bodies, but Cal stirs only a little while you freeze. With all the time in the world, he kisses you deeply one last time.

You wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of the Lasat porter, who has to face the Imperial Inquisitor’s stare.

“We are leaving,” Cal manages to spit out. He takes your hand and drags you out of the nightclub. Somehow you’re not sad to see your evening cut short as you struggle to catch your breath.

Cal’s demeanour is as silent and hasty as your trip back to the Imperial shuttle. He doesn’t say a word, only gripping your hand in his so hard that twice you almost open your mouth to ask him to ease the vice a little.

//

→ PART 2 - Coming soon!

[creative-frequency]

I am too tired and I miss you too much.

Simone de Beauvoir (via quotemadness)

[creative-frequency]

Wine, Grapes and Fire

Diluc Ragnvindr x Fem!Reader

→ A/N: 1.6k words, visionless reader, slow-ish burn, from strangers to friends to lovers, rating eventually up to M aka me again writing 10k before the actual "plot" smh

Vol. 1 You’re Hired!

Sunday’s here, the skies are bright, Lord Barbatos sends the winds in flight. Soft and gentle, breezes play, Bringing joy to start our day. — A verse from a popular nursery rhyme in Mondstadt

The Blacksmith scratches his beard in thought.

“Fifty-thousand and it’ll be better than new.”

Your jaw drops. Fifty-thousand Mora. After surviving the road to Mondstadt with almost nothing but the clothes on your back, the sum is astronomical.

“That’s just too much,” you whine.

Wagner folds his arms over his broad chest. “If you bring me the ores needed, it’ll go down to thirty.”

“And how am I supposed to go out there to gather some without a weapon?” you snap, upset. Your loyal companion lies on the table, snapped in half and then some.

The Blacksmith shrugs. It’s not his fault your sword is broken, but it’s hard not to launch your frustration on him.

“What should I do?” you utter, not actually looking for an answer. Will this be the end of your travels? Despite having seen so much, it feels like you have only just begun the journey. You’ll have to return to your family in Sumeru with your tail between your legs. A shame you’ll never live out.

The smith’s apprentice steps closer and clears his throat to get your attention.

“I think The Angel’s Share was looking for help. You could try asking for work there,” he says.

“Work? What kind of work? What’s Angel’s Share?” you question with wide eyes.

“Ah, it’s a tavern on the other side of the city,” the apprentice explains and shrugs. “Or you could always buy a new sword?”

You give the first suggestion a good two seconds of thought, promptly ignoring the second, unbelievably stupid suggestion. You will never give up on that sword, not if you can help it.

“Alright, thanks for the tip. Blacksmith, please take care of my blade. I’ll return for it when I have the Mora,” you say perhaps a tad too boastfully since Wagner rolls his eyes.

“Very well then, Miss. Fifty thousand, remember.”

After a wistful glance back at the broken weapon and asking for directions from two passerbys, you find yourself in front of the Angel’s Share. It seems like a clean, cosy place, which is a relief. You don’t feel like being accosted by drunkards in a slummy watering hole.

There indeed is a poster next to the door:

Help wanted! Ask Charles for details.

After mentally psyching yourself up, you step inside.

It becomes very quickly very apparent that your appearance is welcomed like a blessing from the Anemo Archon himself. Charles needs a few weeks off because of family reasons and he doesn't have anyone to cover the bar while he is gone. Every potential employee is either sick, working elsewhere or otherwise occupied. And Charles has to leave on the following day.

“I have experience tending a bar,” you assure him.

Which, mostly, is true. Technically, you have experience in customer service, mixing potions and drinks, and cleaning your parents’ flower shop. The odd jobs you have done during your travels also include working at a restaurant in Liyue. So close enough for bartending. Not to brag, but you’re even in the possession of the most charming customer-service oriented smile on Teyvat. It’s a family trait.

“Splendid!” Charles rejoices after you recount your work history to him.

“Before we shake hands on this, what’s the pay for two weeks?” you ask, nervous if you can ever get your sword back.

“I believe Master Diluc said two-hundred and fifty-thousand Mora,” he replies.

Two-hundred and fifty-thousand Mora. Your head is spinning. Such a sum could easily pay for the repairs and provide an ample amount of cash for your next adventures. Maybe you should’ve become a bartender instead.

“Is that okay with you?” Charles inquires.

“Yes! That’s, umm. Totally fair compensation. You can rest easy, I’ll take good care of this place for the next two weeks,” you perk up.

“Good, good. Now then, there are some things you need to know, of course. Master Diluc will come by tomorrow so you’ll get the full rundown of the place,” Charles says.

You nod eagerly. Master Diluc, yeah? During your short visit to the nation, you have already heard some talk of him. The wine industry tycoon from Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way. Aloof, but the perfect gentleman. And apparently single, too.

“Naturally, the weekends can get hectic, but he usually helps out on the busy nights, so you won’t have to worry,” Charles continues.

“Great! I’ll be here tomorrow then, an hour before the place opens?” you suggest.

“Sounds good. I’ll let him know. Good luck.”

You shake hands and so the two weeks of working your ass off in a tavern in Mondstadt officially begins. Two weeks, then you’ll be free to go wherever the wind guides you. You haven't stayed this long in one place before, but then again, your sword hasn't been broken before. You feel weirdly naked without a weapon, but as long as you don't venture outside the city during night, you should be fine.

—

The uncrowned king of Mondstadt is indeed worth every rumour you’ve heard and more. For some reason, you assumed he would be older, at least middle-aged, but instead you’re thrown against a young and extremely handsome nobleman. No wonder the ladies swoon over him.

You decide to conduct yourself with the utmost professionalism in his company.

“Diluc, of Mondstadt. Good to meet you,” your new boss introduces himself.

You take a tad too long a look from his blazing red ponytail down to the pyro Vision on his belt before reciprocating the introductions.

Forget extremely handsome, he is too attractive for your own good. This is the person you’re supposed to work with for the next two weeks? Archons, you need to get ready to make a complete fool out of yourself. Mentally, you reprimand yourself from getting any hazy ideas. He is still your employer, who is going to pay a lot of Mora to you in two weeks. Then you will be on your merry way to Inazuma.

“Charles informed me of your qualifications. I’ll show you where everything is and then we can take a look at the menu,” Diluc says and leads you behind the bar counter. “Two of our most important items are Dandelion Wine and Apple Cider. Both are produced at the Dawn Winery.”

As you nod, you can’t shake the feeling that his eyes are drilling right into you, scrutinizing. It’s time to make an impression with your amazing bartending skills and a few tricks you picked up in Sumeru from an old witch living in the desert.

Caramel Pinecone, Boreal Watch, Gray Valley Sunset… You nail them all.

“You’re good,” Diluc admits, unable to hide his surprise, “I might have work for you in the future, too. Where did you say you came from?”

“Liyue before coming to Mondstadt, but originally I’m from Sumeru City, born and raised,” you say as you add some finishing touches on the Wolfhook Juice. It’s the last one of Diluc’s pop quiz tests and you’re feeling rather proud and accomplished. You truly hope the feeling will last until the end of your first real shift behind the bar counter.

Diluc just hums in thought and you guess that the time for his over-exaggerated praise is over. At least you passed his tests with high marks.

“Are you ready to open the place?” he asks.

“You bet!” you reply eagerly, nervous excitement thumping inside your chest.

Diluc pauses on his way to unlock the front door and turns around. “Oh and one more thing. No tabs or free drinks. The bard is no exception.”

You nod, zero idea who he is talking about. “Got it, Master Diluc.”

“Just Diluc.” An almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips. You can truly tell why he has hoarded all those unofficial titles and amassed his popularity among Mondstadters.

The man is hot.

“You got it, boss. Diluc.” You quickly correct yourself and grimace.

Diluc acts as if you said nothing.

Good thing you were already mentally prepared to embarrass yourself in his company.

Your first shift at the tavern is fortunately a calm one. Diluc hangs by the bar counter, not giving out a word of advice, praise or criticism. It’s almost easy to forget he exists. You just need to focus very hard on everything you’re doing and not dare to look his way, which proves difficult because the blazing red hair is constantly disturbing your peripheral vision.

At some point Diluc steps out for a few hours to “take care of some business” and you find yourself breathing a little easier. The work is going better than you anticipated. It will be easy Mora.

As the last of the tavern patrons twaddle out close to midnight, Diluc scoots by closer. You raise your eyes from polishing the glass in your hands.

“We should call it a night. I’ll show you how to lock this place up,” he says and grabs a key from his pocket. “Take this.”

“Right, thank you.” He drops the key to your open palm. It reminds you that you don’t have a place to stay in the city. The previous night you slept in your old, leaky tent, but surely there are better options.

“Listen, I just arrived in Mondstadt, so…” you begin and inhale to calm the distress in your voice. You don’t really have the funds to pay for accommodations.

Diluc’s brows raise a bit. Another assessing glance washes over you before you’re deemed worthy of the trust.

“You can stay here for the night and find more suitable accommodations tomorrow,” he offers and adds: “But only for tonight.”

“Oh, thank you! I promise I’m not planning on drinking the bar empty on my own.” You even manage a small chuckle at your own sad joke. Diluc doesn’t acknowledge it.

“There’s a room upstairs, first door left,” he says. “But first I’ll show you how the locks work, come on.”

—

→ Vol. 2 Friend or Foe: The Cavalry Captain - Coming soon!