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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

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DRIFTER'S BALLAD. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which you come whirling into the wanderer’s life like a tempestous storm, bringing pleasant gales in your wake and an unsuspecting puppet under your thrall. (or, alternatively, you end up worming your way too deeply into the wanderer's life that he doesn't want to let go. uh oh)

warnings: 10k words, strangers to lovers!trope, pining, HUGE SLOWBURN, misunderstandings, angst, the wanderer is bad at feelings (the complete package), reader is a traveler but NOT the game traveler and has a hydro vision. aether is the canon mc. i have no idea if this is ooc, mentions of fontaine, some references to scara's past names n titles not really all that canon compliant so sorry abt that lol

mhie's notes: it took me 1 large cup of coffee and a portion of my soul to write this fic and i think im severely delirious rn. honestly hate the ending but fuck it we ball, don't ask me why i randomly decided to churn out this monstrosity because idk it's the wanderer he does that alot, this is definitely my magnum flopus bc i hate it but also what the fuck did i just write. anyways enjoy?????

Sumeru is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air.

The nation of Dendro is nothing short of lustrous, lush, and teeming with life— various aromas of delicacies you’ve never even set eyes upon before; colorful wares the merchants of Sumeru City proudly flaunt, varieties of daily necessities and souvenirs all on display.

Yes, this would be the perfect place for you to temporarily take up residence in.

Once you got used to it, at least.

But trouble always follows the unprepared, especially for someone yet to be acquainted with such a place so humid like Sumeru, and you certainly don’t expect to find yourself robbed the moment you let down your guard sightseeing.

“Hey, hey! Get back here, you thief! That's my mora!”

Your shamelessness admittedly gets you strange looks by the locals there, but you hardly pay them any mind, too focused on actually getting your valuables back and potentially saving yourself from being in extreme poverty. Adventuring was already costly as it is. You didn't need a run for your money.

Just a little more and you could get to that thief… you were so close…!

…So close until you bump into someone at the worst timing known to Teyvat. Already irritated, it doesn't take long for you to direct such anger to said someone, despite knowing just how foolish that notion was. “Ugh! Hey, do you mind?! I was just about to get that damn no good th-”

“-ief…?”

The first thing you notice about the someone that you bump into is that oh, he's beautiful.

Not handsome, no, beautiful. Ethereal, almost. As if his visage was crafted by the very Gods themselves.

And then you notice that hat.

It was huge, clearly not of Sumerian origin, and now that you look closer, his clothing resembles that of certain Inazuman individuals… Right, what was the word again? Shugenja?

He hardly looked the part though, especially with that face. You've always thought monks would've had a kinder face. This guy's face however, seemed stormy. Melancholic, in a way— you can't deny that he is likely the most attractive person you've ever come across in ages.

“Oh, ah-! I'm sorry for bumping into you!” Archons above, your voice was so weak. What was up with you? Did tumbling into some random guy mess with your brain so bad you seem to see him in rose-tinted lenses now?

And was it just you, or did he seem to look forlorn for a moment? He seemed quite aimless, too… maybe missing someone?

That brief glimpse of sorrow fades from his gaze like a flash of thunder, as if it was never there in the first place, and a sigh escapes the beautiful stranger’s lips, mildly displeased. “It’s fine. Watch where you're going next time.”

A pause, before he looks towards the direction of where the thief last scuttled off to, in a rather sketchy corner of the Grand Bazaar. “If you're done staring, the guy you were chasing went that way, by the way.”

...??

“Oh. Oh, right! Sorry, sorry, I have to go… Thank you for telling me though!”

You don't hear his response as you zip past him.

(Oh. Archons. He looked so beautiful. There's heat travelling to your face and you're not sure if that's the adrenaline from running or just a side effect of that eye-catching stranger.)

Although, a small part of your mind can't help but wonder why such a pretty person seemed to be making such a sad face.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Thankfully, all was well after that encounter with that stranger. Like the heavens themselves answered your pleas, it was just your luck that a matra had spotted the thief, and by extension, you.

Turns out that the thief was quite well-known, having robbed quite a lot of people to warrant himself a top priority capture in the Matra’s jurisdiction. Apparently, he used to be a researcher that fell from grace at Sumeru’s most well-known academic institution, the Akademiya. Really, scholars were quite the odd bunch, weren't they…

Being severely hungry as a result of the chase, you end up going to a certain Lambad’s Tavern and, in a sick twist of fate, you find the stranger there again, sipping away at a cup of coffee, looking like it's no one's business what he's up to.

This time, it's his hat that you notice, not his face. In the back of your mind, you wonder why he didn't take it off. He was already inside the tavern, so why didn't he remove that big hat of his?

(He suits the hat, though.)

You don't know what drives you to move forward, whether it be liquid courage or just because of the way he seemed to be someone you were oddly drawn to, somehow. Even if you've only met him just earlier.

So, with a smile and determination on your face, you approach him, sitting down from across his seat. He visibly stops, and you can see that he's internally weighing whether to drive you out. “You're the stranger from earlier, right? The one who helped me?”

“...” Not a talkative one, is he?

“Y’know, staying silent forever won't stop me from asking. You mind if I can sit here?”

You can see him exhale out a sigh, as if the very notion of answering tires him to his bones. Okay, how rude. “Do what you want. Just keep your voice down. Don't you know people need their peace?”

You raise your brow. “Well, don't you know it's polite to make small talk?”

“Heh, well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know, in fact, since I rarely engage in them. Trivial things like that are no use to me.”

“Wow, what a life you must live then, with that mindset of yours.”

He gives you a condescending look. “Yeah, it's great. Perfectly content with this mindset of mine, thanks.”

You should be fuming right now, really. At the sheer audacity of this blue-garbed stranger, at his extremely candid and no filter words. But you aren't. If anything, it was quite charming. “You have a knack for throwing people off, don't you?”

“Hah, that's their problem. You humans can be annoyingly sensitive sometimes, after all.” another sip of his coffee follows suit.

Humans. Was he a non-human then if he seems to exclude himself from that category? What an interesting stranger.

You ask for his name; he's reluctant, letting another beat of silence pass before he gives it to you. Wanderer. What kind of person names someone Wanderer? Maybe he wasn't human after all.

As if sensing the weird look you give him, he noticeably bristles up. “What? Got a problem with that name?”

“No, it's just…” you pause, before you grin uncontrollably. “Pfft, ahahahahaha! What kind of strange name is that? That sounds so cool! Yet so- Er, sorry, how do I say it? Ah, right. Eccentric! That's quite the eccentric name you got there, Wanderer.”

(He tenses slightly. How strange, being reminded of the past in the company of a stranger.)

“With the way you seem so amused by my name, I’d think you'd put me off as some clown on the streets.” he grumbles, but makes no motion to actually be offended by your words. “Your order’s here. Best you compose yourself or you’d make a mess laughing yourself silly.”

“Oh, you're right..!” and indeed, your delicious order of Sabz Meat Stew comes in right at the perfect time, the smell of the mild lemon and aromantic spices wafting through the air in a harmonious blend. You could almost drool at the sight in front of you.

When you accidentally burn yourself by immediately taking a small sip of the stew, there's a snicker from across you from Wanderer, his expression mildly amused.

“Even sturmbeasts have the patience to wait till it isn't hot. If I didn't know any better, I’d say you’d finish that stew in one go.”

You huff. “Well, I'm hungry, so just spare me the clever quips, will you? Or I just might.”

Unbeknownst to you, a strange feeling of nostalgia wells deep within him when he sees you scarf down the stew, albeit quite gracelessly.

There's awe in your expression for such a simple thing, just a broth made from herbs and meat.

It reminds him a little bit too much of the puppet he was before, that starry-eyed face.

What an interesting stranger.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Ah! It's you again, Wanderer!”

He can see you scrambling to get to his side, and frankly, he doesn't even know why he ended up here, focusing on the now muddy path in front of him. The rain rumbles on, getting stronger by the minute.

He'd been getting restless as of late, always dreaming, the ghosts of the past being more of a pain lately. Since Lesser Lord Kusanali did tell him to take it easy… even she couldn't blame him if he couldn't help but want to leave the stuffy air of the Akademiya. She'd understand.

Probably.

So here he was, in some corner of Avidya Rainforest, walking through the heavy rain. This was his life now, being a wanderer. To think that he, a former Fatui, a Harbinger at that, would end up writing research papers about how that recluse’s nation ended up is now letting time pass by aimlessly walking through this inconvenient rain shower… truly, he's fallen far from grace.

“Wha-! Hey, don't ignore me! You're going to get soaked..!”

Though with your appearance, he supposes it wasn't a bad decision. Even if his ears hurt from your volume.

“Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself rather than me?”

Unlike him, you were visibly soaked, rain droplets littering the expanse of your form, the water making your clothes cling to you like a second skin. You wave your hand dismissively at his statement.

“It's no big deal. I'm used to heavy rainfall already, on the road and all… and besides, I gave away my umbrella to a merchant passing by before coming here. But in any case-!”

You grab at his wrist, and he could easily shove you away, tell you to leave him be, but somehow, he doesn't. “What are you doing?”

“Getting shelter, obviously!” and just like that, you take him by the hand, hiding under his hat, whirling past the strong breeze, unwavering, running towards the nearest shade you can find. “The both of us will end up soaked at this rate!”

Your hands are warm in his own.

Soft, gentle. So unlike his own cold, mechanically structured joints. A small part of him loathes the sensation.

Human touch reminded him of what he was, after all. Created, artificial. So different from the warmth of your fingertips, of the heart you housed in your body. It’s a bitter reminder of what he had yearned to be, and what he could never be.

And yet inexplicably, the Wanderer finds that he doesn't hate this particular touch.

(How bothersome.)

The two of you find shelter in the form of a huge tree, big enough to block out the temporary rain, and he watches as you gather your bearings, checking your travel bag for any soaked items. He can see that you're diligent, tirelessly taking out the items that seem to be a lost cause, and leaving the ones that seem salvageable to dry near the shade. You even hum a tune while doing so.

Hah, how carefree.

“So, why did you give it away?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your umbrella. Humans get sick easily, and only an idiot would give up their umbrella in this downpour, so why bother giving it to someone else? They won't even return it.”

He can see you purse your lips, contemplating how to answer his words. Then, you shrug. “Guess I just wanted to. Doesn't hurt anyone if you just wanted to do something good.”

Are you serious?

“But you'd be the one inconvenienced. It's not worth it.”

“Says who? That merchant looked troubled, and if I could help him even with something small as giving my umbrella, then it's worth it.”

How vexing. This unabashed kindness certainly takes him for surprise; You could've easily ignored that merchant, like all humans do, and go on with your life, perfectly dry and dandy. He would certainly do that, anyway. But then again, he wasn't exactly the giving type, and he wasn't a saint. Who was he to judge?

A few moments of silence pass, and even for him, this awkwardness is stifling.

“...Say, do you think it was a bad decision?” he can't discern anything deep in your tone except for the simple desire to keep up cordial conversation. “Giving my umbrella away, I mean.”

“No.” he answers immediately, despite not really knowing why he answered that way. He doesn't even think it was a good decision to give it away in the first place. “It wasn't.”

“Why?” there's curiosity in your voice, and for a moment he seems out of it, plunged into a bygone memory. Why indeed?

(“It’s only natural for people to want to help someone in need. It's in our nature.”

“I'm not exactly.... 'people' though, Niwa.”

A bygone laugh lost time echoes across the breeze.

“Who says you aren't included? Everyone could use a helping hand. Naturally, it applies to those who aren't human too, Kabukimono. But I already did tell you, right?

You're human just like the rest of us, as far as I'm concerned.”)

The voice of Niwa echoes in his mind, a passing thought.

“Its in human nature to want to help people, and because just a simple thing like that meant there was one person who wanted to reach out to you,” a pause, before he adds something far more personal than his normally guarded self would.

“-and because that meant there was at least someone who wanted to help you, even if for nothing in return. Just wanting to do something good. No strings attached.

…It's not a bad thing, at least.”

(This, he supposes, is one of the things that made him long to be like them in the first place.)

You probably wouldn't know just how much it took for him to say these words, just how much your passing words seemed to impact him. You probably wouldn't know either, how saying these words, forcing them out from his artificed jaw had made some part of him feel infinitely lighter. Snapping an invisible shackle from his body.

Making him feel a little more free, in a way.

“Hm.” You fall back into that silence, and he can see you musing to yourself about his words. “Is that what you think?”

??? “I guess so.”

He doesn't see the smile on your face. “You’re a good person, Wanderer.”

Hah. What a joke. Him? A good person? If only you knew. “You shouldn't just assume things about me just because of my words.”

What part about him was good? Humans truly loved to jump into conclusions easily.

(He's a fire, turning everything he cherishes to ashes, and then blaming it on himself. Hazardous to everyone around him. He's nothing like a good person.)

And yet he elicits a laugh out of you, melodious and clear, the sound strangely pleasant in his ears. What audacity.

“Yeah? Well, I guess it's just a feeling. You're pretty blunt, but you have this strange sincerity to you, you know? I like that. It's good, that honesty. It means you can accept the harsh parts of life people normally turn a blind eye to and move forward. That makes you a good person, that type of mindset.”

(Huh. He's never thought of it that way.)

It was still raining. Wanderer can hear the pitter-patter of the droplets from above the tree, gloomy sky overhead. It's sorry weather and this was one sorry conversation, hitting too close to something he thought he had long buried in the dust.

“You’re strange.” he mutters, and you laugh again, smile playing on your lips.

“Thanks, I get that alot.” you snark playfully, turning away from him, already getting back to fixing your things.

The weather was gloomy and dark, but the glow of your smile seemed to overshadow it all.

Indeed, how strange, this conversation.

For the first time in a long, long time, when he dreams, the Wanderer finds that the restlessness that plagued him isn't as suffocating as before.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Woah, you can really see the best view here!”

Had he not heard the crunch of the leaves under your feet, perhaps he would've startled, immediately throwing you off with a simple gale from his anemo powers. But you'd probably end up showering him with that stupid hydro vision of yours, so he doesn't entertain the thought, at least for now.

You plop down next to him on the soft bed of grass, one knee propped up to rest your head on. He follows suit, sitting down at one of the vantage points he's come across.

For some reason or another, you both find yourself in each other's company too many times for Wanderer to count. Whether it be from him passing by you in Sumeru City, or spending time at Avidya Forest and seeing you help around with those Forest Rangers, he certainly has seen quite a lot of you these days.

Whenever you do cross paths, he gets dragged into unsavory situations like helping out the people in Avidya Forest, getting a meal at some tavern you introduce him to, ever spontaneous with the incessant conversations about the mundane that he can't help but indulge in.

It has gotten to the point where he begrudgingly accepts the title you bestow upon him as friends.

Ridiculous, unnecessary. He didn't need a human connection, not now, not ever. Why the hell did he not rebuke you? He's received titles that are far more intricate and complex than you could ever imagine, ever comprehend.

(He won't say that he actually does enjoy it, being someone you consider your friend.)

You talk about your travels, about the nations you've been in, about damn almost everything possible. He's never enjoyed chatty humans, but your presence exudes comfort in some way, one that he can't help but return to, despite all his complaints and grumbles about it. He can bicker with you all he likes, spout insults upon insults from his lips, and you'd still see through him anyway, calling him out on his true intentions.

(“You know, you're kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

“That's ludicrous. Did the daydreaming rot your brain too much?”

“You say that, but if so, why are you so insistent in helping me with these simple things?”

A cart full of Zaytun peaches in his hands and yours. A commission for more mora. Your commission. He could've let you do it yourself. So why?

Both of you know why, but the puppet you've come to be endeared with is far too prideful to admit the true reason.

“That's... It was just in a whim. That's all. It's nothing like what you think it is.”

“Heh, sure, whatever you say, Kuni.”)

Whether you've intended to or not, you've glued yourself by his side to the point where he doesn't even know when there's a day he hasn't heard your enthusiastic voice talking about who knows what, and somehow, he finds that he doesn't tire of it at all.

If anything, your presence by his side is like a refreshing breather from everything in his life.

You've helped him immensely, despite the fact that it likely took you a great many times trying to break through his demanding and standoffish nature. For that, Wanderer truly does feel grateful for the fact that you chose to stay by his side despite how prickly he often lauds himself as. It's beneath him, it should be, it is.

(You've made it clear that he can easily get out of this strange arrangement as he sees fit, but even if it came to, the Wanderer can't find it in him to complain. He never does.)

In the duration of your time together, he finds that being the subject of your attention and companionship is something he takes great pleasure in, amugness and haughtiness aside. And frankly? He's firmly attached to it now, and he's sure as hell he's now unwilling to let such an addictive and warm feeling slip by his grasp.

…Maybe Buer wasn't so foolish about this whole companionship thing after all.

(“We’re friends now, you know! Companions, whatever you wanna call it.”

He can see the mirth on your face, the upturn of your lips. He can hear your laugh, and he can almost see your eyes crinkling around the corners. He didn't answer then, only turning his hat away from you to hide his face which houses a smile he’d rather not show you, given your teasing nature.

“Hmph. What childish whims you make me take part in.”

He'd also rather not show you how red his face was, but that was besides the point.

“Aww, you're shy! Hehe, I knew you weren't all gloomy and sarcastic! Come on, let me see how much you like being called my companion!”

“...Be quiet or I’ll take back my words.”

Laughter peals out of you, and the sound makes his smile just a tad bit bigger.

Your friend. Your companion.

That wasn't so bad.)

Out of all the humans he's come across, he thinks you're the most bearable.

The soft glow of the setting sun paints a picturesque view of Sumeru’s forest, amplified by the soft blend of reds, yellows and orange which makes the sunset look even more wonderful. Your hydro vision glints by the angle of the light hitting it, situated near your heart. Similar to his vision’s own placement, he notes with satisfaction.

The occasional breeze passes through as well, making your hair all messed up.

(Endearing.)

“Guess you were right. It is quite pretty here.” You continue, again, smiling at him with that irritatingly dazzling smile as you turn back to the sunset. Something in him stirs.

“The view is... bearable at best.”

He can see you scrunch your face in feigned irritation. “Jeez, just say you agree!”

Wanderer doesn't respond, content to drink in the comfortable silence between you two.

Indeed, for all his wandering, he'd come across many sights that were quite tolerable, a fact that you would understand most, being of similar standing as a traveler. This view in particular better than the rest, he muses.

You look good with the setting sun in the background, lighting your skin aglow. Not that he'd ever admit it to your face or else he'd probably face even more teasing from you, irksome terribly nosy as you are.

You both stay that way, watching the sun descend below the horizon, melting away like a soft flame, the darkness of the night soon to come.

“Hey, Wanderer?”

“What is it this time?” Masking it with feigned irritation, he hopes the fondness of his expression doesn't reach your eyes.

“Thanks for showing me such a pretty view.”

The Wanderer turns to you, the words he painstakingly garnered after internally warring with himself die on his lips, seeing you watch the blood red sun soon disperse, leaving the flickering embers of reds and orange in its wake.

The view, huh?

Yeah, it wasn't so bad.

---

“Oh! Welcome back. You stayed out quite late. Did you have a good time with [Name]?”

Nahida’s gentle tone greets him when he returns. She knows of you, given how frequently you've visited the Sanctuary of Surasthana to bother the ever so aloof puppet. The Sanctuary is relatively quiet, save for the occasional light noise of Wanderer's geta sandals as he descends down the steps.

Night has long graced Sumeru City, the pitch black darkness encompassing the nation, but the lights down below still find that the City itself is still bustling with life, likely soon to close up as the people get ready to rest after a hard day's work.

“It wasn't anything special.” she looks at him quizzically, intent to seek a reaction from the ever so guarded puppet.

It's only when she gets close enough that she stops, a small, knowing smile creeping up her face.

“It was just to see the sunset for a few minutes.”

There, from a miniscule glimpse from behind his face does she notice it.

The red on his cheeks that's all too similar to the shade around his eyes.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

It's been a while since you and the Wanderer have graciously known each other (his words), and to her most eager surprise, Nahida finds that it seems you've changed the puppet for the better.

He's visibly less prone to snapping at people, more mild-tempered (which is a huge improvement in her book) and can even hold conversations with others more— granted, only if she or you were there.

Of course, he still actively avoids delving into the trivialities of mortals, but is content to stay in your company.

His thesis and research papers have seen the light of day more often too, being given to her days early in advance when he normally would've waited till the deadline to submit them.

(“I see that your productivity has increased with regards to your academic endeavors. That's good news!

If I may, what’s with the change of heart?”

She could see the Wanderer scoff, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, defensive. Like a cat with its fur on end, she likens.

“That's not your business to be concerned about. Besides, aren't you glad I'm finally putting up with this tiresome activity you've given me to learn more about myself like you wanted?”

“Anyway, just take it already. I just-” he'd sputtered then, so uncharacteristic of his normally apathetic nature, tipping his hat low away from her as he hands her the stack of papers.

She doesn't miss the pink hue splattered across his face. The sight is familiar.

“I'm in a hurry to meet someone, and these boring research papers will end up making them wait for me even longer. Need I say anything else?”)

In fact, by the way he's acting lately— the constant hovering around you under the guise of simply going out of the Akademiya to gather research material, the various times she's caught the both of you asleep, shoulder to shoulder in the corners of the House of Daena, scribbles of shared notes and books around you two, the way the Wanderer seems more keen on interacting with you than others…

The rumors that seem to point to him spending much more time outside the Akademiya, and sightings of him across various parts of Sumeru with a certain someone.

And to hit the final nail in the coffin, the final puzzle piece of the dichotomy of the puppet she's harbored in her tutelage, she even caught him making a certain something with great care that's normally atypical of him, clearly tailored to the taste for a certain someone.

Yes, by the information at hand, she could even say that the Wanderer is….

No. She shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. Wisdom came with knowledge, and she didn't have sufficient knowledge to prove whether her hypothesis was correct.

The wisdom she's gaining here is still invaluable despite it being an arbitrary decision she had just thought of; She had nothing to lose here, and this would bode well in order for her to understand the workings of the puppet once called the Balladeer.

A creak of the Sanctuary’s doors alerts her to the appearance of someone coming inside.

“Nahida…?”

Ah. Perfect timing. It seems she’ll get the answers to her questions today.

“[Name]! What a nice surprise. What brings you here? Is the Wanderer giving you any trouble?”

The shake of your head is vehement, and you're quick to defend the prickly puppet at once. “No, no way! Well– Not too much trouble, anyway. You know how he can be.”

She smiles at that, slightly relieved at how earnest you answer. As expected, you were truly a sweet one, and she can tell why the puppet is intent on sticking by your side. “I see. Then, a friendly chat? If that's the case, feel free to chat with me. We're all friends here, after all.”

“Well… Yeah, about that.” Your expression is sheepish, a little meek. She keeps a mental note of the small color adorning your cheeks. “I wanted to ask for some advice. You know? For me- I mean! For a friend! Yes, for a friend, haha…”

“A friend?” she can play along with this if it meant she would gain insight to her current predicament. “Well then, ask away! Please tell me what this friend of yours needs advice on.”

A deep breath from you, willing yourself to take out the words lodged in the back of your throat.

“Say, Nahida. What would you do if you realize that someone who you've recently spent a lot of time with makes you feel… well, makes you feel, you know.”

Oh?

The God of Wisdom can almost giggle at the way you're trying to get your words to make sense, stringing them together in an instant. When you've clearly mulled it over enough, Nahida cranes her neck to hear your voice.

“Mm? What was that, [Name]?”

You take a deep breath, and spill everything to her.

By the time you exit the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she's trying hard not to fight but a grin on her face, and ultimately falls short.

There's only one final conclusion she's came to, and the puzzle has already come together.

Now, she wonders, if her conclusion was indeed right, how would it go from here? Once she'd understood the situation at hand, she'd given you just a small hint at the feelings she knows is simmering beneath the normally composed Wanderer, and hopes that you'd do well with such information.

This time, would a puppet such as him accept what was to be offered to him? Or would he turn away from it, as he always used to do with what he truly wished to have?

Truly, there were still many questions in this world that needed answering, and this was no exception.

---

“Are you done speaking with Buer?”

The puppet with the huge hat is by your side the instant you exit the Sanctuary. Instead of the usual exuberant energy, the you he's greeted with seems more quiet.

What did that damn god do? He swears, if she had even offended you in some way, he'd–

“....” Still quiet.

“Hey, have you grown mute or something? Look at me.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. We talked. Just about… something trivial. About my travels, that's all! Don't waste your time thinking about it, Kuni.” you're visibly out of it, but you flash him a smile as you always do, immediately heading back to the City.

He's unconvinced that was just the content of your conversation, given that God's need for constant information. He might as well say it. She's more nosy than she gives herself credit for, so he rather hopes you didn't give in to her (most likely) constant questioning.

“Well, if you say so.” immediately turning on his heel and moving, he misses the look you send him, and the words you utter under your breath.

“Yeah, maybe I should trust Nahida.”

“You've always been good at looking past the surface, [Name]! I'm sure this time is no different.”

“Still, what if I thought wrong? What if he simply sees me as his companion, or like, a confidant, and not-”

“That's unlikely. I'm certain he feels the same. But it's always better to try.”

“Well, you're right about that. Are you really, really sure he'll respond the way you think he will?”

“You'll do great regardless of the outcome, you know. Even if things will change between you two because of your decision, the Wanderer will appreciate you regardless. You've been a huge solace to him. Knowing him, he won't let you slip through his grasp easily.”

It's silent for a moment.

“I sure hope you're right.” an exasperated, fond sigh escapes your lips. “Really, he can be so confusing sometimes. Guess that's part of his charm.”

“Hehe, that I agree. You'll definitely do well, [Name].”

“Thanks, Nahida.”

You're having second doubts about what you're doing, each step nearing the Sanctuary of Surasthana you've no doubt the Wanderer is in right now. He'd never willingly go anywhere else on his own accord unless it was here, after all.

In your hand, the small glint of the present you've prepared for a certain someone gleams, spotless and pristine. A lotus pin. Its petals contain liquid resin and encased in it, a real Nilotpala Lotus, the colors resembling the shade of the Wanderer's eyes the reason why you picked it in the first place.

(You hope he likes it.)

Aside from the pin, there's also the letter containing your heart— rather, the feelings that have threatened to burst ever since the day you've come across that beautiful puppet with the strange, strange name. The one you’ve considered to be the sole captor of your attention, and not long after, your adoration.

Ah, what's the point in lying to yourself? From the moment your eyes met those blue-indigo ones, you knew you stood no chance in the feelings that soon enveloped you.

It took some time to get over once you've realized it, the subtle shift of you and the Wanderer’s dynamic growing to be more and more difficult to ignore as you both spend time together.

Just how deeply have you begun to feel for this puppet, longing to be able to see all the sides of him?

His joy, his melancholy, his anger, his arrogance, his haughtiness…. The sides he condemns and holds in a tight grip, and the softer parts of himself which he desperately tries to hide.

How he always seems to be more patient when dealing with children or the elderly on your encounters in Sumeru City or Avidya Rainforest, how his words betray his true intentions, how he’s far more human than he ever believes himself otherwise, being the most caring person you've ever come across, in his own weird ways.

Every second you spend with him, you see even more parts of himself that he bares before you, trusting you to accept it and stay by his side even then. And you do.

You're completely and utterly enamored with him, it's terrifying.

Sumeru was just supposed to be another next stop for you. Being a traveller, partings and meetings with others were transient, fleeting. You didn't expect to feel the growing attachment to this fragile yet untouchable puppet swell until it consumed you.

(You didn't expect to care for him this much, to fall for him this deeply.)

He calls himself someone beneath such simple feelings, but you can't help but hope that perhaps he has grown to care for you as well, in one small corner of his heart.

He may say that he doesn't have one, a homage to his inhuman origins, but you're not buying it. How could you believe him, when all his actions proved otherwise?

You remember when he first opened up to you, a small sight into what made up his entire being, a glimpse behind those stubbornly unreachable walls he's conjured up to protect himself. The both of you were high up in one of the huge trees that only the rainforests of Sumeru can boast, under the canopy of leaves.

He'd been standing, looking at the stars with that same stormy expression you had first seen on him the day the both of you had first encountered each other.

You'd been in awe of the twinkling stars high up in the sky, to which the Wanderer had responded with his normal apathy, immediate nitpick about your supposed ‘simplemindedness at mere balls of gas in the heavens’. It had escalated, a conversation about the stars slowly turning in the direction of fate, and eventually towards questions about yourselves.

(“So I can call you by that name? Kunikuzushi?”

Even though you tried to hide it, there'd been an unmistakable grin on your face. He'd finally told you at least some part of his past! Perhaps this would lead you two to get closer.

And maybe….

Wanderer– Kunikuzushi, rather, crossed his arms, giving you a deadpan look. “You're so happy about that. It's just a name. Use it if you want to. Calling me Wanderer all the time is way too troublesome.”

“Troublesome? I don't think so, though? And of course I'm happy! Finally, here I thought you'd never tell me anything about yourself. This is cause for celebration, you know.”

“Hardly. Only simpletons like you would find it fit to be celebrated, but the sentiment is admirable.” Adorable, hiding his face beneath his hat. The small peek at the normally straight line that is his lips turning upwards tells you all you need to know.

“Riiight… In any case, Kunikuzushi is too long!” he grimaces at that. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've smited them for the slight insult. You aren't just anyone, though.

“So, can I call you Kuni?”

He takes his time weighing the option whether to be dissatisfied with the nickname or not, but in the end, ultimately decides the latter.

“Do whatever you want.”)

Whatever the case, you've already been persuaded by Nahida to tell him about your feelings.

You weren't going to run away from this. You won’t. You were going to give it to him. You were going to give it. Don't be a coward, [Name], this won't hurt anyone at all, and Kunikuzushi—

“What are you talking about, Buer? It's nothing like that.

....Look, they're not that important as you think, you've thought wrong. [Name] is just....”

The Wanderer's voice echoes loudly, irritated. And he's pissed, judging from his tone. Hiding near the steps to the entrance the Sanctuary of Surasthana, you can't help but listen in. Was he arguing with Nahida? And a mention of your name...?

“Are you sure? Because I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”

Huh?

“But, [Name] is a good person. They've clearly helped you immensely, and if you keep ignoring their impact on you, then…”

“They’ve done nothing. They're just– Look, whatever foolish flight of fantasy you've conjured in your head about me and them, it's nothing. Don't bother trying to refute me, because it really isn't anything.”

You hardly pay attention to Nahida's response, too busy trying to steady the emotions currently rushing through your body.

Normally, you’d immediately question his words, chalking them up as him just wanting others to stop prying into his business.

But the sincerity in his words, the finality of it- Was that what he really thought? You thought he at least appreciated your presence. Not… not this. You feel like your chest is threatening to burst.

Did you really mean nothing to him? Was all that time you've spent together really nothing?

You don't know. In fact, now that this riveting declaration he'd given had come to light, all you know is that you don't want to be here right now. He's talked about betrayal before, something in his past. He didn't divulge too many details, but you knew it wounded him deeply.

Now, though? you can't help but think it was you that had been betrayed.

To think that all this time….

Whatever traces of your earlier enthusiasm has died and snuffed out like a flickering candlelight. If he were to spot you now after you know how he truly feels about you, would you be able to face him?

There's only one answer. You can't.

You needed to get out of here, and fast.

So you did.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

When the Wanderer goes to the spot you two meet up frequently and doesn't find you there, he's mildly displeased.

His pride was far too big to quantify, so normally he would've brushed this off, but it was you. You, the only person he'd even relatively opened himself to.

Ever-present you, who he's grown to care for in more ways that he can admit. You, the person he can't help but be drawn to, the one being who's been on his mind far too many times to count. The one who's shown him that in this damn world, there were things that were worth something.

That he was worth something. Worthy of attention, companionship, and all the good things you've brought to him.

He shouldn't be feeling this way, because he really shouldn't. It was just a day without you, how hard could that even be?

But the sting of slight hurt can't help but surface at you not showing up at your designated meeting spot.

You don't show up the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next day after that. And the next day after that day.

There's a sinking feeling in the void where his heart lies, bitterness that can't compare to the coffee he takes in that stupid Lambad's Tavern.

Without the constant rambling of a certain someone inadvertently making his days lighter, his routine has grown as dull as it always has, now that you've left the picture.

(He despises this feeling.)

Ah. Again, someone else had left. You left. Left him just when he was so close to realizing the fact that maybe, this transient connection between you two should be something he could care for, that he was allowed to foster; Something that the Wanderer could finally hold dear.

What a joke.

Though his mind had long cemented the idea that you had indeed left him in the dust as all mortals he'd cherished had, some idiotic, hopeful part of him thought otherwise.

Would you really leave him without warning?

Without good reason? As much as he would like to say to himself that yes, you would, for fate has never been kind to a puppet such as he, always taking what he cherishes away from his grasp, deep down, he knows you wouldn't do that.

The [Name] he knows isn't like that. You could be mischievous, insufferable, stubborn to a head-ache inducing fault, but you weren’t someone who would leave without a reason.

You upheld your beliefs to a strict standard, too tough on yourself sometimes that he finds it irritating, and always so easy to sway. As much as he'd like to disagree, he knows you too much, so much that he undoubtedly believes you wouldn't leave without a reason.

As for why… There had to be a reason why you suddenly thought it was best if you would spend less time with him. Rather, that you stopped spending time with him.

Was it because of his personality?

Immediately, he chuckles humorlessly. Hah, don't be an idiot. If that was why you'd left then you would've left a long time ago.

Then…. something he’d said to hurt your feelings? He doesn't recall anything of the sort so why—

Oh. Oh.

(“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”)

Curse his traitorous tongue.

Immediately as his hopes had risen, they were crushed by the steady, disgusting realization that because of that one conversation with Lesser Lord Kusanali, you had deemed yourself unfit to stay by his side like he's secretly been wishing.

He didn't mean it.

As realization festers like an ugly weed poisoning his mind, it's fear that spikes him like little pin pricks all over his consciousness, before desperation takes over and worsens his already crumbling thoughts. He didn't mean for you to hear that. That wasn't what he meant.

Again, someone he held dear had been stripped away from him and it was all his fault. Again, he was the fool, the puppet that hoped for too much.

(“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.”

“What kind of useless advice did you pick up on your travels? What a joke.”

“Hey, just so you know, I actually believe in this saying! After all, it's true. And it's a wonderful statement, don't you think?”)

“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.” he murmurs to himself like a mantra, and though he tries to stomp it out, he can feel the rush of adrenaline pumping his mechanical joints, willing him forward.

He had to apologize. At least, clear up what you had heard that day, tell you that no, that wasn't what he meant. It wasn't what he meant at all.

This was selfish of him, truly, and he won't deny that perhaps he doesn’t deserve to face you, but who cares?

He's grown far too deep into this bond with you that even if Celestia itself had threatened to tear it apart, tear you two apart, he'd use every part of himself to resist, to tie back those broken strings, damn pride forgotten in the winds.

If it wasn't salvageable anymore, then he'd make it so that it is. He'd tell you that he didn't think you were a bother, or that you were just a simple passerby in his long life.

He'd tell you that he’s sorry, that you were more than those things, that you've been more than just a simple companion to him for a long time already. That you've been more than that for a long, long time. If you would allow it, he'd tell you that he—

No. He needs to focus on finding you first. That can wait until after he sees even a glimpse of you.

Now that he has a clear goal in mind, the Wanderer works with a brutal efficiency that he once harbored, back when he held the title of the Balladeer.

Though that version of him is long behind him, if it could speed up the process of finding you, then he'd use it.

He'd use any means necessary right now.

So, he heads to your residence, determination filling his body and a simple outcome in his sights.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Are you sure about this, [Name]? You said you really, really like Sumeru… Maybe you should really think about it more! You might regret it if you don’t!”

Paimon’s voice is sympathetic, and clearly because of how haggard you looked. You thank the heavens she and Aether don't question the tear stains on your face.

“Sorry, Paimon, but I’m sure. I’m not changing my decision.” your voice is a little hoarse from the crying from earlier and probably the day before that, but you put on a brave face to reassure the floating girl. “And right now, I'd think a trip to Fontaine is much better than staying in Sumeru.”

Aether and Paimon look at each other, concerned looks on their faces. It warms your heart, despite the fact that you don't know them all too well and just decided to tag along when they mentioned they were headed off to the Nation of Justice.

You've only heard about Aether in passing, often talked about by the very reason you had even left the Land of the Dendro Archon. The hero of Mondsdat, the outlander, Sumeru’s savior, the endless titles leave you reeling even still. If it were any other day, perhaps you would be taken with him, someone you admire immensely in the flesh.

Too bad your heart is still stuck on one particular puppet. Really, what luck, falling for the one man (puppet) who was as untouchable as he was prideful.

This wasn’t you coping, no, but now that you think about it, this outcome wasn’t something to be surprised about. The Wanderer had made it clear his view on human relationships. It was you who had simply assumed that perhaps like those cliche light novels you’ve come across, maybe there could’ve been something else born out of the companionship you and the Wanderer shared.

“Just know that you’re always welcome to travel with us.” Aether says simply, giving you a simple smile. Luckily, you find it in you to smile back, just a bit. You’re really grateful for them.

But then your mind wanders, back to your residence, back to the contents of the conversation you’ve heard out of Kuni’s– Wanderer’s– mouth. Fine. If this was what he wanted, you stopping to bother him like he so loudly explained– then he’d get it.

The gift you’d made for him, the letter. Just thinking about it made you want to sink into a hole and just never come out.

(Maybe he’d come looking for you. Maybe he’d miss you, feel the depth of your absence like you do for him. You wish he does. You hope he does, really. You were really a goner.)

Looking at Port Ormos’ docks, watching the boat that’ll take all three of you to Fontaine get closer as you begin to forcefully open a new chapter of your adventures, your heart can’t find it in you to be excited at all, although normally you’d be thrilled at the idea of even visiting a nation you’ve been unfamiliar with. You’d probably be chatting away with Aether and Paimon right now, asking about the food, the best sights, everything.

You should be doing that. It’d give you a reason for your mind not to wander and think about the crippling weight of your decision and the feelings that are still very much stirring up within you, with the cause being a certain man with a large hat.

Ugh, could you even stop thinking about him? For all you know, Kuni might just happen to be around the corner and—

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, hm? Intending to leave after you so carelessly hadn’t informed me? Didn’t you say that we were companions? I get that you tend to be forgetful, but even so, this is too much.”

Oh my god.

You’ve never whipped your head around so fast, turning your body towards the source of that familiar, arrogant tone. Lo and behold, speak of the man and he shall appear. What in the world was he doing here? He looks like he’s about to murder someone right now. You hope that someone isn’t you, but there wasn’t anyone else he was looking at dead in the eye, so that’s all for your hopes.

(And why did you feel so relieved? Get a grip on yourself, you fool! This wasn’t a damn tragedy movie.)

From the corner of your eye, you can see Aether and Paimon giving you two strange looks. You can't blame them. It was weird seeing the normally unbothered Wanderer in the company of someone other than Nahida.

Nonetheless, you face him straight in the eye, eyebrows raised and defiant. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Sumeru City?”

He tries to answer, but you can see that he falters momentarily, and that seamless face of his morphs into something that– you hope you weren’t imagining it– something that you can only plainly describe as regret, that in which you can’t help but feel an inexplicable pang in your heart.

Then, you notice it.

Pinned above his vision, with the golden feather he seems to carry with him everywhere. The lotus pin. Right, you’d left it at the inn you were staying in, not wanting to see it again after… Wait a moment, he’s wearing it.

You've hardly the time to feel elated when you feel it. A tug of your hand. You try to remove it from your own, but you’d underestimated the strength he harbors in that lithe body of his; he’s pulling you to the side, immediately heading in the opposite direction. For a moment you’re almost swept into the visage that seems straight out of a romance novel, his hand firmly in place in yours. “Wh-! Hey, Wanderer, wait…!”

Only when you’ve both crossed a specific distance from the docks and in a rather sketchy alleyway with no prying eyes to bother you both does he see fit to let go of you, stopping abruptly that you almost bump into him had it not been for his hat.

It's almost ironic. You'd first met him in an alleyway not too dissimilar to this, and now you're both in another alleyway, this time not as strangers, but as two individuals who have wormed their way into each other's lives so deeply that the presence of the other bleeds, so entangled and mixed into the life of the other in a manner that allowed something far more personal to fester like ink bleeding into a blank canvas, unable to be scrubbed away.

“What were you thinking?”

Is he actually asking this now? What’s more, not even sparing a single glance at you. Honestly, you’ve had it with him. If he wanted to play this way, then so be it.

“What am I thinking? What are you thinking?” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I was just heading off to a new destination of mine, like all travelers do. Yet you act like it’s the end of the world or something. If anything, aren’t you glad I’m not here to bother you anymore?”

“'...So you did hear me and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s conversation. I knew it. Tell me, what else did you hear?”

“That’s… none of your business. Now leave me be, the boat’ll be arriving soon and I don’t intend to be late. Unless you’re purposefully trying to stop me?”

A smirk from him. So he still had the gall to look haughty? “What if I am trying to stop you? What would you do then?”

“Then I’d run away.”

“You know I’m faster than you, right? Or are you forgetting I can use my vision to keep up?”

“So? It can’t hurt to try. Who knows, maybe I’ll use my vision to walk on water to escape you. That'd be a sight to see.” you say, stubbornly sticking to your stand. “Enough bickering, Wanderer, let’s just save the small talk and get to the point. Why are you really here?”

Again, that look of regret flashes across his face. “....”

You wait for him to speak. When he doesn’t, you immediately turn away back to the direction of the boat. Of course that gets him talking.

“I didn’t mean them. The things I said to Buer, it- it wasn’t…. I really didn’t mean it, [Name].” there’s urgency in his voice, a hint of desperation too, one that seemed almost at the edge of tipping over. “Believe me, I didn’t mean them, I swear.”

You aren’t ready for this right now. “Then why say it in the first place? To Nahida, too…! I can’t possibly believe that you didn’t mean them.”

“I’ll keep saying it till you believe it.” the intensity in his voice is firm and determined, surety in it that makes you feel warm from head to toe. Dangerous. He really doesn't know just how much he affects you. Damn him and his stupidly pretty face.

“You’re more than just a companion to me.”

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Please, self-control. Do not be swayed by that face.

But the softness in his tone when he says these words inform you of the sincerity of what the Wanderer is trying to convey, the nature of his words right out in the open, unmasked and raw, bearing itself to you. Genuine regret and guilt fill his expression, and if you decide to look closer, you can see it. The small outline of tears from his eyes.

You can’t look at him. You can’t, or else you know you’re going to be a goner.

“How do I know that’s not a lie?” you challenge, voice small, sneaking a peek at him. There’s a breathless chuckle from him, as if endeared by the thought. The expression he holds right now leaves your mind utterly blank, the fondness in it, the affection seeping from his eyes in waves, a fact that you notice firsthand. You always notice.

“Do you really always have something to say at a time like this?” his words lack bite, amused more than anything. “Then, if you don’t believe me…”

He draws closer to you, close enough that you can push him away if you so desired. You can see him look at you momentarily, a silent question. When you don’t refuse, however, he seems satisfied, and takes it as a signal to proceed.

“I’ll just have to prove it.”

What was happening? Hold on, was he really going to—

His touch is cold, but comforting. Thumb brushing against your jaw, to your lips. So softly, and so lovingly it leaves you in a mess, face burning. You can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the spot he’d held with such care still smoldering in its wake. He cradles your face in his hands like it was you that were precious porcelain, but he doesn’t close the distance like you’ve envisioned.

Instead, you find that there’s hesitance in him, a line he desperately tries not to cross, not from repulsion, but fear. Fear that this was all a dream, that it would be taken away from him in a heartbeat. Fear that you would be taken away, whisked into an unfortunate end like so many others he held dear. Fear for what it meant if he embraced the tempest of feelings he’s long harbored for you.

Fear for what it meant if he held you.

It’s this very fear that’s brought upon the teardrops falling down his face. And oh, how beautiful he looked despite his sorrow. How glad you feel, the sole witness to his spirit, the unwavering bundle of mysteries that makes up who he is.

You hadn’t forgiven him for his words back at the Sanctuary that day, but that would be brought up later, and hopefully by the end of this, banished from your mind, a simple misunderstanding.

For now, with equal tenderness as you would handle a treasure, you wipe away the tears that encompass the flawless canvas that is the Wanderer, and the world seems to stop at the way you both stare at each other, wordless. Words were unnecessary, for the eyes have always been the window to the soul.

His gaze overflows with unspoken words and apologies and the hidden nature of his true intentions. You've no doubt yours holds the same weight.

Stay, his eyes seem to scream. Stay with me.

For once there’s no playful banter, bickering, or any other devices that mask the true nature of your feelings. You can hear the faraway call of the boat’s captain for any passengers heading to Fontaine to come and hurry! but you’ve long made up your mind.

bonus: clear skies after the storm.

“Did you see Hat Guy pull [Name] away like that? Oh, he’s definitely up to no good! Traveler, do you think we need to check on them? He seemed like he wanted something out of them, though… You know how scary he can be if he wants to.”

The chatter of Paimon’s voice flies over his head, with Aether simply dismissing her thoughts.

You didn’t come on the boat after all. But still, he’s not paying heed to Paimon’s words, because it really didn’t seem that way.

In fact, by the way he held your hand, the utter relief he’d seen in the Wanderer’s face when he'd found you, the slight protectiveness he'd displayed over you, and the way your eyes had lit up at the sight of the former Harbinger, Aether could even say that you two were…

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Ah... So it was a lover’s spat.”

“Huh? A lover's spat? What are you talking about now!?”

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost, or plagiarize my work.

#��🤲🏻💗#where’s my kiss?????!!

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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

Text

sick days ; satoru gojo

when 8-year-old megumi falls sick, you and your co-parent / maybe-boyfriend go down a rabbit hole.

gojo satoru x gn reader fluff, child-rearing, confessions, mutual pining (reader & gojo are school friends in their early 20s!)

'regret' was a word you have exiled out of your vocabulary.

it was a part of being a new (unwilling) parent to 2 overly intelligent kids, you supposed; you couldn't regret things.

'regret' was a word that would eat away at their little kid brains and latch on to the wormholes of insecurity in their heads, stretching them out and out into big voids that would probably take over their short, sweet lives. (it was like saying you regret anything would instantly equate to you regretting taking them in, and you couldn't have that.)

generally, your journey navigating the raising of toji fushiguro's children after his death wasn't difficult save for the obvious mental health issues he'd inflicted on his young kids. (you hadn't known the extent of it until megumi pretended he wasn't crying when you forgot to pick him up from school once. it was a real eye-opener.)

but it wasn't like you needed to establish authority. megumi and tsumiki generally followed your word and looked up to you- there were no issues there.

the real root of the problems was your silver-tongued and stupid-looking accomplice, gojo satoru.

you'd never regret taking tsumiki and megumi in. you'd never regret the actions you'd allowed gojo to take against their father. the only thing in the world you really did regret was giving gojo satoru your spare house key.

"who wants cake?"

you return from picking up megumi and tsumiki from school to a kitchen that seemed like it'd been through many small explosions. the smell of smoke hung faintly in the air. gojo loomed behind the counter like a bad omen and you scooted the children behind you warily.

"satoru," you began as if you were scolding a petulant and sulking child, "what are you doing in my house again?"

yes, again. because this was the 3rd day in a row gojo had blown off his missions and all his deep, deep piles of shit at jujutsu high to deal with to come harass you.

"why do you look so upset to see me!" gojo whines as his posture drops dramatically. he feigns a sigh with a hand over his heart. in doing this, he drops the skillet (why does he have a skillet when he's making a cake?) on his toe.

instantly, a stream of firey profanities and angry curses spews from his mouth as he hops around clutching his foot. tsumiki covers megumi's ears. he can still hear everything.

"satoru," you hiss, "not in front of the fucking kids, dude."

the tall man rises back up and shrugs, nonchalantly trying to pretend he hadn't basically been rolling around crying a second before.

despite this being a regular tri-weekly occurrence at this point, you still berate gojo. and by berate him, you just curse him out. megumi and tsumiki shuffle out from behind you with their schoolbags, and gojo beckons them toward the kitchen and to him.

"you're so irresponsible, you dumbass!" gojo places a piece of sweet red velvet cake onto a paper plate for tsumiki. he nods to you sweetly, as if encouraging you to keep going.

"why are you always here, burning down my house, when you have mountains of paperwork to do back at the school? you are a grown-ass man child." another slice is served to megumi.

"you need to get out. now." megumi and tsumiki scurry off to their rooms. gojo has emerged from the kitchen now, and he's nodding encouragingly. he's got an apron on and his sunglasses are shoved in his hair and he looks so strangely domestic that you don't bat an eye at first when he comes behind you and massages your shoulders.

"let it out," he says, and you sigh because his hands really do work through the knots in your back, and jesus christ, is there anything he's not good at?

hold on. just what is he doing?

you flip your hand back, effectively smacking him in the face as you storm into your kitchen and start angry-cleaning. you'd like to curse him out some more but you're so embarrassed and flushed and you know gojo well enough to be certain that he'd notice if you spoke.

"let me help you clean." you don't protest as he starts picking up his own mess alongside you, and there it is again: that familiar premonition, that tick in your chest, and that honey-sweet scent you've grown to call in your mind the 'gojo-sense' because it was a sensation you've only observed around him before.

you've known gojo satoru since day 1 of your schooling at jujutsu technical college, and you've known him every day since then, much to your discretion. unfortunately for you, he was one of your closest friends- so close, in fact, that he'd so kindly offered megumi and tsumiki to you after he found (kidnapped???) them post-toji's death.

(you're pretty sure megumi and tsumiki hadn't been kidnapped. you've grown close to them in the year-ish you've been raising them and you think they'd tell you if they were. you think.)

in all your years of knowing gojo, you could count the times you've felt like you truly understood him on one hand. the count lies at 2.

the first time dates back to his very first time trying alcohol. it was almost the end of your 3rd year, and shoko had snagged a bottle to share with your little group.

you remember gojo being pensive about trying it, and trying to bluff his way out. and you remember the confession that followed, that he'd never tried it before. shoko and geto laughed. you don't remember if you did, too, but you remember gojo looking at you hesitantly before he took his first shot.

and then he almost threw up.

again, your other friends laughed and teased, but you were too caught by the question of 'why did he look at you' to bother.

it didn't help that, during this time, you had a major crush on him. it was gone now, though, you swear.

the second time you think you understood gojo satoru was the night of riko amanai's death. it had happened so fast. you remembered his smile and then you remembered his tears as he cried for the first time in front of you. you remember holding him, your best friend, and then you remember not being able to as infinity filtered between your fingers and blocked you from his skin.

that was the night that gojo satoru vowed to never let anyone through his walls again. you would not be an exception. but unfortunately for him, you were already in his secret garden.

so despite you thinking that gojo had closed you out of his inner world forever, he had a place for you all along. you just didn't know.

the two of you remained heavily ingrained in each other's worlds, despite this rift. you were a package deal, and more often than not gojo could only be found when you were nearby, much to your irritation- and much like right now.

"you still need to get out of my house," you grumbled, but with less drive. this is how it goes every day- gojo appears. you try to get him to leave. he does not. you give up. repeat.

"you gave me your key," he reminds, and you're not looking at him but you can hear his smile. "and i could get in without it, anyways. you can't really do much."

"thanks for informing me about how you're a master burglar. i should report you to the cops."

"as if i couldn't take the police," gojo scoffs. you almost smile.

"regardless of whether you could take the police or not," you say, waving a crusty whisk in his face, "you couldn't take me. so you'd better leave."

(you probably couldn't take gojo in a fight. not that he would ever hurt you but there is no competing with the strongest. but he always listens to you, just like he does at this moment.)

"okay, okay, fine," he relents. he finishes helping you clean and is gone in a blink with his stupid little teleportation ability, and you know you're the one who wanted him to leave but you can't help but feel a little empty now that he's gone.

you know he'll be back soon enough, though. and you're proven right because your phone buzzes with gojo's special ringtone and he's already informing you that he'll be home for dinner and to not finish the cake. this prompts you to glance over to the kitchen counter, where said cake was not there.

you blink, before concluding a ghost probably got it. weirder things have happened in your household. you do feel a little sympathy for the ghost's stomach, though- that amount of sugar would be enough to kill them again.

you shrug your shoulders before carrying on with your life, sitting on the living room couch with your laptop to type out a report about some bullshit you don't care about and how it'll affect sorcerers and whatnot.

it's not until you call megumi and tsumiki out of their rooms for dinner do you realize that it was, in fact, not a ghost that had eaten the cake.

tsumiki arrives at the dinner table first, ever-so-polite, helping you set up 4 places (the extra in case gojo made good of his word and dropped by to eat.)

megumi doesn't arrive until a few minutes later, just as you were about to go collect him from his room. he stumbles out of his door like he'd just fought 7 wars consecutively, his face paler than death and his 4-foot self shaking like a leaf in the wind.

he almost slams into you, with the way he staggers through the hallway to the kitchen. he doesn't meet your eyes as he apologizes profusely, flopping onto a chair like a fish.

almost instantly, the poor boy passes out face-first on the table. you and tsumiki exchange a worried look as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, only to feel that megumi was burning up.

"surprise! did you miss me?"

you shoot gojo a glare as he materializes in the kitchen a few feet away. at his loud and rather irritating voice, megumi usually would've woken, being a light sleeper- but the 8-year-old was still knocked out with his face on his plate like it was a pillow.

"satoru, no offense, but could you keep it down?" tsumiki, ever-the-saint and ever-so-helpful, inquired politely. "megumi's sleeping."

at this, gojo furrows his brow, turning his head to the sleeping child.

"oh."

you can almost see the cogs turning behind gojo's thick skull before he asks: "what's wrong with him?"

you blink at him. "connect the dots, dumbass."

tsumiki laughs awkwardly, quickly grabbing her plate of food before speedwalking away to her bedroom, calling out a quick, "i'll be in my room if you need anything!"

you sigh, unable to blame the poor girl. if you had a choice, you wouldn't want to deal with gojo either.

gojo turns back to you with raised brows. "our family is falling apart. our daughter is running away, and our son is dying."

"that wasn't funny in the slightest."

"i think it was."

you exhale, a half-smile forming on your face. "okay then, mr. comedian, could you help get megumi to his bed?"

gojo doesn't need more prompting. he's already carrying megumi like he weighs less than a feather, with a gentleness you often forget he has. you're even more surprised when you see that gojo's hand actually touching the fabric of the boy's clothes- his infinity is off.

you don't mention it, even though you're sure that gojo knows that you've noticed. you try to ignore the way your heart thunders as you watch from the kitchen as gojo carries megumi to his room, observing from afar as he tucks the boy into his sheets carefully and ruffles his hair. you try not to smile like a fool but you think you do a poor job of hiding it.

when gojo returns to the joint kitchen and living room of your apartment, he pulls himself onto the counter next to you to sit, ignoring the various seats at his disposal.

"well, he's sick."

you snort. "yeah, no kidding."

you're still watching megumi's bedroom door but you can feel gojo's gaze land on you, as it often does. "he'll be okay. don't worry about it too much."

a certain softness warms your heart and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. "yeah. you're right. it's no big deal, he'll be fine."

megumi was not, in fact, fine.

at 6 in the morning, you feel a soft, incessant tapping on your arm. you stir groggily, only to hear a familiar child's voice- megumi's voice.

you sit up, rubbing your eyes as your vision adjusted. you realize you weren't in your bedroom- you were on the living room couch. and gojo satoru was curled up close behind you.

you'll deal with that later, though, because megumi looks like he's on the verge of tears. wordlessly, instantly, you put a hand on his back and kneel down to his eye level. you can see tears welling up in his eyes and concern burns your lungs.

"is everything okay?" your whisper is met by sniffles and you pull the boy into a hug, which he allows, burying his face in your sweatshirt sleeve.

"i'm sorry. i threw up and i don't feel good. sorry."

you might cry too, as you hold him close and rub his back.

"it's okay, don't apologize. i've got you."

at some point, megumi falls back asleep. you hold his sleeping form on your hip as you shake gojo awake. he grumbles and groans until you smack his arm and he stirs.

"what? is everything okay?"

you're almost impressed with how gojo instantly scopes out the situation- from the sleeping, sickly child at your side to your tired, worried expression.

"i have no idea what to do."

you're whispering but you don't have to be, as your guilty confession tumbles out. you're hardly 20 and your child who you got roped into raising is sick. you could hardly function properly yourself, and then you became a parent-ish, and then your kid got sick. to say you were stressed was an understatement.

gojo blinks. you think he understands the weight of your words because he stands swiftly, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"i'm not sure either," he whispers back, "but we can figure it out."

the two of you devise a plan, consisting of googled remedies from mom blogs and random doctor's offices, and gojo's childhood experiences with getting sick.

while he cleaned megumi's room (a task you'd assigned him, seeing as you were already holding megumi and didn't want to wake him, and not because you just really didn't want to), you shuffled through your kitchen to riffle through cabinets and drawers, in search of flu medications, cough drops, or anything that might help.

ultimately, all you came up with were bandages, gauze, and iodine- the lifeblood of a jujutsu sorcerer. you sigh, fighting the urge to slam your head into the wall.

gojo shows up next to you, running a hand through his hair. you'd be flustered if you weren't so irate.

"nothing?"

"nope."

gojo sighs and you're reminded for a second about how scary this must be for him, too. he's only your age, and just as powerless as you. helplessness is not a feeling he must encounter often, so it must be particularly awful when it happens.

you almost feel bad for him, but then a playful grin cracks his face, and he pulls out jingling car keys from his sweatpant pockets.

you narrow your eyes. "oh, no. you are not driving anywhere, not at this time of day. it's still dark out."

gojo clicks his tongue and starts walking to the door. "i'm not driving. we are. think of it as... a road trip! i think i have some medication at my place."

you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "just.. teleport us there, or something? i'd rather die than drive with you again."

"i told you! i'm a good driver! i was just messing with you!"

"you crashed your car into a tree, satoru."

you startle yourself with your use of his first name, but you don't think he notices because he bounces right back.

"it was funny!"

you shake your head. "not happening."

"i can't teleport us."

"why not?"

gojo looks a little guilty at this. you soften. "i don't really trust myself with my abilities anymore. i don't know. it's kind of stupid."

"no, it's not stupid. i mean, i trust you," you try hesitantly, "but if you don't, we can drive."

you put aside your fears of gojo behind the wheel and you're glad you do because he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like the only person alive. "i'm a good driver. swear."

gojo is, to your surprise, not a horrible chauffeur. unlike the first time and last he drove you somewhere, there are no crashes or screaming or anything of the sort.

the streets are quiet with only the occasional car buzzing past. you don't think you've been to gojo's apartment. yours has been the go-to spot for whenever he or shoko would want company.

it's almost a calm ride, with gojo steering wordlessly and megumi snoring softly in the backseat. you're honestly impressed he hasn't woken up yet. you thrum your fingers against the dashboard, pulling one leg underneath you as you sat.

"we're here," gojo states. you glance at him drowsily from the corner of your eye, watching him leave the car and head to the backseat to retrieve megumi. your follow suit and leave the car, gazing up at the towering, swanky apartment building before you.

"this is so above my pay grade," you breathe, "are you sure they'll allow us commoners in here, my liege?"

gojo laughs softly, "no. you might have to wait out on the curb."

the building's lobby is a boring beige, with glass chandeliers providing a dim white light. it feels plasticky and stuffy and you're a little afraid to touch the elevator's buttons because you don't want to break them.

gojo's apartment is no better. the decor is minimalistic, and it hardly looks lived in. the only signs of life are the coffee mugs in the sinks and the jars of candies on top of the fridge.

his apartment might be big and high-end, but it feels so devoid of life, and you suddenly realize why gojo spends most of his time at your place.

it might be small and cluttered but it's warm, and cozy, and lived-in, and god knows that's what gojo needed. you can't imagine how isolated he must be in everyday life. your heart aches.

gojo sets megumi down on the couch with the gentleness of an angel, not that it was needed because in his current state, the boy could sleep through 12 nuclear explosions and then some.

wordlessly, gojo beckons you to follow him to a room situated at the end of the hallway. it's big and just as empty as the previous rooms, with only a dresser and a bed pushed into separate corners.

gojo rustles through the dresser drawers, presumably in search of medicine, but your gaze wanders to something else- the only real decor you've seen in the house.

there are two framed photographs sitting on top of his dresser. you take one in your hands, squinting to make out the image in the dark. you recognize it as yourself, laughing and looking behind the camera. geto and shoko are in the background, walking together on the pier.

you remember this day. it was the last mission of your first year at tokyo jujutsu high, and the four of you had decided to go out and get ice cream. it had begun to rain, but you hadn't cared. in the photo, your hair was clinging to your face but your smile was bright.

you remember the joy of that day more than anything. apparently, gojo did too, because he kept this photo despite it being years in the past.

the second frame contains a blurry photograph. you can't tell what it is at first, but after staring for a moment you realize: it's megumi, you, and tsumiki. megumi is younger in this somehow, despite the fact that it must have only been a few months ago. he's sprawled across your lap, and you just know that he would hate this picture.

tsumiki is sitting on the floor with you attentively, listening to you, as you show her something on your phone. she's smiling and looking at you with such reverence and admiration, and you feel a strange sort of pride.

you put the photo down and feel gojo staring at you. you turn to him, and he holds up a blue bottle- ibuprofen. "i get headaches."

you blink at him. "i like these pictures."

he smiles awkwardly. "yeah, me too."

and maybe it's the fact that it's encroaching on 7 in the morning, and you're delusional from the stress, and maybe this is a bad decision but you turn back to the pictures and smile and say, "i used to have a huge crush on you back in school. like, around when this picture was taken."

gojo doesn't react, staring at your hand as you point to the photo taken in high school. it's silent for a few moments before he speaks. "that's funny, y'know, because i liked you in this one."

you blink as he gestures to the recent photo. you laugh.

"you're so lame. how do you manage to always have the stupidest pick-up lines?"

you wait for gojo to laugh with you, but he keeps looking at you, and you cease your laughter.

"satoru? is everything okay?"

he takes a minuscule step closer and suddenly you're hyperaware of everything- your heartbeat, his face, your skin, you can feel it all.

"i wasn't joking," he says.

"oh."

you feel your heart thunder in your throat. gojo's eyes stare into yours and you look back into his and you have never been more lost for words than you are right now.

gojo takes your silence as a cue to continue.

"i liked you then, and that hasn't changed. you've been with me through basically everything. i don't know how to say this," he fumbles over his words now and you're reminded that you were only a teenager a few years ago, "but you make me feel less alone than i ever have."

if you were to speak at this moment, you wouldn't be sure what would come out of your mouth. so you place your hands on either side of gojo's face and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

it's brief and easy, and it's over before gojo's fully processed what's happened.

but apparently, it was far, far too long because a little voice speaks from the doorway, sounding exasperated beyond his years. "can you guys figure this out later, i feel like i'm dying."

amused, you watch as gojo stumbles to the door holding the blue bottle, and watch him usher megumi over to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

you follow from a few feet away, watching as gojo tries to battle his embarrassment, and savoring it because you're certain that, come morning, he will be absolutely shameless.

you were right. by the time you arrive back to your own apartment, with megumi again asleep in the backseat, he's already discussing pet names and marriage and boasting about how you're lucky because he's just such a good kisser.

tsumiki is near-frantic when you return, and you mentally facepalm for not remembering to shoot her a text explaining your absence. you and gojo spend a good 5 minutes consoling her after placing megumi in his room yet again.

her confusion is only halted when a bolt of realization passes through her, and she manages a smirk that you didn't think she could be capable of.

"why are you guys holding hands?"

you blink, and look down at your right hand, which was currently intertwined with gojo's. you snatch it away and roll your eyes with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

gojo looks shattered.

"what betrayal," he wails, slumping onto you like his bones turned to jelly. you push him off and he lands on the floor sprawled out like a starfish.

"my own partner," he huffs from the ground, "hates me. my life is so hard."

tsumiki's eyes pop out of her skull. "partner? oh my gosh, what did i miss?"

you groan and cover your face with your hands.

a 4th voice chimes in. "don't worry. it wasn't pretty."

megumi stands in the hallway, looking fine as ever, and decidedly not sick.

you blink at him. tsumiki stares. even gojo raises his head off the floor to make sure that the boy was not, in fact, a ghost.

"aren't you sick?" gojo asks.

megumi rolled his eyes. "well, i was, but i'm better now. i think that was your cake from last night. it was so nasty it made me want to die."

you look at gojo. he sits up and shrugs sheepishly.

regret was not a word you use lightly. but right now, you really, really regret letting gojo satoru into your apartment.

author's note: dont think abt the timeline of this too much pls

#LMAO GUMII😭😭🤣

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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

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pairing: s. gojo x reader | next part >

when megumi asks gojo to teach him how to ride a bike, he panics–how would he teach a kid how to ride a bike when he doesn’t know how to ride one either? instead of admitting that, however, gojo goes out and buys a kids’ bike with training wheels, reassuring megumi that ‘of course he knows how to ride a bike, he’s the best cyclist in the world’! megumi doubts him the moment gojo’s confident facade falls and he eyes the bike weirdly.

you’re in the bath at your small apartment when gojo calls you, saying he desperately needs you. you immediately jump out of the tub and dry yourself as you attempt to simultaneously throw on your uniform. when you get to gojo’s place, you quickly look around in fear that something is wrong only to find little megumi and tsumiki crowded around a gaudy blue bike. megumi looks up at you, a bike helmet a size too big pulled over his messy hair.

“are you going to teach me how to ride a bike?” he asks as he scratches at the velcro straps on his knee pads.

huh?

everything clicks into place when gojo comes around the corner with unnecessary biking equipment piled high in his arms. you grit your teeth. of course gojo would ask you to teach megumi how to ride a bike, you and suguru were the only ones who knew how to ride one in the first place. you didn’t think it was too useful of a skill when you and your classmates were younger, especially after the young gojo clan head had called you a country bumpkin for knowing how to ride a bike, but you suppose it was important enough that gojo would deliberately go out of his way to get you to teach a kid how to bike.

as gojo deposits everything in his arms, you crouch down to megumi’s height with a smile on your face, pushing your still wet hair out of your eyes. you reach forward and adjust megumi’s helmet.

“how long have you been biking with training wheels?” you ask, pulling the helmet straps a little tighter and clipping them into place.

megumi purses his lips as he looks away to think. “a few weeks,” he says, “i want to be the first one in my grade to know how to ride a bike without training wheels, though.” you let out a little laugh as megumi tucks his chin away from you, his cheeks a soft pink.

“alright, megumi, i’ll make sure that you’re the first person in your grade to ride a bike.” you extend your pinky towards him, “i pinky promise,” you say, tilting your head with a bright smile. megumi shyly links his pinky with yours as your smile widens.

teaching megumi how to ride a bike is hard. gojo hovers over your shoulder as you run behind megumi as he pedals on his bike, watching with a small unhidden grimace every single time you let go of the back of the blue bike and tell megumi to ‘keep going’! not only does having gojo next to you make it significantly harder to instruct megumi, but you also have to listen to him attempt to console and give wrong advice to the kid.

you groan outwardly as megumi topples over on his bike a few feet away from you. as gojo begins to walk towards him, you bring your arm up and block him.

“satoru,” you warn, “if you continue to give megumi wrong advice again i will fucking punch you.” you turn towards him and glare sharply. “let me do this.”

you walk towards megumi and gojo falters, watching as you take the boy into your arms and pat the dirt off of him and make sure his knee pads are on tightly. the evening wind blows through your and megumi’s hair as you crouch down and pick up the ugly, scratched bike and help megumi settle back onto it. tsumiki stands up from the park bench she’s seated at and makes her way towards gojo, watching as you and megumi begin to race even further down the park’s bicycle only section. you let go and cheer loudly as megumi finally gets the hang of it, jumping up and down before bounding after him as he bikes around and around.

“i like them,” tsumiki tells gojo, letting gojo reach down and pull her hair out of her face as the wind begins to pick up even more.

“me too,” he admits softly, watching you and megumi turn around, listening as your and megumi’s elated laughter fills the empty park.

#GUMI CHAN 🥺🥺💗

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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

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Sorry it's been a while 🥹.. studying is torturing me 🥲 but I won't stop writing..

I have a lot of ideas and Idk which one to start with. ♡

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #fanfic #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #levi x y/n #levi x you #attack on titan #captain levi

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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

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you're a pain in the neck. (literally.)

premise. in which you make a nuisance of yourself in every train ride you share with scaramouche. (inexplicably, he doesn't stop sitting next to you anyway.)

note. we pretend i didn't disappear for months :D enjoy

Neck pain has been increasingly common in Scaramouche's life these days.

The cause of which is sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, snoring softly as the train rattles past. The way you remain deep in slumber despite the constant lurching is impressive, but your knack for unwittingly making yourself a menace to society is even more spectacular.

Scaramouche takes a deep breath—Kazuha always did advise him to be more patient—yet the moment he does, tufts of your hair curl against his skin. A flush rises to his cheeks, body caught between freezing in place and jolting out of his seat, but he digs his fingers to his thighs and wills himself to dispel the urge to shoot upright, in fear of...

In fear of what? Shocking you awake?

Nonsense. He's never been that considerate.

(Still, once the tension bleeds from his body, he lets his shoulders drop, fitting your head snugly against the crook of his neck. He grabs your phone from your loose grip, tucks it securely in your pocket, and allows himself to stare at the dark circles beneath your eyes.

He can let himself worry for a bit.)

“What's wrong with you?” Kazuha's concerned gaze settles over Scaramouche's hunched figure, slumped miserably on the desk. His head is craned in a particular angle, and Childe, obnoxious as he is, had erupted in boisterous laughter when Scaramouche entered the lecture hall tilted the very same way. Unfortunately, Scaramouche had been too sore to swat away Childe's phone as he took a picture of him in a zombie filter.

“Got a crick in my neck.”

Kazuha frowns. “Did you sleep badly again?”

Scaramouche scoffs in defeat. “You could say that.”

The next time he sees you enter the train, you're drenched.

You make an effort to dry yourself, wiping rainwater out of your hair with a handkerchief and packing your wet jacket in your bag, but you're still undeniably soaked. Some passengers don't bother to hide their distaste, scooting away to other vacant seats as they shoot you a scornful look. Others aren't so cruel, offering packets of tissues and initiating small talk over the worsening weather. Scaramouche watches as your apologetic expression turns into one of gratitude, sheepishly admitting to the nice aunties you forgot to check the forecast.

Scaramouche doesn't quite give you a spare towel or send you a reassuring smile, but he broods silently from where he sits beside you, scowling at the impudent lot now sitting far, far away. Insolent fools, tactless jerks, ill-mannered garbage—a barrage of insults fly in his head, ones he has learned not to verbalize lest he gets in trouble for his crass mouth again.

When the train pauses to his stop, he pulls out a foldable umbrella from his bag, still seething. He hands it out to you, not making eye contact as he's still glaring at the woman giving you a side-eye. “Take this.”

“Uh...?” Perplexed, you hesitantly accept it. “But...”

“It's fine.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, walking toward the sliding doors. “So don't come here drenched in the rain next time.”

He doesn't get to hear your response as he speeds off.

“I'm an asshole.”

“Is this your moment of self-discovery?”

“Congratulations.”

Scaramouche's eyebrow twitches, but he's much too panicked to make a snarky quip to fire back. It's his fault for picking the wrong people to talk to, anyway—Heizou is a smartass and Xiao has a perpetual stick up his ass. He should've confided to the empathetic Aether instead, or to Venti who gives surprisingly good advice when you least expect it.

“So what made you realize it?” Heizou bites down on a pork cutlet, apparently finished with his daily quota for pissing him off and now fulfilling his obligations as a friend. “Did something happen?”

“Does it have anything to do with how you arrived soaking wet to class?” Xiao adds, poking the tofu on his plate.

“Perhaps you tried stealing an umbrella on your way here?”

“You got it backwards, dumbass. I gave away mine,” Scaramouche scowls.

“That sounds like you did a good thing, then. What's wrong?”

The way he gave it away so roughly. The way he said you could use it so condescendingly. How he'd forgotten to offer words of comfort, no matter how painful or awkward for him, because he'd been so absorbed in pointless matters. How he'd completely ruined his chances of being friends with you by acting like an indifferent jerk.

All because he was too embarrassed to say he's worried you'll catch a cold from the rain.

When Scaramouche takes the train the way home, it's him who's dripping rainwater everywhere.

Karma had gotten his new umbrella stolen from the rack, it seems. He just bought it from the convenience store, damn it.

So now he stands by the doors, too reluctant to go any further inside the train. His wet sneakers squeak beneath his feet, hair sticking uncomfortably on his forehead. His shirt clings to him like second skin, and the only thing retaining his modesty (because of course he falls prey to downpour the one time he wears a white button-up) is a heavy sweater vest soaked in water.

“So much for telling me not to come here when I'm drenched.”

A small towel drapes itself over his head, and Scaramouche quickly turns on his feet. Your mouth is curled into a grin when you step to the spot by his side, but not unkindly—you aren't here to mock him or return his cruel words.

Scaramouche grabs the towel sitting atop his head, drying his hair with it. As he does so, you make no move to leave even with plenty of vacant seats remaining unoccupied.

“... Aren't you going to sit?”

“Hm? No.” You're already holding onto a handrail, staring ahead.

“...Why not?”

“I'm keeping you company.”

???

“Oh, and your umbrella.” You fish it from your bag, holding it out for him to take. “Cute pattern, by the way.”

“Wha-” he's about to say ‘what are you talking about,’ but then he sees the cute star print, the gold sparkles bright against navy blue, and his hair rises on end, face flushing a deep red. Nahida was the one who packed it for me...!

“...Cute.”

“I heard you the first time,” he grumbles under his breath, accepting it from your hand.

An endeared smile crosses your face, one that he doesn't see as he stuffs the umbrella into his backpack.

I wasn't talking about the umbrella.

Scaramouche has always made it a habit to take the train before rush hour, but his report is due today, and so he slept for a grand total of two hours last night just to finish it. It wouldn't even be two hours if he hadn't slept through his alarm, but he wishes he'd woken up earlier; if it meant he could've avoided a crowded train, he could stand to lose some minutes of sleep.

“Can you move a bit?”

“Ow, ow...”

“Sorry, I stepped on your foot!”

“I hope nobody comes in at the next stop...”

Scaramouche empathizes with the last remark in particular, because he really couldn't handle it any more.

Presently, he's staring at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention. His neck is starting to hurt but he forces himself to face upwards, otherwise he would...

“This is tough, isn't it?” You laugh awkwardly, your chuckle turning into a wince when an elbow digs to your side. The train car is packed at full capacity, and you wouldn't be exaggerating if you were to say you felt like you were drowning in a sea of people.

“That's a massive understatement,” Scaramouche replies, wishing for death.

“Sorry. I can't go any farther than this.”

“It's fine.”

Actually, nothing is fine.

Scaramouche is trapped against the wall in the farthest location from the exit, surrounded by people from all sides, his stop is two stations away, and he has no idea how he's going to swim all the way through the doors.

Oh, and he's caged between your arms, pressed against your body, and feeling very much like a pervert for sniffing your scent, but it's simply impossible not to smell you at this close proximity (however, it's entirely his fault for thinking you smell good and trying to pinpoint what cologne you use).

Your head is resting on his shoulder, and Scaramouche learns quickly this position is a lot more embarrassing when you're conscious. And fuck, this time he can feel you breathe directly against his neck, puffs of hot air blowing on his reddened skin, and he can only hope for the best you can't sense his racing heartbeat.

You're too goddamn close, even though he can tell you're exerting your utmost effort to create some distance between your bodies. Your arms are straining pushing on the wall just so you wouldn't crush him under your weight, and as much as he should appreciate it, he can hardly think straight over the sound of his pulse in his ears. He's hanging precariously over the edge, and if he crosses his limit, he might just pass away on the spot.

Hell, if he so as much looks down, he's close enough to kiss your forehead, and-

He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

So yeah. Scaramouche may look like an idiot facing the ceiling, but at least he isn't at risk of cardiac arrest.

It's fine. This is fine. I'm one stop away. I can survive this. Just a little more.

But the gods above must hate his guts or something because the train screeches to a rough halt at the station, the car rattles violently, and you're squirming underneath him, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you, but your head moves to look up at him and-

Scaramouche very nearly astral projects to another plane when he feels your lips graze against his chin.

“Hey, you okay?! Did you hit your head on the wall or something?”

He feels like he did. He's so dizzy and the world is spinning around him, but at the same time you're the only one he can see. This must be unhealthy, Scaramouche thinks, and he wonders how much blood has rushed to his head, coloring his cheeks bright pink, and if he can die from losing too much blood this way.

“Kuni?”

How do you know my name, Scaramouche isn't sure if he really says it, mind still whirring with thoughts, and oh god his hands are still on your waist-

“Your umbrella had a name tag...” You squint at the neon letters displaying the current station, “Hey, your stop is here, isn't it? Excuse me! Coming thro....”

He vaguely remembers your hands pushing him forward and the crowd parting obediently to make way for him when they see his face becoming visibly ill. The rest passes in a blur, and when Scaramouche finally comes to, he's already outside the train station.

For a brief moment, he stays frozen. Then by the corner of his eye, he notices the shopping center.

He stares at the pastel decor from the cosmetic store, approaches the vanity mirror, and if possible, his mind turns even more blank.

A faint kiss mark is stark against his chin, the same color as the lip tint you wear everyday.

“I'm not going.”

Venti sighs, disappointed but not surprised. “You never go to drinking parties with me. Why do you always head straight home after class?”

“Reasons.” Scaramouche closes his laptop and slides it inside his bag, making quick work of packing his things. “In your case, I'd advise you to go less. Being an alcoholic isn't a good look.”

“My liver is strong,” Venti insists, a cheeky grin dancing on his lips. “But seriously, what's up? Don't tell me you have a secret girlfriend you meet up with after class?”

“I was starting to think the same thing,” Aether pipes up, matching curious looks with Venti. “Or maybe you have a boyfriend? Either way, what are they like?”

“I have neither,” Scaramouche grumbles, coming off more pitiful than spiteful. “And I'm coming home early today because Nahida wanted me to get something for dinner.”

“Ehh, that's boring.”

“You're the ones making assumptions by yourselves!” Scaramouche snaps, treading towards the door. “I'm leaving. Don't call me to pick you up when you're wasted, it's Xiao's turn this week.”

“Okay, enjoy your date~”

Scaramouche doesn't even bother replying.

You get on the train scheduled for 4:15 everyday.

It's not that Scaramouche deliberately researched this information; he really did just catch the same train rides by chance. Over time, he began to recognize you as a familiar face, and eventually, he even became your headrest.

Not by choice, but he supposes he just has to live with it.

It's not that Scaramouche intentionally takes the same train so he could see your face. At least, that's what he tells himself as he silently pressures the retail cashier to scan his items faster and practically flies out the convenience store to rush for the train.

He glances at his wristwatch. 4:11. I'll make it. He breathes a sigh of relief, and checks the shopping list Nahida texted for good measure. Curry mix, milk, a carton of eggs...

A notification sound rings from his phone.

‘Sorry for the late notice, could you get pudding for dessert too?’

Shit.

Panic flares in his eyes and he spins on his heel, returning to the convenience store. Do I sprint? No, it's still not humanly possible to buy pudding and go back in four minutes... But I could try. Wait, wasn't there a line of customers behind me earlier? I'd still have to wait in line.

Finally, he stops running. This is stupid. Why am I working so hard just to catch this train, anyway?

Before he could even properly sulk about it, Scaramouche bumps into someone hurrying for the train. “Oh, sorry! I wasn't looking-”

Much to his surprise, your face comes into view when he looks, chest heaving for breath. You look like you've been running for a good while, hair in disarray from the wind, the reading glasses perched on your nose askew. And that's how Scaramouche knows you're in a real hurry, if you didn't even have the time to put on your contacts.

“It's okay,” Scaramouche quickly replies, stepping aside out of your path. “The train is still there, don't sweat it.”

He turns to the convenience store, mood lifted. I got to see them, so I guess this way is fine, too.

When Scaramouche returns from shopping, he comes back to a strange sight.

“Huh?”

“What are you looking at?”

Good question.

Why was he looking at your figure, still waiting for the next train to come by?

“No, well...” The plastic bags in his hand crinkle when he tightens his grip on them. Scaramouche blinks repeatedly, trying to see if you'll somehow fizzle out of existence if he closes his eyes enough. “You definitely could've made it in time for the train, so why are you still...”

Your lips stretch to a small smile. “I didn't.”

No. You definitely did.

You were at a distance where it'll only take three minutes max to reach the train even if you walked the same pace as a turtle. So why...

“Your face can be surprisingly expressive sometimes, Kuni. You're practically a walking question mark right now.”

“Ku-” He stops himself from speaking before his voice could crack.

“Sorry, you don't like me calling you that?” You're tilting your head at him, putting on puppy eyes. Oh no.

“...No. It's fine.” Damn it. Aether was right—he really is a softie.

However, he's still busy pondering. Sure, it's a stroke of luck and Scaramouche won't look a gift horse in the mouth, but why didn't you take your usual train? You were even running towards the station, arriving with wind-tousled hair and disheveled clothes.

“I was waiting.”

Scaramouche blinks. “For what?”

You stare at him in disbelief, like you seriously can't believe he doesn't know. That's when Scaramouche notices some things about you are a little different from earlier.

Your hair is fixed now, no strands randomly sticking up in the air. Your clothes are neat and tidy too, creases patted down. Your glasses are gone, and Scaramouche isn't sure if it's just his mind playing tricks on him or the color of your lips appears more vibrant from earlier.

He flinches when a sigh escapes you. But then the frown on your face is replaced with a dazzling smile, exasperated but fond.

“Who do you think I'm waiting for, dummy?”

BONUS: A look into the future.

“Has anyone ever told you your chin is really sharp?” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath, movements heavily restricted when your arms are wrapped tightly around his torso and the edge of your chin is stabbing his neck. Cooking breakfast proves to be a lot more of a challenge when a koala is clinging on his back.

“No,” you chirp, grinning ear to ear as you watch him stir the pancake batter over his shoulder. “Has anyone ever told you how cute you look in an apron?”

Scaramouche glowers. “No.” If a living person actually did, they wouldn't be for long.

“That's good.” If possible, you squeeze him even tighter, nuzzling against his face. “I want to keep the adorable Kuni to myself.”

“Disgusting.”

So he says as he leans his head closer when you peck him on the cheek.

Some things just never change, he guesses.

#he’s so 😩😩😩

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fluorenaliy · 11 months ago

Note

Hello again! 😆💗,

Thank you very much for fulfilling my request!😩. I did not expect you to fulfill it so quickly, and this made me very happy. It was funny and CUTE 💗.

Well, I have a lot of ideas, but Idk how to write them but I think it will not be as fun when I read it from someone else’s writing. 🫳🏻

It is the same idea. Fem!TitanReader X Levi, The events take place when Annie kidnapped Eren, and the reader chases her in her titan form, but Annie was able to escape after leaving the reader with dangerous injuries, and she was left alone because there wasn’t enough time to treat her until the mission was over, and Captain Levi didn’t find her among the soldiers or treatment tents, so he decided to go back to look for her, and when he found her, she was still in her titan form. She fainted and half of her limbs were still trying to regenerate.

💗(Thank you for fulfilling my first request. If you have some time, I hope you will fulfill the second request, so I can be silent in peace. Lol)

════════════════════════════════════════

Shifting Scares

════════════════════════════════════════

During the 57th expedition beyond the walls, everyone was on edge. While Commander Erwin hadn’t specified all the details for their plan, a select few knew the danger this put young Eren Jeager in.

In order to use him as bait to draw out the ‘abnormal’ titan hiding amongst their ranks, they’d need all the protection they could get. So naturally, they’d tasked you; their secondary titan shifter, to stick close to the young boy.

As plans shift and fail, you’re left with no choice but to take on the threat single handedly until help could arrive. But no one knew the danger this would place you in, until it was nearly too late.

════════════════════════════════════════

Pairing: Levi x Titan shifter! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, language, fluff, s2

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

════════════════════════════════════════

A/N: Awe ofc lovely! I’m so glad you enjoyed the first one, and I hope I did part 2 justice!

Sorry for such a long wait. Work got in the way and I had some personal issues that really took me for a turn, but here I am!

Enjoy ~

════════════════════════════════════════

Part 1/ish

“Eld, you’re taking the lead from here. Tether the horses and get Eren out of here until I give the signal.”

The second in command gave a brisk nod in return, then turned his attention back to the front.

Just behind him, you gripped the reins holding you to your horse tighter and grit your teeth. It had been a close call, for the past several minuets. Really, it had felt like hours; galloping at top speeds to escape the grasp of the titan behind you all. You’d lost count of just how many times you’d felt her ginormous calloused fingers brushing your back through your cloak.

You’d understood why you had been placed at the rear or the Special Operations Squad. You knew it was to cover the flank and provide even more security for the young boy in front of you. But damnit if you hadn’t been scared shitless the whole time despite your agreement.

Chancing a glance back towards the front, you caught your Captain’s eye. He stared seemingly into your soul from the front of the small formation, as thought he was looking past your gaze and into your very mind. After assessing you a moment longer, he gave you a small nod. One you had a hard time returning.

“L/N, you know the drill. Watch their six. Should anything happen, you’re to act as defense.”

“‘Course, Captain,” You mumbled, trying to shoot him a smile. Though it looked more panicked than reassuring in his eyes.

Looking you over one last time with a flash of what you could have sworn was concern, he turned back to the front and crouched up onto the back of his mare and gripped the handles of his odm gear and shot off up into the forrest surrounding your path. A moment of silence accompanied his departure, and you couldn’t help but worry for his safety above your own as he returned to the Commander’s side.

Humanity’s strongest or not, the lot of you had never gone toe to toe with another shifter.

The silence followed you all up until you came to stop near a large oak, where you dismounted your own mare at Eld’s call and prepared to tether her to the tree.

“Don’t worry sweety, you’re well out of danger here,” you murmured to your loyal steed, petting across her forelock gently before shooting up into the trees with the rest of your squad.

Grappling onto the first of many branches that would bring you nearest the top of the large tree, you glanced over at Eren with a smirk as you pressed down on the lever of your gas containers; a wordless competition for a race.

Sensing your mischief, Eren rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t quite hide the interest he took in your silent challenge.

Racing through the thick limbs, you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself despite the dread this mission had placed the entirety of the Corps in. But a little fun far away from the danger might help ease the boy’s mind, right?

And maybe yours, too.

The two of you touched down nearly in synch, catching your breath as you playfully shoved at one another’s shoulders with mumbles of disagreements for who’d won.

Hearing someone clear their throat, you both stopped and stared ahead with wide eyes. The rest of the SOS had made it up to the top before the both of you, much to your disgruntlement.

“Oi, you shifters…or whatever they’re calling you now; you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Oulo grumbled out, folding his arms loosely across his chest.

Shrugging your shoulders with a careless smile, you strode past him and jumped over to an adjacent branch and took a seat with your back propped against the trunk.

“Just lessening the tension,” you sighed, closing your eyes a moment.

“Lessening the tension, my ass. You act as childish as Jeager.”

“Hey!” Eren scrunched up his face and jutted his chin, squaring his shoulders as though ready for a fight.

“Oulo that’s enough!” Petra cried, shooting her companion a glare. “Captain Levi said that Commander said this was of utmost importance, so you’d better act like it!”

“Of course it’s of most importance dear Petra, I just don’t see why Captain placed me here among you children instead of taking me with him for assistance.” Oulo clicked his tongue in annoyance, his posture aloft and dismissive.

“Assistance in what? Impersonations?” Gunther scoffed from his place leaned against one of the thick tree trunks with a humored grin.

“Wh-I do not…”

“You do, Oulo.”

You smirked to yourself on the opposite branch. Their banter never failed to boost your moral. Especially now with so much clouding your mind.

You listened in as Eren jumped into the banter, and observed how the conversation took a more somber mood a moment later. With a grunt you stood and brushed yourself off, waltzing your way closer to your companions.

“Eld’s right, we’re in some weird shit right now. But don’t you worry Eren, we’ve got this under control,” you comforted the younger man with a grin.

He returned your smile, seemingly more at ease now with the reassurance of his friends. His shoulders were less tense now, and his hands finally fell from their fists.

With a frown you lowered your gaze to your boots. You understood his rage towards the beast. A devil, really. Another shifter in Paradis; only, this one was bloodthirsty and dangerous.

Hearing all those strangled cries behind you on the trail, accompanied by sickening crunches from bones snapping into pieces and tearing through flesh…It sickened you, made you see red as your hands shook. You’d had to restrain yourself as much as Eren from breaking formation then and there to take her out.

So many lives lost…So many you had to repay…

A sharp crack off in the distance startled you from your thoughts.

Turning to face the direction your comrades all stared off at, you saw a plume of black smoke shoot up over the tree line.

“A flair signal,” Eren gasped.

“That’s our cue. It’s gotta be Captain’s signal to regroup. We’ll head that way immediately,” Eld addressed you all, finally a small smile tugging at his thin lips.

“This’ll all be over soon. Gunther, watch the rear with Y/N. Petra, Oulo, stay at Eren’s sides. I’ll take the lead.”

“Sir yes sir!” You chirped, already clipping your handles to your blades. Taking a stand beside Gunther, you shot him a grin as you watch the others shoot off into the forrest ahead of you.

“No crazy stunts, L/N. Not till we’re back in HQ.” Gunther chuckled, loosening up more now as he shot off ahead of you.

Rolling your eyes, you leapt from the tree to catch up. “Yeah yeah. You keep Oulo and Petra under control, I’ll keep Eren and myself sane.”

As the forest flew past you in a blur, and your friends in front of you continued to banter back and forth through the air, you allowed yourself a deep breath of relief.

So far, everything had gone to plan…

════════════════════════════════════════

“Levi, restock on your gas and blades then regroup with your squad. We must get Eren out of here as soon as possible.”

Scoffing under his breath, Levi watched as the carnage below nearly drowned out his Commander’s order. As the titans ravaged the unknown shifter’s steaming corpse only meters below him, the Captain ran a hand down his face in frustration.

“My tanks are full, and my blades were replenished earlier. I’ll be fine,” He countered, shooting a raised brown over at the tall blonde.

Erwin didn’t budge, his sharp gaze fixated on the scene below. “That’s an order, Levi. Restock, then regroup,”

Assessing Erwin only a second longer, Levi clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

With that he shot down to the ground some ways away from the titans and quickly topped off his gas containers and placed new blades into the metal scabbards at his sides, before loading up a flair gun and taking off the way he’d come.

No matter how fast he flew through the trees scanning for any clues as to where his squad had gone, he couldn’t escape the rush of worries running through his mind.

If she escaped, she could be ahead of me…with them. If she didn’t, then we threw lives away for nothing yet again.

If she did manage to escape, and I don’t reach my squad in time…

Levi shook his head and grit his teeth, pressing down harder on the gas trigger.

No, I will reach them in time. I haven’t given the signal yet, so they haven’t moved from the trees. They shouldn’t have…They haven’t. They’re still there. She still there-

Levi’s train of thought was quickly interrupted as a shape came into view amongst the trees. A deafening crack bounced off the trees around him, with a light akin to lightning illuminating his surrounding more then they already were. A shift had occurred, no doubt, but from who, he had no way of knowing.

Through the yellow hue, Levi came to a brief stop near the object and sucked in a breath.

Twisted in his own wires, the lifeless gaze of Gunther’s eyes stared back at his face.

With newfound urgency, Levi was once again shooting through the trees.

I ‘was’ too late. She ‘did’ get ahead of me…

A second crack lit up the forrest, making Levi’s hands grip his handles all the more tightly as he listened to the undeniable scream of Eren’s rage resonating through forrest. Damnit, where were they…

Grunted curses flew from his lips nearly as fast as he shot through the trees, desperately scanning both the tree tops and the floor below for any sign of movement. Or dare he think, any sign of what might remain.

A scream he knew all too well filled his ears as he entered a clearing in the wood, knocking him from his line of focus. Whipping his gaze this way and that, he was unable to see where she might have gone. Instead, all he saw were the broken remains of his squad lying about in heaps across the trampled ground.

Goddamnit Y/N…Not you too…

════════════════════════════════════════

What felt like days might have only been hours. Or even just minuets. Every second that passed you by only reminded you of the pain that coursed through every limb.

And still I failed…

Of course the flair signal had been a trap. You should have seen that coming. As Gunther fell victim before your very eyes, and the figure weaving in and out of sight to your left finally took form in the shape of the dreaded shifter, you’d lost yourself to panic a second longer than you should have.

As you were corned in the clearing, it took Eld’s spine snapping into two for you to shake yourself out of your panic. You’d failed to act as defense before now, but you’d be damned if you let this devil claim you all.

You shifted quickly, screaming at Eren to run. Your transformation distracted the female titan just long enough for Oulo and Petra to blind and immobilize her.

But not long enough for them to completely escape.

You’d charged her with a shriek, determined to avenge your fallen squad. Blow after blow you delivered and received, but never once did you waver.

Even when her stronger jaw bit clean through your arm, severing the limb halfway up the humorous. Even when your legs were clawed from your hips and your face torn nearly in half.

Even then, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Briefly you registered Eren charging in behind you as you clung to the female titan, ripping through the skin of his hand to kickstart his own transformation. You could do nothing but watch as he tackled her, and in turn you. With your broken body flung to the side, you were unable to dodge the next blow thrown your way. The hardened skin of the titan’s heel came crashing down only a foot away from your nape, making your world go completely black.

Now, unable to claw your way out of your titan, you were left steaming in the woods. Unable to move, unable to call for help.

Whether Eren had defeated her, you feared you’d never know. Regardless of the outcome, you started to think that maybe this fate that had befallen you was well deserved.

What good was a shifter like you when you couldn’t even complete an order?

The sound of wire cables anchoring into the trees somewhere around you caught your attention. Though you couldn’t see through titan’s eyes, you could still hear. Straining to listen, you heard the zipping of cables cease, only to be replaced by rushed footsteps and a panicked call.

Another moment of silence followed, in which you were only slightly aware of a presence standing on your titan’s back. Blinding light filled your senses, and you felt your body being forcefully removed from the wreckage.

Finally able to see, you turned your head with a grunt to see just who had pulled you out.

Forehead damp with sweat and evaporating titan blood, hands shaking as they held you up into a seated position with a pained grunt. You squinted your eyes and furrowed your brow.

“L-levi?”

“You don’t have the energy to talk, brat. You’re not healing as fast as you normally do.” Levi grumbled, observing your steaming body.

A raspy chuckle escaped your chapped lips despite yourself. “Probably cause I got stepped on. Should have seen what I did to her though.”

“I did. She escaped.” He replied bluntly, picking you up with ease as he stood.

Letting your head fall against his shoulder, you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t act fast enough. If I had…t-the squad…she wouldn’t have gotten away-“

“I said you don’t have the energy to talk brat. Focus on healing yourself while I rush us back to the front. They’ve started to depart, and I’ll be damned if we’re left stranded out here alone.”

Humming half heartedly in agreement, you closed your eyes as you felt him shoot back up into the trees. For a minute, you did try to focus on healing. But at the moment, that felt impossible.

No, undeserving.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t save them.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” The soft tone of his voice surprised you, making you peer up at him.

“You did what you could. And it’s more than any of us could have done. Both you and Eren will be returned to base soon enough. I’m just glad you survived.”

“But the others…Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oulo…”

You felt him physically shudder at their names being spoken. Undoubtedly, you knew he had seen what you had. Shying away from his gaze, you kept your eyes on your steaming skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed, coming to a stop by grappling into the nearest tree and kneeling against the bark with a pained huff. “I wasn’t there in time. Not only did the bitch get away, but it left you injured in the process. I never wished for you to end up in this state.”

You examined his face, what of it you could see as he turned away. The pain etched into every mark lining his furrowed brow only made you feel worse.

“I won’t end up like this again, and that’s a promise. I’ll get stronger, I’ll be better,” you whispered, gently tugging at his chin to make him meet your eye.

“It won’t be like this next time. I’ll train more, prepare more…so that I can save more.”

Finally, his frown let up and his brow relaxed. Cradling you more firmly against him, he caged you in his arms and shot his wires into the next tree. To your surprise, he looked down to meet your eye before taking off again; this time, with a hint of a smile.

“Well unless this training idea of yours involves setting me up in another damned tree without my gear, I’ll be there with you. Every step of the way.”

#🥺🥺🥺💗💗💗🤲🏻🤲🏻🤧🤧🤧

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