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shalomniscient · 7 months

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hiii i have a request 🥹🥹 if possible, could you write a comfort fic with himeko or kafka and reader? reader who has trouble sleeping or has been exhausted from missions, going straight to himeko's room after returning to the astral express and just melting into her arms. or, reader who hasn't seen kafka in a while and just really misses her, needs her to put her mind at ease, so kafka drops by the express unexpectedly and spends the night taking care of reader. can be either sfw or nsfw, I dont mind either 🥹

omg this is so cute! i’ll do both ;)

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS || hsr x reader

cw. nudity

notes. dunno why i felt the need to mention this but this fic operates on established relationship between reader/character, just fyi :)

HIMEKO

Trailblazing was never going to be easy. You knew this, and you accepted it. To walk the path of Akivili was to lend a helping hand to whosoever needed it. And you do enjoy it—the feeling of making a change in the vast universe, shoulder to shoulder with companions that you would give your life for, and who would do the same for you. You wouldn’t give up your spot on the Astral Express for the world.

But you are only human, at the end of the day.

You’ve been taking back-to-back missions recently, and it’s slowly taking its toll on you. As a more experienced Nameless with many years under your belt, your assistance is slightly more prized over the younger crew—not to say they were incapable. Dan Heng and March alone made a terrifying duo, which was only exacerbated when Stelle joined the mix. But at the end of the day, they’re still a little green and wet behind the ears, so any of the harder jobs tend to fall to you or Welt. And with Welt supervising them on the Luofu, that just left you.

Your footsteps are heavy as you drag yourself back onto the Express. There’s a rip in your jacket from where a Mara-struck soldier tried to slash at you, and several small cuts all over your fingers from the cutting wind of the Disciples. The Luofu had commissioned your blade to quell the number of Mara-struck still roaming around, but for every six you strike down, another dozen seem to take their place.

You sigh as you flop onto one of the many couches on the Express, letting your weapon clatter onto the ground. You’re sore, tired, and aching—all you want to do now is sink into your pillows and sleep, but you have to clean up first. You shut your eyes with another weary noise, deciding to rest up a little before heading to your cabin. Or, shared cabin, rather.

A gentle tap on your shoulder stirs you from your brief rest. You crack your eyes open, and are met with a gentle, golden gaze—it’s Himeko. She’s foregone her usual attire, instead dressed in simple nightwear now, a blanket around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you rasp out. “Were you about to go to bed?”

She shakes her head, smiling softly. “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Ah. Sorry, I must’ve kept you up for a while then.”

“It’s alright,” Himeko says, picking up your weapon off the ground, and placing it inside one of the secure compartments beneath the seats. “I was working on some designs, anyway.”

Then she rises back up, and reaches out to cup your face. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch. Then she pulls away, and you nearly whine in protest, before she extends the same hand to you. “Come. Let me care of you tonight.”

You take her hand without hesitation, your fingers slotting perfectly in between hers. You let her lead you to your shared cabin, near the back of the train cart. The door slides open with a small hiss, and the scent of warm, freshly brewed coffee fills your lungs. It’s a comforting, distinctly Himeko scent that you feel some of the tension in your shoulders bleed out.

Her fingers work deftly as they undo the buttons of your clothes, and she frowns when she notices the rip in your jacket.

“I got a little sloppy,” you explain weakly, with a tired grin. Himeko rolls her eyes, but folds it neatly and sets it on the edge of the bed, no doubt to be repaired by the next day.

“As long as you’re unharmed,” she murmurs, working on your shirt now. Your hands rest on her hips as she divests you of the rest of your clothes, until you’re in nothing but your underwear. “The bath is ready. I’ll be there soon.”

You nod, and drag your exhausted limbs to the bath. You strip fully, and then sink into the warm, bubbly water, audibly groaning as the heat from the bath seeps into your aching muscles. The small cuts along your hands sting a little, but you know Himeko must’ve mixed in some antiseptic to ensure no infections take root.

Himeko walks in a little later, and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, smiling as she takes in your relaxed appearance. She brushes some hair out of your eyes, then reaches over for the shampoo and conditioner, tucked away in another small, secure compartment. The Express is littered with them, so things can be stored safely and not make a mess of the train during jumps.

You feel like dissolving when Himeko starts to wash your hair, expert fingers massaging your scalp wonderfully. Her hands--hands that fix, hands that mend--travel from the base of your neck up to the back of your skull, then along your temples, before repeating over again. It's incredible, the way she can put you back together so easily. She chuckles when she notes your reaction.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?”

You can only manage a wordless grunt in response, feeling like you’re in an entirely different plane of existence right now. Time blurs as Himeko washes out the shampoo and works in the conditioner, before washing that out too and leaving your hair thoroughly clean and smelling like fresh roses—the same scent as hers.

You almost don’t want to leave the warmth of the tub, but Himeko coaxes you out anyway. She offers you a towel and a bathrobe, and leaves you to dry yourself off for a while. You wring out your hair, then dress yourself in a comfy pair of silk nightclothes. When you step out of the washroom, Himeko is waiting for you on the bed, her legs already tucked beneath the covers. On her lap is her laptop as she types away, no doubt finishing up on her many engineering designs.

You practically dive into bed, snuggling under the sheets and pressing close to your lover. She’s warm as always, thanks to her Pathstrider ability being of the Fire type. Himeko hums to herself, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as you bury yourself in her side, uncaring for the dampness of your hair. She reaches over to the bedside table, and with a click, switches of the main room lights, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp next to the bed.

You chance a glance up at her, even as drowsiness nips at your heels. The gentle golden glow of the lamp makes her look divine, enhanced by the fiery red of her hair. There is an affection in her eyes you know is reserved only for you as she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, now,” she says, her words a caress against your skin. “You deserve it, my love.”

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes slipping shut as sleep finally claims you. It’s easy to oblige the request, safe and sound in her arms like this. These moments make you wish that dawn—or the Express’s approximation of a circadian rhythm—would never come, and you could linger in the embrace of your beloved for eternity. The last thing you hear before you drift off is Himeko’s soothing voice, almost lullaby-like, and you can hear her smile.

“I love you too, dearest one.”

KAFKA

For the nth time that night, you wake up to the sight of your bedroom ceiling.

You sigh and twist in your bed, turning to check the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. It’s 1am in the morning, and you still can’t sleep.

You don’t really know the root of your recent bouts of insomnia. Maybe it was the workload? But Himeko has given you several days off already. Maybe it was the stress of having to manage the younger Astral Express members, but Welt shoulders that burden most of the time. Could it be Pom Pom then? You shake your head at that—the conductor was usually the one stressing, not being the cause of stress.

Then maybe… maybe it’s because you miss her.

Kafka, your secret lover.

You miss the presence of her next to you in your bed, and the steady, powerful beat of her heart under your ear as you rest your head on her chest. Miss the elegant cadence of her breathing and the feel of her hand in yours.

You sigh again. You know she’d laugh if she ever knew about your silly longing. I mean, you volunteered for this infiltration mission; you knew what you were signing up for. But still, it’s funny—you miss that about her too. Her laugh.

You reach for your phone, resting on the bed. During your last… rendezvous with Kafka she had the foresight—or maybe Elio did, who knows—to give you an encrypted number to contact her with.

Only in case of emergencies, doll, she had crooned, as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Use it wisely.

Your finger hovers over the number. Does this even qualify as an emergency? It’s just a few sleepless nights. Kafka probably has more important things to do, executing Elio’s endless number of scripts and whatnot. In the end, you shut off your phone and throw your head back on the pillows, ready to resign yourself to another long night—

—when your phone suddenly buzzes with urgency.

You jerk in surprise, brows furrowing as you pick it back up. Who could be calling at this hour? You squint in the darkness as you read the caller ID, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It’s the emergency number.

You fumble to answer, quickly sitting up and pressing the phone to your ear, making sure to cover your mouth and the reciever. The rest of the Express definitely wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you always feel some sort of lingering paranoia, sneaking around like this with Kafka.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll,” a familiar, smooth voice says, and your heart flutters. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Kafka,” you breathe out, not bothering to hide the relief in your tone. Kafka chuckles on the other end.

“That’s me,” she hums. “You answered pretty quickly. Were you not sleeping?”

You hesitate for a moment, but decide to come clean. “No. I… haven’t been sleeping well, recently.”

Kafka is silent for a few seconds. “I see,” she says, and something in her voice shifts, imperceptible to the average person. But you aren’t an average person, not to Kafka. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Just a little insomnia. Nothing to worry about." The other end goes quiet, so you decide to change the topic. "Why'd you call? Isn't this for emergencies only? Are you in trouble?"

"You worried?" she chuckles, and you can see her smirk in your mind's eye. "I'm alright, doll. And as for emergencies... well, I missed you. Isn't that an emergency?"

It's such a Kafka-esque answer, but it pulls a breathless little laugh from you all the same. "Ugh, you..."

"Me," she affirms on the other end with a snicker. There is small, comfortable silence between you, before she speaks again. "Listen, doll, I've gotta go. But don't worry your pretty little head--you'll sleep perfectly well tonight. I'll make sure of it."

You blink, confused at her words. But before you can question it, Kafka hangs up the call, leaving you both confused and a little disappointed. Usually she'd say goodbye and throw in those three special words, though not this time, apparently. You wonder what she means as you shut your phone off again, and lie back onto your pillows. You close your eyes, and try to do as she says.

You're not sure how much time passes, but it doesn't work, predictably. You groan in frustration, just about ready to get up when a lithe hand slips over your mouth.

You jerk in surprise, one hand flying reflexively to the knife you keep beneath your pillow, the other gripping your assailant's wrist. You swing the knife in an arc, only for it to be caught and restrained by thin, pink, familiar ropes. They glow ever so slightly, illuminating a familiar face, that has your mouth falling open under the hand.

"Good to see your reflexes haven't dulled," Kafka teases, nimbly prying the knife out of your hands and letting it clatter onto the floor. She then removes the hand over your mouth, and releases your wrist from the strings.

"Kafka," you whisper, your hand moving to cup her cheek, your thumb tracing the ridges of her face, "are you real?"

She leans into your touch, that signature smirk tugging on her painted lips. She's really here, solid and tangible beneath your fingers. "You could consider me a dream, if you'd like."

"How did you even get in here?" you ask, not taking your eyes off her for a moment as she shrugs off her coat and begins undoing the buttons of her shirt. Kafka offers you a smug grin at that, pulling a little device from her pocket.

"Custom-made IPC teleportation beacon," she answers with a wink. "Jailbroken courtesy of Silver Wolf, of course."

You make a mental note to buy Silver Wolf the next battlepass in that game of hers. Kafka sets the device on the bedside table, now dressed in only her undergarments. You swallow as you take in the expanse of her milky skin, firm abdomen and muscled thighs, all while Kafka raids the clothing storage beneath your bed for something to sleep in like she's been on the Express this whole while. She eventually settles for one of your old t-shirts, which drapes over her frame in such a sinfully delectable way that you'd pounce on her if you weren't so damn tired.

"Move over," she orders, pulling her hair out of its usual ponytail, and letting it cascade down her shoulders and back. Kafka has always been beautiful--but like this... you would not have been able to distinguish her from Idrila the Beauty themself. You wonder if that makes you her knight. You shuffle to the side of the bed, and Kafka slips under the sheets next to you. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, close enough that you can rest your ear against her chest, and hear the soothing lullaby of her heartbeat. Immediately you start to feel drowsy, and Kafka chuckles.

"You really missed me, didn't you, doll?" she muses, carding her fingers through your hair gently. "I'm here now, my dear. Sleep, alright?"

Your eyes flutter shut almost instantly. It's funny, how she doesn't even have to use her Spirit Whisper on you to get you to obey. Maybe love itself is enough of a whisper to your soul, or maybe you've always been weak for her. But oddly enough, you don't find yourself minding all that much if that's the case. You don't mind much of anything when it comes to her. Though you don't ponder for very long as you snuggle closer against her warmth, your arms winding tight around her waist. She'll be gone by morning, you know that. She has to. But for now, this is enough, secure in this haven that is her embrace, and you let yourself drift off into slumber.

(The next morning, nothing remains of her--you may have truly considered her a dream, were it not for the imprint of her form on your bed, and a tiny note on your bedside table, undoubtedly written in her hand.

All it says is i love you.

And for the both of you, that's all it needs to say.)

#sev.writes #hsr #kafka x reader #himeko x reader #im ngl im actually pretty proud of this one #esp the kafka half lol #i will jump for joy if someone sees why #n e way anon this was so cute to write #hope u enjoy !!

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fatuismooches · 6 months

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Self-indulgent Omega fic to help turn my writing brain back on, inspired by this brainrot. He is referred to as 24 in here as fragile reader hasn't named the segments yet. You two aren't the closest yet, but a chance encounter with the segment begins to change that. (I will respond to asks... eventually).

After a few centuries-long coma, when you woke up, the hardest thing to process wasn't that fact. It wasn't the fact your lover, who now went by "Dottore" instead of "Zandik" was now a powerful Harbinger. It wasn't the fact you had to deal with this illness for who knows how long (actually, this was quite hard to process, but you tried your best not to dwell on it.) Rather, it was the fact that Dottore now had copies of himself running around. And if you were to properly adjust to your new life, you absolutely had to make room for them. But that was easier said than done.

They were all Zandik, but at the same time, they felt like strangers to you. They were familiarly enigmatic as you had remembered the original one, but you weren't sure if you were good enough to puzzle each of them out all over again... However, pursuing Zandik as a student meant that you certainly were a persistent soul, so you would try!

One of Dottore's segments that you were trying to crack was named 24 (he hadn't bothered to give them names for some reason). 24 was tall and imposing, authoritative even among the segments, despite their tendency to bicker with one another. He was also different from the other segments in a way, but you couldn't put your finger on what exactly it was, for some reason. Needless to say, intriguing (just like all the others). Unfortunately, your attempts to move this relationship forward weren't going the smoothest. You found that even building up your courage for numerous minutes still resulted in a dry throat and awkward moments of the segment looking at you expectantly.

However, that would change one night.

Sleepless nights were frequent when you were a student, but they seemed to have followed you even all this time later. At least, instead of studying and dealing with assignments, you were left to stare at the ceiling in peace or pull out a nice book to read until you became sleepy again. But this time, no option satisfied you. You wanted company. And so you set off to find Dottore. The walk was always nice, but it seemed like you were more tired than you thought, as you eventually realized you were definitely not going the right way in the maze of a building, evident from the recognizable doors of one of the main labs.

Well, you were already here, and you didn't want to walk all the way back. You should just enter and loop your way back around somehow. Judging from the silence on the other side, there was most likely no one else there either, which was good for you! And so you pushed the doors open, intent on entering until you saw him.

24.

He sat there unmasked, screwdriver in hand, carefully tweaking himself, a few other tools to the side as well. Wait, a screwdriver to his face? You squinted a bit more and that's when you realized he... had no face? Well, kind of, he had a mouth and squishy cheeks, but the upper half was replaced by mechanics instead. A gleaming red gem in the middle along with blue wires made up 24's face in replacement for actual eyes, You had no clue that this was what he really looked like.

You were a mix of shock and awe. It was surprising but you supposed you should have expected the segments, who weren't human, to have some features like this. And didn't Prime say 24 was the most recently made segment? More recent, more advanced, you guessed. But you also had a feeling you really shouldn't have walked in on this, so you should leave while you still could. Maybe 24 didn't notice you yet-

"It's awfully past your bedtime, isn't it, [Name]?" 24 hummed, continuing whatever modification he was doing calmly, not the slightest bothered by your intrusion, or by the fact you saw his face. You wanted to retort with something, but your usual attitude with Zandik seemed to die down around this individual that you had yet to become fully comfortable with.

"I could not sleep. So I took a walk." You glanced away from 24, then back at him. "What... what are you doing?" You asked, curiosity overtaking your nervousness.

"Simply performing some routine maintenance. I will be finished soon, and then-"

"Can I see?" The sudden, rather eager question from you, made 24 pause. You had always been quiet and a bit jumpy around him, so this sudden change in attitude had him interested. On the contrary, he thought that seeing this inhuman face of his would make you keep your distance more, but it attracted you? Not what the segment predicted, but he found himself enjoying the surprises you brought with you.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the old days of helping Zandik put together and apart various contraptions. It was a mixture of 24's display and also the star in the middle, which reminded you of all the Ruin Guards you'd dissected in the Akademiya. It was quite fun. You wanted to see more. Hopefully, this could be a splendid opportunity to satiate your inner researcher and also get closer to the segment.

"Of course, if that is what you'd like." You walked up to him, steps full of caution yet fascination. The way his fingers maneuvered effortlessly with precision at something that appeared delicate - it was very cool, to you at least.

"You don't need a mirror or anything?"

"No, I know my body more than well enough."

"Do you have any sensation up there?"

"Yes, I can feel my own fingers when they brush against it."

"Can I touch you?" Though 24 had entertained your barrage of questions, it was this request that made him pause his work and stare at you. The red star that glimmered intensely at you suddenly made your nervousness go all the way up again.

"I'm sor-"

"Very well," 24 interrupted you, placing his hands on his lap, now looking at you expectantly. You held back a sigh of relief as you stepped even closer to him, giving his upper mechanical face an experimental tap. He didn't react outwardly, but you could tell he felt that. Gulping, you tried again, this time gliding your finger over the blue lines imprinted on the black background. And then the red star in the middle, you gave into the urge to press down on it like a button. Still, 24 seemed to be unbothered. Darn, you had hoped he was ticklish there or something.

Regardless, the area was pretty hard, compared to the softness of his cheeks, which you unconsciously slid another finger down to calculate the exact difference. Until a hand grasped your own, not too tight or too light, firm enough to make you jump.

"[Name], would you care to explain your reasons for such prodding?" Oops. 24 didn't seem very amused.

"I have no intentions, I am just interested in feeling you." As soon as the words came out, you realized how they sounded and rushed to clarify yourself. "Because I've never seen anything like this before! The technology is just interesting to me! As a scholar and all! You understand, right?" But alas, from the now growing smirk on his face, you had already lost.

"Is that so? I shall allow you to continue then, if that is what you wish. I would never block a fellow scholar's pursuit of knowledge," he grinned, pointy teeth grazing his lip as he let go of your hand. Ugh, he was definitely making fun of you.

"And, if you truly desire to obtain satisfactory results, you should come closer, no?" At that moment, the segment suddenly pulled you toward him so that you fell into his lap, legs draped over him and chests nearly pressed against each other. It was rather intimate - the only other lap you've been on was Prime Dottore's. But although your heart was beating quicker than normal, you liked how it felt...

"Better?"

"Yes," your lone word came out quiet, an attempt to hide your flustered state. But you quickly moved on, not wanting to endure further teasing. "S-So, how do you see? Since you have no... you know." 24 chuckled, relishing in the state he and he only reduced you to. But he decided to spare you this one time. He didn't want to drive you too far away now, did he, now that he finally had the chance to be alone with you.

"I have a Kamera installed inside."

"A... Kamera?" The unfamiliar word felt strange on your tongue. You never heard of such a thing.

"It is a device that takes photographs. A photograph is..." 24 pondered, trying to come up with the simplest definition for someone who hadn't had knowledge of the developments of the past four hundred years yet. "It is something that captures a moment of time in physical form." You furrowed your eyebrows at that. It sort of made sense, but it also didn't. How could time be permanent? From the expression on your face, 24 could tell you most definitely wanted to see a Kamera.

"I shall show you it-" you brightened up, "in the morning," and then deflated. "You have delayed far too long, and no one will let you sleep in." You pouted at this finality.

"But what if I want to stay with you?"

"I will accompany you back to your room, and wait until you fall asleep. Is that satisfactory?" You nodded, and then you were lifted into the air as 24 began to carry you effortlessly, making his way to dreary corridors.

And so you began to reflect in the segment's arms, which had gone from never touching you to holding you so intimately. You were surprised to see this side of the segment - you never thought he could act this way. But you suppose, if Dottore cares for you, then the rest of them really do as well.

"We should talk more," you said, just as he slipped you right back into bed. "It would be fun, I think." You don't know why you felt the need to provide a reason, perhaps because he was undoubtedly extremely busy and had better things to do than chat with you all day. And ugh - "fun"? That was such a stupid reason. Why would 24 care about fun? But he seemed to find your request attractive anyway.

"I have harbored the same sentiment for a while. I await our future conversations with great anticipation, [Name]." With a light feeling in your heart, greatly proud of yourself for your progress with the segment, the sleepiness began to settle in once more. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep was the red glow emitting from 24.

From the day he came into this world as 24, to the day you named him to live and die as Omega, he will love you.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #dottore x reader #did u guys know i love omega...#i also have a lil cute idea of comforting him after the other segments stress him out #sniffs... i miss him... i miss the silly pookie...#i also have a lil hc that reader calls him 'mega but i should keep the delusions to myself huh #divider by cafekitsune #i wrote this in like one sitting which is pretty impressive for me #(i get distracted and unmotivated quickly)#why am i actually kinda proud of this...

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