Latest Posts by victorias-fic-recs - Page 2

the disasters of a cheek kiss.

scaramouche stares at your hands in his and thinks about how pretty they look together; how they fit. he’s definitely not listening to a single word you’re saying.

PAIRING. scaramouche / gn! reader GENRE. romance-comedy, fluff WORD COUNT. 2,000 WARNINGS. light swearing, some slightly inappropriate innuendos (for comedic purposes), mentions of kissing

NOTE. i love evil scara but sometimes i just need silly disaster romcom lead scara in my life yk?

Scaramouche thinks you’re funny. So funny. Hilarious, even. He would be laughing in his loudest, most unflattering laugh if he isn’t so flustered about this whole ordeal. He would be throwing his head so far back you’d think he’d be bending just to get his fits thrown out of his system, but no. He does not do any of that. Not even a single chuckle, nope. This is neither the time, nor place for that.

So, Scaramouche instead grabs your wrist. He pulls you away from the crowd until the conversations in the room turn into muffled voices of polite greetings and business-like discussions. Quite honestly, that is already one major part of the hilarity of it all: why was he even here in the first place? By the Raiden Shogun, this diplomatic party (is this even a party? Whatever the hell.) bores Scaramouche that it drives him towards the edge of something terrible. What do you call it? Insanity?

Yes, Scaramouche is going insane.

He thinks it would be celestially better if he had stayed at home—plotting his next evil schemes, perhaps. Or sleeping, because even the evil sleeps. Or eating, because the food in this damned city isn’t just to his liking. Or maybe cuddling you. Or–

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kazuha + hurt/comfort + normal au + childhood friends to lovers, please <3

MAPLE LEAVES.

hello and goodbye; the autumn comes and passes, yet you still wait.

pairing: kazuha/gender neutral reader (platonic, romantic)

category: hurt/comfort + (implied bc apparently i can’t do it any other way) childhood friends to lovers, reader is kind of bland in this one i’m sorry LOL

note: i feel like this fic makes no sense 😍 el oh el; i think i changed his story kind of pls kazuha lovers forgive me

everything seemed to be more vibrant when you were children.

the sun hanging up high in the sky, the butterflies you caught, the way his hair glistened when the both of you got wet in the rain. the way his eyes were the same color as the maple leaves over his head.

the first long goodbye that you shared was the one when you had to travel with your parents on a business trip for a week or two. looking back at it, it wasn’t so long, yet for two kids that didn’t know the flow of time, it seemed like forever.

are you going to come back?

‘course i will, kazu. and i’m gonna bring you a lot of souvenirs!

promise?

promise!

the second long goodbye happened when he was leaving in a hurry, excitement in his voice. he barged into your family home and brought a weird sense of relief with him — a weird one, considering he was one with no mora to his name anymore, the eldest son of a just fallen clan. he seemed free and before he even spoke, you knew what he was going to say. and you were no one to keep him here.

i’m gonna travel the forests and mountains, dove. the nature speaks and it calls out to me; and i am not the one to decline it’s calling.

i know you’re not, kazuha. just remember, if you ever need a place to stay, i’ll be here. i’ll always be here.

it was also the first time he kissed you, successfully ruining the chances for you pursuing anyone else, whether he was aware of that or not. it was quick and harsh, and it was not enough.

the third long goodbye happened after tomo challenged the raiden shogun to a duel. after kaedehara kazuha caught his friend’s vision and fled, fled as fast as he could. after kaedehara kazuha became a wanted criminal in every corner of inazuma.

the funny thing with this goodbye was the fact that it never really happened. he used to come back, from his travels, with trinkets and stories, new poems and the wind. and you drank up every word that spilled from his lips like honey, treasured the sight of him as if it was the last time you’d see him and held him as if he was a mere imagination created by your brain; gently, carefully. fearfully.

you were fearful and kaedehara kazuha was anything but that. he was a free soul, the one of a wanderer and you were but a mere human waiting for him to come back. if kaedehara kazuha was the free winds and stories yet to be discovered, you were the calm breeze and the feeling of familiarness that one feels while stepping into their childhood home.

he left a letter; scribbled and left under your pillow and when you found it you held it without opening it for hours on end.

kaedehara kazuha was gone and you knew this time, you might not see him again.

do not wait for me. do not wait for me, please. you deserve someone else. you deserve better.

but you didn’t want someone else and you didn’t want better. you wanted him.

and so autumn came the way it always did; and it passed the same way it always did. and you waited. you waited while the seasons were changing and waited while the maple leaves grew and fell.

and he came back. the same way he always did; with a new poem and a story and for the first time, with tears in his eyes.

i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. you’ll never have to wait again.

i’d wait for you a hundred years if that’s what i’d have to do. you’re worth it all.

a bolt from the blue | royalty au

✦ kazuha. scaramouche. kaeya. x gn!reader

✦ tags: descriptions of anxiety (nothing explicit) in scaramouche's part. arranged marriages. historical!au. royalty!au.

for not all encounters in life are tinted in rose-colored lenses, showered in sparkles, nor does a symphony of music spring out of nowhere. sometimes it’s a little clumsy, often wholly unexpected — but it’s human, and life-changing all the same.

kazuha *. ⋆ breaking free

"are you lost, your highness?"

you freeze — as if you'd been seized red-handed committing an act of treason — turning your head slowly to the unforeseen guest while the leg you were halfway through swinging off the balcony remains suspended in the air.

"uh ... no?" you cleared your throat, raised your chin, and tried your best to muster as much dignity as you could — not an easy feat, considering your current plight was downright scandalous and truly unbecoming for a royal.

"i'm quite certain that this is the swiftest escape route, so you shall have to excuse me," you wave a dismissive hand airily. "carry on, good sir."

the gentleman takes a few steps forward, red cloak falling from his shoulders gracefully as he leans over the balcony.

he places a careful hand atop your ankle as he peers down below. "i doubt you'll end up unscathed with this high of a fall."

you shrug, mostly unbothered. "i'll take my chances. anything to escape that awfully stifling room and its attendees."

his mouth turns into a small, conspiratorial smile. "then the winds must have been kind, for it was i they brought you."

you raise an eyebrow, ultimately abandoning your earlier plans to leave by placing your foot back down. "consider my interest piqued. why do you say so?" you ask, smoothing out your garments.

"for i have first-hand experience in fleeing and running away."

the emblazoned gold and red rendering of maple leaves on his clothing glinted under the moonlight, and finally, it hits you.

"you're KAZUHA, sole heir and last prince of the kaedehara lineage," you surmise, dipping your chin. "i apologize for the late greeting and the shameful display i put on moments ago, your grace."

the man next to you was a prince, the last of his bloodline, who'd been rumored to escape the confines of inazuman royalty by stowing away on a ship.

news of his disappearance had spread like wildfire among the upper echelons of high society — and you'd likewise heard that the entire aristocracy had been in an uproar at his return.

"please, call me kazuha." he shakes his head, presenting you with a polite bow. "as expected, you're as clever as they've described. it's a pleasure to meet you."

"i found myself in great envy when i heard you'd manage to roam lands around freely, bereft from the burden of responsibilities."

his eyes take on a faraway look when he says, "both lives have their ... tribulations. though i must admit, i did prefer it."

you fall silent for a moment — watching him — before he shakes off his reverie. he faces you fully, fingers softly tapping atop the marble ledge.

"then what prompted you to return?" you ask.

the side of his mouth twitches, as if he'd been expecting you to ask him, and as if he'd prepared an answer for it already. his slight smirk made him appear even more charming under the moon's grace.

"perhaps i've learned about a certain royal figure well-loved by their people, and who've i've only heard good stories about on my travels, so i longed to see them for myself."

sparks consumed your skin with the way he stared at you, as if you were worthy of worship and of his high praise. here, on the balcony, away from the festivities, it was hard for your knees not to resemble pudding.

"well, i hope you weren't disappointed." you turn away, gazing longingly towards the world beyond instead. "though i'm afraid their tales did not inform you that they've been stuck in a cage their whole entire life."

from inside, the orchestra begins to transition into their next section of ballads. kazuha takes a step back, before offering a hand.

he tilts his head slightly. an invitation. "then shall i break you free, your highness?"

and without any hesitation, you easily slip your fingers into his palm, excitement quivering in your stomach. he tightens his grip, his thumb brushing your knuckles once.

he wore a pleased smile — the kind that could melt the coldest of hearts and simultaneously make bystanders swoon — and to your not-so-dismay, it proved to be awfully hard to say no under his influence.

you take a deep breath. "just for tonight."

"that's more than enough time."

and he leads you into a dance that has you both hiding behind marble pillars, your bodies pressed close enough to ward off the cold night air, twirling behind large drapes, and in a fit of hushed laughter, all while kazuha skillfully weaves you through the patrolling guards.

once you reach past the royal gates, you're both breathless, and not once, has he dropped your hand. he only tugs you along. closer. faster. away from everything.

and for the first time in forever, you don't look back.

scaramouche *. ⋆ an accidental misstep

you take a heaving breath as you push open the embellished doors and step into the ballroom.

perhaps arriving late wasn't the most well-thought-of plan you've had up to date, but it was far more preferable than being announced. the music and raucous chitchat falter slightly as you enter and you feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you.

it's heavy. suffocating. prying.

you should never have come here.

it was a foolish idea — one that you'd been unwillingly forced to.

you hardly considered yourself ready for everything this evening entailed, barely equipped with any etiquette lessons, and so hurriedly pushed into a world so foreign. so daunting. so far from your own.

you would, most undoubtedly, fail.

you would conceivably stumble on your feet, pronounce someone's name wrong, forget their verbose title, and from which branch of their family tree they hailed, and everyone would shun you, your entire household, and you'd never be able to —

panic grips you, its icy claws digging down, down, down, into your chest. you unknowingly take a hasty step back as blood pounds in your ears and your breathing turns laborious.

you bump into someone, making you fearfully whip around, like a spooked kitten. the heavy ball of dread in your stomach is justifiable, as you recognize the person you've just slammed into with encroaching horror.

SCARAMOUCHE, bearing the 6th seat among the harbingers, stared at you icily. they were the highest-ranking diplomats from the neighboring kingdom of snezhnaya, who managed to exude power, nobility, and authority from their portraits alone.

if you had trouble breathing earlier, your lungs had definitely ceased functioning now. the air felt even more constricted now that you were face to face with one of them in person.

"you stepped on my foot," scaramouche states blandly. already, his tone was frigid enough to freeze champagne. unduly apathetic. overly superior.

you inwardly cringe. he would probably demand your own legs as recompense, and in all truth, you were quite willing to get down on your knees.

"i'm so sorry," you whispered, trying and failing to suppress the tremble in your voice.

his gaze narrows as they linger on you, long lashes framing his perfectly jeweled eyes. eager now to put as much distance as possible between you while you still had your legs, you attempt to slip away.

his arm shoots out to capture your wrist, looping your arm in his with one fluid gesture. "i have no need for formalities. come," he commanded lowly.

you find yourself unable to refuse, realizing halfway through that he was leading you across and into the middle of the ballroom floor. your entire skin felt as if it had turned green.

the orchestra began playing the first strains of a waltz. scaramouche cocks his head, arching an eyebrow.

he'd brought you here to dance. with him.

despite the discomfort in your chest for being the object of numerous curious stares, you take the hand he extends out of courtesy.

under the dim chandelier light, he looked as achingly handsome as he was intimidating; and thus, you two commenced a sequence of familiar steps.

"i expect my feet to remain unharmed after this bothersome charade," he mutters.

you tip your head down, keeping your attention trained on your feet to take careful and measured steps.

scaramouche impatiently clicks his tongue. he lifts your face with a finger under your chin, exerting the gentlest pressure possible to meet your eyes.

your lips part open, and his own eyes flit down to them, lightning-quick, before he berates, "it's basic etiquette to look at your partner."

an apology reflexively bubbles on your tongue. "i'm sorry—" you begin, but he swings you around in a graceful arc abruptly.

when he sweeps you back into his arms, and the distance between you closes again, he lazily asks, "is your vocabulary that limited?"

you swallow. your breathing, while still erratic, no longer sounded quite so panicked. perhaps you could permit yourself some consolation, seeing as he meant no harm.

"i'm terribly anxious. i ... never had any desire to be here," you admit, unsure why you found it so easy to bare such a dark corner of yourself. perhaps his uncouth manner had rubbed off on you. "the way people stare is unpleasant."

at this, the corner of his mouth lifts up the slightest, eyes gleaming with amusement, and ... something else. he'd rewarded you with a smirk, as if he was pleased with you for speaking your mind.

he tightens his grip on your waist slightly, putting his lips very close to your ear before murmuring, "let them look. it would be a pity if you denied them the sight of you."

as you keep your attention designated on him, only then do you realize how he pierces onlookers with his haughtiest stare. you hadn't even noticed since you'd been so preoccupied with ensuring you'd be a worthy enough partner for someone of his status.

he'd been shielding you, trying to soothe your distress — even if the means were a bit questionable.

when he returns his gaze to you, a satisfied smile plays on his lips to find you already looking at him.

"good," he praised in velvet tones, making your heart stutter. "keep your eyes solely on me."

kaeya *. ⋆ an unlikely twist of fate

you wiped the sweat from your brow as you finished tying all your bedsheets and drapes together into one long rope.

you had no intentions of being wed. your siblings had abdicated their titles for a myriad of reasons, leaving you the only alternative to be married off to khaenri'ah's last heir.

to describe your circumstances bluntly, your only role was to continue their lineage for the sake of peace and prosperity between your kingdom and theirs.

you've never even met or glimpsed upon a portrait of your fiancée, nor bothered to learn his name, though it wasn't as if you wished to.

right after they announced his arrival today, you excused yourself to your quarters, taking advantage of everyone causing a fuss, and decided that this would be the best time to set your plans into motion.

being forced into a contractual marriage already left a bitter taste in your mouth. it wasn't as if you hoped to find true love — as you weren't naive to believe in such tales — but to at least be given a choice in whom you'd betrothed.

so, although these were words a royal must never even think about uttering, it's what pushes you over to the edge.

fuck it all, you mutter under your breath.

you toss your makeshift ladder out the window, tugging it one last time to inspect its resilience. slinging your satchel over your shoulder, you begin your getaway.

you were already brimming to the core with excitement and the idea of being on your own. you could eat anything your heart desired, wear whatever sort of clothes you wished, and not have to mind manners and absurd rules that constantly made your skull ache.

you're halfway down when you hear a soft grunt.

you pause, eyes widening as your head frantically searches for the origins of the sound. your sight lands on the tower next to yours, and on ... a gentleman doing the exact same thing.

the two of you lock eyes for a moment. you blink.

it appeared that he, too, was in the middle of his escape. his mouth opens ajar before the two of you simultaneously race down.

he reaches the ground far quicker than you do, and you mutter a low curse. your makeshift rope turns out to be a few feet too short, a slight miscalculation on your part.

"are you in need of assistance?"

you glance beneath you to see your co-escapee, clad in a coat of royal blue, with his arms outstretched.

"keep your voice down!" you worriedly exclaimed.

"you'll have to jump."

"that's a ludicrous idea!"

he snorts. "compared to scaling down the tower?"

how ... intolerable! especially coming from him! as if he hadn't scaled one down seconds ago. left with no other choice, you huff, "you must swear you'll catch me."

"i won't be able to if you stay up there any longer. my arms are starting to ache, but yes, you have my word."

you wonder just how much his word meant. you silently count up to three before letting go. you'd half expected that he wouldn't be there, but you landed in his arms with a small oof.

he gazes down at you, looking quite ... bewildered. you're unsure as to why.

perhaps he's thought of bringing you back into the castle. as a precautionary measure, you use your most authoritative voice. "if you bring me to the guards, i shall tell them you laid a hand on me."

instead of being frightened, the man only snickers, appearing entertained. "why, i did not expect that my compassion would be repaid in such a manner."

"i'm indebted indeed, but i graciously ask that you put me down now ... sir?"

"KAEYA," he introduces. you hum. the name rang eerily familiar, though you paid no heed to it. he lowers you slowly, placing a hand on the small of your back to aid your balance.

you rearrange your satchel, before turning on your heel and walking away directly to the alleyways servants use.

to your dismay, you hear his footsteps behind you. "why are you fleeing?"

he probably was no one of great importance, and he'd not risk announcing to others of your disappearance as you'd seen him escape as well, so you decide to accept his company.

"i'd like to make my own fate," you explain. "i'm tired of having my entire life decided for me."

"is that so?" he mused, not at all mocking, but genuinely interested.

you nod fervently. "i'm being shipped off to a kingdom i've never been to, arranged to marry a man i've never met, and expected to sire his offspring!"

kaeya glances at you with a mix of amusement and mirth, walking leisurely alongside you now. "and who is the unfortunate chap?"

you pointedly ignore the insult, raising your hands. "the crown prince of khaenri'ah! can you believe it?"

a strangled sound leaves his throat, almost sputtering out his next response, "i can't fathom what's so terrible."

"he could be some old geezer for all i know!" you rant, feeling even more riled up. you had no one to share your woes with, and it was honestly quite unburdening to finally express the worries that plagued your mind. "he could likewise be perverted or enjoy strange hobbies."

the look on kaeya's face is indescribable, as if you'd personally insulted the man himself. "i think it's unfair for you to place such an impression of him if you've never met him before."

"i don't need to." you wave away his opinion. "the fact that he agreed to this entire arrangement just goes to show that he is callous, and cold, and has no empathy for the other party involved."

kaeya's feet ground to a halt. "what if he had no other choice as well?"

you pause, stopping next to him. he tips his head up to the sky, and you couldn't deny that he was devastatingly handsome.

"my heart feels for him. it truly does ... " you shift your weight from foot to foot. "but i'm choosing myself for once."

he looks at you then. "and what of him?"

"then i pray he chooses himself, as i won't fault him for it," you say in all honesty. "who knows, perhaps he's thought about abandoning this entire agreement too."

he lets out a musically charming laugh, making your eyes widen in alarm. you swiftly press a hand over his mouth.

"how many times must i tell you that you need to keep your voice down?" you chastise in a hushed voice.

you feel his mouth curve into a smile under your palm. before you're able to step away, his hand grasps yours, interlacing it with his, before dragging you along.

you gape, preparing to speak — even though you hadn't an ounce of an idea of what you'd say — but not a sound emerges. his skin on yours felt uncomfortably warm despite the evening air.

"and you? why were you leaving as well?" you ask slowly, remembering that you'd never inquired where he was from, or why he was in the castle in the first place.

"i'm choosing myself," he answers in a cryptic tone. and you, kaeya decides. he's quite determined to see if he could change your opinion of him, despite the fact that you seemed completely unaware of who he was.

you're uncertain of what he means by that. oh well, you shrugged. perhaps the two of you will learn more of each other's stories on your journeys since you've picked up a companion.

kaeya couldn't resist glancing back at you. at your eager, wide-eyed expression at the prospect of freedom, he shakes his head fondly and grins.

this will be very interesting.

✦ byeol's notes: tenses are annoying >:| i rewatched little women, and the scene where laurie and jo were dancing outside the house, while the party went on inside, got me 😫 which greatly inspired kazuha's part!

and yes, i've read an ungodly amount of historical manhwas, which only makes me want to get isekai'd to teyvat or an au.

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you and ily <3

order: mocha (kazuha) + chocolate shavings (highschool!au) + cinnamon bun ("are you... jealous?")

waitress' notes: @rayskyee your order is ready! <3

"that test was so hard! i studied all last night and even made myself notecards. i don't think i'll ever begin to comprehend chemistry. whatever. anyway, what did you get for question seven? i put-" you stop talking when you notice kazuha was off in another dimension.

kazuha was looking down at his phone, only humming in agreement to whatever words slipped past your lips. you could probably be plotting a murder out loud and he would still continue his humming.

you shut the door to your locker before leaning against it. "kazuha are you even listening to a word i'm saying?"

"mhmm." kazuha hums, eyes still glued to his phone screen.

you huff in annoyance. you take kazuha's phone out of his hands. "if you don't wanna talk about the test then just tell me."

kazuha tilts his head in confusion, trying to reach back for his phone but you kept it securely placed in your hand and out of reach. "what do you mean?"

"clearly," you raise his phone. "you weren't interested in what i had to say."

you take a look down at kazuha's phone, realizing that he was texting someone. you briefly looked at the contact. it was a girl you've seen around campus, and you and kazuha even had english class with her. you've never spoken to her but she was no doubt very pretty.

realizing that you were probably looking at kazuha's phone for too long, you shove it back into his hands. "well i should get going now. bye." and you left before kazuha could even get a word in.

-

that evening when you got home, all you could think of was kazuha. and that girl.

who was she really? and why did kazuha have a sudden interest in her? kazuha isn't one to suddenly approach people and start becoming friends. so in reality, you were just a bit suspicious and worried for your friend.

yes, a worried friend looking out for her best friend. that's all it was, nothing more.

but deep down in your heart you knew it was more. but you would never confess it to yourself.

-

"alright class, who would like to go next?"

if the chemistry test yesterday wasn't enough to kill you, presenting in front of your entire english class would be. you sink deeper into your chair and avoid contact, praying to the universe your teacher wouldn't call on you.

"alright then, kazuha. would you please come up and present your poem?"

you quietly exhale a breath of relief. you shoot your eyes at kazuha to give him a playful raspberry, but he was looking at her. the pretty girl behind him who he was texting yesterday and she winked at him and mouthed something that he smiled at.

you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment and you turn your gaze back to the front of the classroom.

"this poem took me awhile to write, but it is inspired by something, or rather someone, that i could write pages of poetry about." kazuha smiled and then he began.

whenever kazuha performs his poetry, it feels like a performance. the mic is his and the world is his stage. you've always been mesmerized when listening to beautifully constructed words flow out of his mouth with such confidence and ease. poetry is his second language and anyone would be lucky to listen to it once in their lifetime.

the poem was about a person. an extraordinarily beautiful person who has the cutest smile and a wonderful laugh. their presence makes a room light up and their eyes are pools of wonder that can trap you in enchantment. the person in kazuha's poem sounds like an ethereal being.

you weren't snapped out of your trance until the entire class began to clap.

"bravo, kazuha! that was a stunning poem! thank you for sharing it with us." the teacher beamed.

kazuha walked back over to his seat, glancing in your direction. you averted your eyes from eye contact and focused elsewhere.

-

when the bell rang, you were the first person out. that poem had to be about her. who else could be so beautiful that kazuha just had to capture her presence into words?

you knew you had no right to be upset. but the least kazuha could've done was tell you about his stupid little crush. you were his best friend after all, right?

"y/n, y/n wait! stop walking!" kazuha caught up to you, slightly out of breath. "damn you're a fast walker."

you sigh, about to walk away again. "kazuha i really can't miss calculus and i'm already-"

before you could fully walk away, kazuha took ahold of your hand to stop you. you look down at his hand holding yours and he quickly pulls away.

kazuha slightly furrowed his brows in confusion. "what's up with you?"

you scoff, absolutely appalled with him. he has the nerve to add you what's up when he's the one who's been ignoring you? "what's up with me? what's up with you, kazu? you could've told me that you liked that girl you know."

"what?" kazuha tilted his head. "like what girl?"

"don't play dumb. that girl you were googling eyes at in class. the same one you were texting yesterday. the same one you wrote your poem about." you didn't mean to say that last line, but it accidentally slipped.

kazuha's face softened and he took a step closer to you. "y/n, are you... jealous?"

your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting that from him. now that kazuha said it out loud, you suppose you were jealous. but jealous of what? his feelings for her? did you secretly wish that it was you he had feelings for?

"i-" you stutter, not knowing what to say.

kazuha inches even closer, cautiously taking ahold of your hand. "first off, that girl is my science partner. i was texting her yesterday because i was really invested and distracted with my project. i'm sorry i should've been listening to you. secondly, i wasn't 'googling eyes' at her, she was giving me reassurance about my poem because... because.."

your voice was barely above a whisper, "because what?"

"because that poem was about you, y/n. i wrote it about you."

your whole stomach erupted with butterflies in that moment, fireworks going off in your brain, systems malfunctioning— kazuha wrote a love poem about you.

he looks down at his feet, a soft blush forming on his cheeks. "i like you. i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner."

you find the courage to bring your palm up to his face, forcing him to look back at you.

"i like you too. i'm sorry for assuming things."

kazuha smiles, bringing down the hand you have on his cheek. "i know you're late to calculus, but can i kiss you?"

you giggle before leaning in for a sweet kiss.

"screw calculus."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his love language / toge inumaki x gn!reader / headcanons

- toge’s love language is definitely touch

- he doesn’t really have the option to tell you how he feels, so he has to make do with what he’s got

- and he gets real good at it, and you come to understand what certain touches mean

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physicality.

*physicality: the fact of relating to the body as opposed to the mind; physical presence.

word count: 1,921

a/n: i absolutely love inumaki. and seeing jjk 0 today only made me love him more. however, no worries - no spoilers for the movie in this fic! also, i used this wonderful person’s guide on inumaki’s language for this fic! 

Inumaki wanted to say lots of things.

There was so many things he’d wanted to express at multiple different points of his life, but never could. He’d felt the frustration of his cursed energy for as long as he could remember, and it had never really faded - he just, simply, learned how to cope with it.

He really didn’t have any other choice.

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100 followers special!

———————————————————————

what i imagine you dancing to;

albedo - gramofon waltz by eugen doga

kazuha - tchaikovsky’s waltz of the flowers

cyno - la valse d’amelie waltz by yann tiersen (orchestra version)

———————————————————————

the sound of tuning instruments fills the air as the orchestra prepares for the upcoming dance. a dance of three parts, and of three partners. an underlying murmur of muted conversation rises from a growing crowd, each soul donned in an exquisite mask, not a single one identical.

you weave your way through the crowd, straightening your own mask. you do not know who you will dance with. perhaps with no one at all. you have decided to leave that decision to fate.

———————————————————————

three minutes.

albedo is a well-known and highly respected alchemist, invited to this ball out of formality. he had his reservations about going, and has yet to lose them, but in his position (where every move he makes is accounted for and eyes follow him wherever he goes), refusing such an invite would cause an uproar; an uproar which, if it were to arise, he would not have the patience to deal with.

the time for the first dance is nearing, and a circle of people have swarmed him, firing overlapping questions such as why he hasn’t chosen a partner yet, who he’ll dance with, and whether it’ll be them. he turns down their all-too-eager requests, however, for though it is true that he would rather not be here, he is, and so he will dance only with that whom he chooses.

three minutes until the dance begins. the group surrounding him grows increasingly anxious and increasingly rowdy. his patience is drawing thin. perhaps leaving now and dealing with the consequences later would be for the best.

as he weighs the potential outcome of this course of action and whether it would be worth it, his eyes absentmindedly trail over the gathered crowd. in doing so, he catches a glimpse of you. ah.

he excuses himself from his circle of enthusiasts (much to their disappointment), and begins to make his way over to you.

albedo thinks he knows who his first partner will be.

two minutes.

kazuha enters the hall, casting weary glances over his shoulder as he slips on his mask. he moves into the crowd, blending in effortlessly just as four guards enter through the double doors, faces riddled with frowns as they scan the gathered citizens. they mutter in hushed tones to the men stationed by the entrance, pistols hanging at their waists, who shake their heads to whatever is being said. the other guards exchange a glance before leaving.

that was a close one, kazuha thinks as he navigates the ballroom, and allows himself to take a breath of relief. he slips further into the hall, taking note of the preparing instruments and the thrum of excitement in the air; no doubt that the dance will be starting soon.

but now he’s left with another problem; he has to find somebody to dance with. he has two minutes. he casts a sweeping look over the crowd, and his eyes land on you.

this may be promising, he decides.

one minute.

cyno leans against a wall, arms folded across his chest. his face hidden by a mask and the rest of him by a cloak, nobody would recognise him as the grand mage of sumeru academia. it is not that he wasn’t invited, of course, or that he is not supposed to be here, but rather a case of fancying some privacy and space to enjoy this event without recognition nor the academia breathing down his neck.

he doesn’t intend to dance. he is merely here to enjoy the music and have time to himself, relax, and wind down. a few people have all approached him with requests to dance, all of which he has declined. he would only dance with somebody if it were somebody he had an interest in, and all these strangers are nothing of the sort.

if he is not mistaken, there is only one minute left until the dance begins. he raises his head in anticipation; the music is about to begin. this is when a familiar figure catches his eye, one which he immediately recognises, standing out to him amidst everyone else.

it’s you, of course. he considers the significance of your presence for a moment, before straightening himself up with a sigh, and deciding that perhaps he will dance with somebody after all.

———————————————————————

as the music starts, you find yourself quickly swept up in the crowd…

and into somebody’s arms.

“may i have this dance?” albedo is your first dance. ever the gentleman, he takes your hand in his own gloved one and, eyes never once leaving yours, leans down to place a featherlight kiss to your knuckles.

you could not refuse, even if you wanted to.

a soft, melancholic melody begins to play, and an arm comes around your waist. you place your free hand on albedo’s shoulder, the other still held within his, fingers now intertwined. you both begin to sway, slowly, to the music.

he wears a long coat that falls to his ankles, and beneath it a deep blue waistcoat embroidered with flowering patterns of black and silver. golden threads dance up dark satin gloves, the fabric fine and no doubt of the highest quality. two elegant black boots, lined with a various assortment of buckles and straps, reach his knees, and a couple of belts hang loosely across his waist.

though his features are hidden by a mask, his ashen blond hair falls around his shoulders and frames his face, tied behind his head in a braided crown. a star pendant, golden and four-pointed, hangs around his neck.

you recall that you have met albedo before, albeit briefly, but none of your encounters have been particularly significant. you cast a glance at him, curious as to why, of all the many brilliant and fascinating people here, he’s chosen you as his first partner. you cast a glance at him, and your eyes widen in awe.

delicate and elegant, his mask sits immaculately on his face, needing no thread nor ribbon to tie it to his head. crafted from untarnished silver and encrusted with diamonds that sparkle like swirls of frost on a cold winter’s morn, the mask glints coldly with his every movement, pristine as falling snow.

over one eye the mask lies a magnificent wing of winding metal, the structure similar to that of a crystalfly and embellished with glittering fragments of glass, its pattern so ornate and its form so slender and delicate that one could mistake it for real as its pale facets catch the chandelier light. it strikes you as similar to sunlight caught in a snowflake; so fragile, and so precious.

such is the way he waltzes with you; polite and courteous, beautiful without a doubt, and yet so distant, never coming too close; almost as if he is afraid to. as you dance, you can’t help but notice that something about him feels lonely.

but though his touch does indeed contain a hint of frost, his presence also holds an underlying warmth; a warmth which he has shown only ever to you.

and, as reserved as he is, when the first part of the dance draws to a close and you two must change partners, albedo seems almost reluctant to leave you in the way that his hands still linger on your sides as he turns away.

for this night has only just begun, and there is much more fun to be had.

“good evening.” almost immediately comes another voice, this one unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant; the tone is soft, and contains a hint of a smile.

a hand slips around your own after a brief hesitation; kazuha’s hand had hovered over yours for a moment, brushing against yours nervously, before finally enclosing around yours. you can feel a thin layer of bandage cloaking his fingers, but no matter the scars or stories he hides beneath them, his presence is undeniably one of kindness, and if anything, you feel safer than not in the company of this stranger.

after this initial hesitance, he seems to grow more confident. the next waltz begins, and he whisks you around in a gentle spin. as you turn, you catch a glimpse of his face.

the mask he dons is tied to his face with two long, red ribbons and cast from smooth ivory, designed to look cracked with age, and dips elegantly along his nose like the beak of some mythical bird. sewn masterfully across the mask’s pale surface intertwine threads of red and black lace, forming flurries of maple leaves swept up by a gust of silver-thread wind.

burgundy plumes fan out from both sides of the mask like outspread wings, their colour deep and the feathers long, gently swaying with his movements. in the dim light of the ballroom, flames seem to dance across their soft edges. the eye sockets of the mask are long and slender, the corners tipped with black. from behind them, two scarlet eyes gaze at you, warm and gentle.

he is dressed in a cloudy grey garment resembling an underbust corset, decorated with subtle motifs of silver and bronze. beneath this he wears a loose-fitting poet shirt of a cream colour, sleeves full and billowing and ornate frills lining a laced v-neck collar. two leather boots, done up with both lace and the occasional buckles, are worn over a deep mahogany pair of waist-high trousers.

a black top hat, bronze goggles resting on its hem and decorated with various cogs and thin silver chains, sits on a head of pale hair which falls slightly below his shoulders, untied and highlighted with a single streak of red.

the way he dances is different to any prior experiences you’ve had; he’s freer and lighter and fleeting, yet also so incredibly here, as if he has no care in the world other than this dance, with you, right now. like a leaf on a breeze, he dances to no order nor routine, but to his own rhythm. when he spins you around, you could almost laugh in exhilaration, and at seeing your pleasure, he smiles.

for he carries an air of weightlessness with him, and his presence brings something refreshingly new as you twirl into the night.

but he cannot stay for long. as the music begins to rise to its climax, you feel him tense as you dance, and he glances over your shoulder, as if catching sight of someone— or as if someone has caught sight of him. he leans close to you, and in a low voice, says, “please forgive me.”

before you can say a word, he presses a cool object into your palm, and is gone as quickly as he came. you immediately notice the absence of his hands on yours, and frown.

a cold sensation on your skin brings your attention to the object in your hand, and you stare at it. on your palm sits a maple leaf crafted of silver and painted with deep reds and fiery oranges; no doubt a token to remember this encounter by. or, perhaps a token to find him by in the future.

you stand alone for the rest of the waltz. when the music ends, you tuck away the silver leaf with a wistful sigh.

when you look up, the stranger is nowhere to be seen. instead, a new figure stands before you, a hand outstretched towards yours.

it is time for the last dance.

though cyno says nothing, something about him strikes you as familiar. you cannot tell what it is, though you’re certain you’ve met before. unlike some others here, you do not find his presence intimidating. instead, you are intrigued, and find yourself stepping closer.

the final waltz begins, starting as a gentle background chime, and your hand hovers above his. he waits, patiently.

he wears a large cloak that sweeps his ankles, the material a deep indigo; so dark that, at a glance, it appears black. golden patterns dance on its hem, shimmering like a desert sun as it sways rhythmically with his movements. it is fastened loosely around his shoulders with a brooch constructed of clock cogs, both large and small, the design so intricate to the point of awe. from the brooch hangs a delicate bronze chain, connecting the two sections of fabric.

on his outstretched hand lies a fingerless glove of a thin netting, ornamentations and symbols woven into the fabric, exquisite in their subtlety. he wears a slim golden ring on one finger, in which a ruby glints.

though a hood shrouds his face, you can see that the mask he wears whittled from ebony, patterns of dark swirls still visible in the black wood. the edges of the mask are both gilded and ornamented with intricate designs of aureate lace.

wide, angular eye sockets lined with gold leaf markings hide his eyes, but though you cannot see them beyond the shadowed openings, you can tell that they are fixed on you. on his face, only the minute smile that forms on his lips as you finally place your hand in his is visible.

below the left eye are painted two lines, one vertical, the other long and curling; an eye of horus. over the right eye is woven a netting of gold thread, fine as spider silk. a single polished black gemstone embellishes the forehead, elegant in its simplicity, framed in twisting lace. when it catches the light, it shines like a sliver of moonlight against a starless midnight sky.

he draws you closer— not uncomfortably so— and you make no effort to resist. rather, you find yourself lost in the circling sway of the music and the way your heart races when he dips you suddenly, eyes locked on to yours and burning with a cool intensity.

you stay there for one moment, two, and then he pulls you back up.

as you dance, it seems as if this moment will last forever; a timeless waltz to which there is no end, and no beginning, only the thrill of spinning under a high vaulted ceiling in a crowd of masks and secrets.

but all good things must come to an end (for that is what gives them value), and after what feels like forever, the music fades away, and you must part; as is the way of these dances.

and so he lets go of your hand, and you must hold yourself back from reaching out to grab it once more. he inclines his head to you, as if in thanks. you return the gesture, though you wish only that this dance did not have to end so soon.

the faintest flicker of a smile crosses his face, and then he turns away, and is lost to the crowd.

you see none of them again as you depart.

———————————————————————

the crowd disperses into the night, in all their masks and waistcoats and gowns, regaling one another with their experiences in voices tight with excitement.

you leave the hall alone, having danced three dances (once with an alchemist, once with a criminal, and once with a mage), and had your heart stolen with each in turn.

an alchemist, a criminal, a mage. one courteous, one free, one familiar.

as you walk, your mind lingers on the question,

if you were to see them again, who would you choose?

let us love each other until the end.

pairing inumaki toge x gn reader

word count 11,219

notes for @kodzucafe’s ‘a safe place’ collab. this is incredibly late, but thank you so very much for letting me join! read the other entries +here :) i made a little spotify playlist for this fic, so if you’d like some background music, click +here! @bunnys-babies​ @cursedarchiveblog @http-404-error-unknown

TAGS JJK SPOILERS! (this is my own spin on what happens to inumaki after shibuya arc, but there are major spoilers with regards to that arc, inumaki, and events that happen after that arc), non-sexual nudity, aged-up characters (it’s entirely sfw, but i have specified that the characters are graduates, so they’re 21+ in my mind), (emotional) hurt/comfort, angst that is resolved, codependency because they are both Going Through It (reader has a raging saviour and inferiority complex. inumaki is a mess because of spoiler reasons) but they heal! somewhat! friends to lovers.

minors (under 18), ageless, and blank blogs are fine to interact with this fic, but please don’t follow me or you will be blocked.

+

Morning arrives softly with the first rays of sunlight spilling through open curtains, soaking your room in its honeyed warmth. Everything in its reach — yesterday’s clothes sprawled across the tv stand, the half-empty bottles atop them, the man lying just a side table’s width away from you — is swathed in its Midas touch, drowsing in gold, waiting patiently for a kinder hand to break the spell.

A breeze drifts through the window as you rub your eyes awake. It’s a tad too mean for the moment, softened by the chirpy trills that accompany it, the faint beat of wings as birds soar past. You see Inumaki scratch his cheek before turning around, nestling further beneath his blanket.

A few more minutes of rest won’t hurt him, you decide, walking to the bathroom rather than to his side.

There’s only one more roll of toilet paper left and his mouthwash has just a few drops in it. You add both to this week’s shopping list as you brush your teeth, grimacing at the dark circles beneath your eyes. The water is too cold on your face, but it serves as a decent wake-up call, taking the last few dredges of sleep down the drain with it. Before you leave, you pop open the toothpaste, squeeze a dollop onto Inumaki’s brush, and leave it to balance on the brush holder like you always do. By the time you return, he’s turned around again and a pout curls at his lips.

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Hi, I was wondering if I could request Hiei going back to the human world to visit his s/o? (Post season 4 tournament) thank you

i love this prompt and had to jump on it the moment i saw it in my inbox. hope i did it justice!

set immediately after the last episode.

homebound (hiei x gender neutral!reader, yu yu hakusho)

You’re exhausted by the time you return from the beach, your skin tender and salt-sore from the long hours you and the group had spent playing in the water. It had been a fun day - a peaceful day, and you had grown to count each day like it as a gift. 

It had been nice to have the group together again. Even Genkai had joined you at one point, though none of Yusuke’s playful urging had succeeded in coaxing her into the water.

Your smile gains a wistful edge as you remember Keiko’s joy upon Yusuke’s return. She had refused to sit and pine while he was gone, but it was clear to everyone how much she’d missed him. 

You can admit, at least in the privacy of your own thoughts, to feeling a little heartsore after witnessing their reunion. You had hoped that a certain fire apparition would follow Yusuke home from demon world, and had been unable to curb the disappointment you’d felt as the day lengthened and there was still no sign of Hiei.

You sigh, toeing off your shoes and dropping your bag by the door. You had done your best to ignore your unhappiness at Hiei’s absence, not wanting to sour the air on such a joyous day, but you knew at least Kurama and Botan had picked up on it, the former having walked you home despite it being out of his way and the latter spending most of the day glued to your side, doing her utmost to keep you distracted.

Now that you’re alone with nothing but your thoughts, though, it’s difficult to stave off your melancholy, your body and mind too wearied by the events of the day to divert from the missing fire apparition.

You don’t know what you expected. Just because Yusuke and Kurama had chosen to return to living world didn’t mean Hiei would make the same choice, not even for you. It hurt to acknowledge, but it was the truth. You’re just human, after all, and Hiei had been barred from demon world for so long, he might never want to leave it now that he’d returned.

Your skin stings as you slip into bed, foregoing a shower in favor of slipping into comfortable pajamas and tugging your blankets over your shoulders. Heat blossoms along your arms and legs, but it’s a pale imitation of the warmth you’ve missed, and you blow out a breath, closing your eyes in defiance against your spiraling thoughts.

Pathetic, you think, and it’s laughably ironic that the voice in your head sounds exactly like Hiei’s. 

*

It’s late into the night when you blink your eyes open, staring in muddled confusion at your bedroom wall.

Other than the small sliver of moonlight creeping through your curtains the room is dark, and there’s a line of heat against your back that wasn’t there when you first slipped into bed.

“You smell like salt.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. 

“You would too if you’d been at the beach all day,” you mumble sleepily, hiding your smile in the warmth of your pillow.

There are fingers spread loosely over your stomach, warmth bleeding through your shirt to sink into your skin. You reach for them, tangling them with yours, and feel inordinately pleased when Hiei allows the gesture without comment.

You don’t ask why he’s there, or why he had chosen now of all times to return. You don’t ask him when he’s leaving, because you know he’s not here to stay. 

You don’t say anything at all, actually. You just breathe in the dark, your fingers moving gingerly against his. There are more calluses there than you remember, though everything else feels the same - the sharp bends of his knees tucked beneath yours, the texture of his hair against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body. 

You want to turn over, but the thought of actually seeing him - of him seeing you -  scares you to death. It’s been two years. You haven’t changed much, but you have changed. Would it matter? Would he care?

“Your thoughts are louder than that oaf.”

You laugh a little, his acerbic wit - well-missed, and still as prickly as ever - serving to put you at ease.

“Kuwabara misses you, you know,” you tell him, knowing without needing to look that his lips have twisted into a scowl. 

He doesn’t refute your claim, though. Instead, you feel the tip of his nose brush against the back of your neck. “And you?”

You blink in the darkness, confused and almost angry. He can’t really be asking if you’d missed him, can he? 

You’ve been gone for two years, you want to say. I've been waiting follows quickly after, though you manage to restrain both to the cage of your throat, and no further. 

“Idiot,” you mutter instead. 

“Fool.” It’s little more than a breath against the nape of your neck, and still you flush beneath its weight. You’ve heard that moniker more than once - usually directed at Kuwabara - but you've certainly never heard it in that tone, wrapped up in a layer of what you might dare to call affection.

Quiet affection, but affection nonetheless. 

It emboldens you. Loosens your tongue.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me.” It’s an admission that you’d kept secret from all except yourself, not wanting to deal with the pity or platitudes - no matter how well-meant - the others would give you if they knew. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then another, and another. You would think him gone if it weren’t for the fingers still tangled with yours.

But then there’s softness against the back of your neck, a hint of wetness followed by a sudden sharp sting. 

“Did you just - ?” you mumble, attempting to reach back to feel the mark he’d just left on you - the bite he’d just given you. 

But Hiei doesn’t let you get far, his grip firming around your hand and his arm tightening around your waist. 

“Foolish,” he mutters, his brow pressed against the back of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath seeps through your shirt and leaves a circle of heat on your skin. “Do not mistake my absence for apathy. My… intentions have not changed.” 

It’s as close to a declaration as you’ll ever get from the prickly fire apparition, and in truth, no flowery praise or fervent confession would have affected you half as much as Hiei quietly dispelling your worst fear.

You would say something if you had the words, but you’re afraid that if you speak, your voice will do something embarrassing like crack or break right down the middle. So instead, you pull Hiei’s hand up to your lips and press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Hn.” His voice is little more than a huff, his fingers twitching in your grip, and you grin against his skin.

And just like that, the words come. 

“Welcome home.”

Would you write a Hiei from YYH request where the human reader agrees to be bait for a mission while Hiei is away and he comes back and finds out? You can decide what stage they’re at (like still crushing, in between or together, etc)

ooh, i loved this prompt! i hope you enjoy what i did with it!

run to you (hiei x gender neutral!reader, yu yu hakusho)

You’d only wanted to help.

Naive, Hiei would have called you. Foolish.

He’d be right, you think with a grimace, clamping your lower lip between your teeth to prevent another whimper from escaping. Botan squeezes your hand, her brows furrowed in concern, and Kurama shoots you a sympathetic glance but continues tending to your wound. The scent of the salve he’d fashioned from one of his plants blends with the cloying musk of your blood.

You feel sick.

“It’s deep,” Kurama murmurs, spirit energy seeping from his fingers into your wound. Over his shoulder, you can see Yusuke pacing, his hands trembling before curling into fists at his sides. “I can facilitate the healing process, but it will take time.”

You grit your teeth. Already the agony of the demon’s claws has begun to fade, though that doesn’t stop the tears from wetting your cheeks or the pained grimaces that twist your lips.

Struggling to focus on anything but the sensation of your flesh knitting back together under Kurama’s ministrations, you manage to catch Yusuke’s gaze, and though the spirit detective jerks to a stop as soon as he notices your stare, he’s quick to avert his eyes.

You want to tell him it’s alright, that he isn’t at fault for what happened to you. You had volunteered to bait the demon out into the open - it had already attacked three humans and nearly killed another, and you’d wanted to contribute to its capture. You’d known the risks.

“Focus on yourself for now,” Kurama chides you gently, no doubt guessing the direction of your thoughts by the helpless expression you’d been casting at the spirit detective. “We could all benefit from a little guilt. We should not have allowed - ” His words trail off suddenly, jade eyes darting toward where the spirit detective has resumed his pacing. “Yusuke - !”

But it’s too late.

Hiei’s fist connects with Yusuke’s jaw with a resounding crack, the spirit detective hitting the ground with enough force to shatter concrete. At the sight of the fire apparition you struggle to pick yourself up, but you’re stayed by the gentle press of Kurama’s hand and the firmness of his voice.

“That’s enough, Hiei.”

Even though it’s not directed at you, Hiei’s glare sears you to the bone. “This was his idea, was it not?”

“This isn’t the time, Hiei,” Botan interjects, lips downturned in disapproval.

Hiei’s curled fists spit flames. “Isn’t the time - !”

“Hiei.” Your voice is a reedy gasp, but it might as well be a shout for how quickly it captures Hiei’s attention. His teeth clench, his eyes darting from your face to the wound at your throat and back again.

“Tch.” The flames licking at his wrists disperse, though his thunderous expression doesn’t waver. Rather than ready another strike for Yusuke, however, he approaches you.

“Will it heal?” he asks Kurama, his voice deepened with the vestiges of anger you know he still feels, though his eyes never stray from yours.

Kurama sighs, his hand easing away from your throat with a last burst of spirit energy. “With rest,” he confirms.

“Then rest you shall receive,” Botan decrees, her voice injected with as much of her usual cheer as she can muster in this situation. “Come now, we’ll help you home - “

“We’ve had enough of your help.” Hiei’s voice is little more than a growl, and though Botan acts unaffected, her smile twitches at the edges.

Without another word, Hiei bends and scoops you into his arms. You can do little but mouth a silent thank you to Kurama and Botan over the fire apparition’s shoulder as he carries you away. Yusuke stares after you with a fixed expression, the side of his face scuffed and a little charred from Hiei’s punch, and you give him a smile you hope is assuring.

The trek home is a quiet one. Hiei’s pace is steady, though lacking the speed you know he’s capable of. His anger fails to trump his concern for you, it seems, and a small, tired smile curls your lips despite the disaster the night had become.

“Wasn’t Yusuke’s fault,” you croak, wincing at the strain on your throat but knowing you need to explain.

Hiei scoffs but says nothing. His body runs hot against yours, heat seeping through his clothes and into your skin, and though it’s a welcome contrast to the cold, hard ground and the tacky wetness of your blood spilling out beneath you, knowing it’s attributed to his anger urges you to continue.

“I volunteered,” you tell him, curling your fingers in his shirt. You wish he would look at you, rather than pinning his gaze on the horizon.

“Then you’re a fool.” The words should sting, but the ire behind them falls flat in the wake of Hiei’s grip firming around you, pulling you closer against his chest.

He’s angry, yes, but it’s more than anger that had wreathed his fists in flames.

“How did you find me?” You already know the answer, but the confirmation feels like a fitting punishment somehow.

“Your blood.” Your heart climbs into your throat. Even without the benefit of a demon’s enhanced senses, the scent of your own blood had overwhelmed you. Even now, it clings to your nose, your collar soaked with remnants from the wound the demon had inflicted on you.

And there had been so much of it.

Your next exhale is a wet one. “Sorry,” you rasp, pushing your cheek against the curve of his shoulder. You try to imagine it - Hiei’s blood guiding you to him, only to find him wounded and in pain in a pool of red - and you shudder.

Hiei slows to a stop; this close, you can feel more than hear the small breath he releases. “You put yourself at risk,” he tells you, and finally his dark eyes seek out yours, catching your gaze and holding it. “Do not do it again.”

It’s an order and a plea all at once, insomuch as you’ve ever heard Hiei plead for anything. You wet your lips, and though your throat aches with the effort of it, the words come easy.

“I won’t.”

Stop and Smell the Lilies. Scaramouche x Reader

Word count: 1.6k. Note: i uh. really just wanted to write some fluff. so this happened as a result. it feels weird writing about scaramouche and not making him or the reader suffer… there’s only good vibes. i guess they get a break for now. 

“You’re late.” 

This is the first thing you’re greeted with upon ascending to your meeting place. Underneath the shade of a dancing sakura tree, its petals fluttering around in a pink rain, stands a highly irate individual. With his arms crossed over his chest, he glowers down at you while you hobble up the slope. You return his scowl with a full smile, to which he averts his gaze, likely sensing the teasing words that would soon target him. 

“What a gentleman my lover is,” you swoon, sighing for dramatic effect, “Offering me his hand after my cumbersome journey. I have braved torrential downpours, scaled mountains, and waded through forests to see you, only to be treated in such an uncouth manner?” 

Scaramouche appears unimpressed with your theatrical rendition. “The walk from where you live to here is ten minutes at the most. I’m not the director for a play, so stop acting like you’re auditioning for one.” 

Keep reading

okay but have we considered waking up with rindou cause idk he's pretty and he's probably pretty when he sleeps and yeah i wanna kiss his face pls and ty

[ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ] — 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

you wake up to the bed shifting, rindou’s body turning to face you as he adjusts the sheets. shuffling closer, you grin, kissing his bare chest while his eyes stay closed. you know he’s shifted to block the sun from your eyes with his body—though he’ll never admit it—but now that you’re awake, you don’t think you want to fall back asleep.

not with the sight that’s greeting you.

“quit staring,” he says flatly, not even looking at you to know your eyes are fixed on him. pouting, you rest your chin on his pec as you look up. his jawline looks incredibly kissable from this angle, the sharpness and well defined slant making your stomach do somersaults. so you do, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw, trailing a few down until you reach his chin.

“why?” you murmur. “i could be admiring you, instead.”

“y/n, go to sleep,” he snaps, lifting the blanket up and covering your head with it. giggling, you poke your face out, meeting his irritated one as he stares down at you. his eyes are soft, though, staring at you with love that he hides behind his irises, the gentleness he keeps stowed away peeking through his orbs when you cup his cheek.

“can’t,” you grin. “you’re too pretty,” you whisper. moving up, you kiss his cheeks, then his nose, and lastly, his forehead. rindou’s utterly tired of you. each day there’s a new reason he adds to his list of why you’re much too troublesome for his time, but he can never seem to let you go. you hold his heart with a vice grip, you just keep coming even when he’s pushing, and you stay. when he comes home expecting you to be gone, just when he thinks he’s shaken you off, you’re waiting for him, latching on and holding tighter.

and try as he might, he can’t forget about you. not the way your hands cradle his face, not the way you gently tend to the wounds he comes home with, not the way you reach for his hand in your sleep with a smile on your face, and not the way your soft lips feel against his rough and chapped ones. everything about you is engraved into the smallest crevice of his heart and mind and soul, and he hates you—he can’t stand that you make him love you.

“i hate it when you open your mouth,” he grumbles. despite his words, his arm curls around your body and tugs it down against his chest. “and you missed a spot.” and when you tilt your head up, batting your eyelashes at him innocently, he purses his lips at you. you did it on purpose, he realizes, but he still leans down and kisses you softly on the lips—and it’s somewhat needy, even.

“you know what you are?” you hum, rubbing your thumb over the warm skin of his cheek. “a pretty boy,” you whisper. “you’re a really pretty boy, you know that?”

“great, thank you. now sleep,” he sighs. “it’s still early,” he adds, voice a bit softer.

“you’ll be gone by the time i wake up,” you pout, burying your face into his chest. his hand rubs circles into the small of your back, and in his head, rindou promises he’ll do everything he can to return to you by dinner time. he’ll sit and have it with you—because he knows you’ll wait to eat when he gets back, just like you always insist, and he hates the thought of you sitting with an empty stomach.

but you’re stubborn, he knows that. it’s why you’ve weaseled your way into his life in the first place.

“i’ll wake you before i go,” he mutters. “you can do my tie since you like doing it so much.” inwardly, he melts a little at the smile he feels against his skin.

“promise?”

“are you serious?”

“rin, come on,” you insist, poking his chest. he rolls his eyes at you, just like he always does. but he caves, just like he always does.

“fine. i promise.”

and the words mean more than that. i love you, they whisper, the meaning weaving into your mind the same way his fingers do with yours. i love you.

SHOWTIME! | haitani r.

haitani rindou x fem!reader ft. haitani ran, sanzu haruchiyo, kokonoi hajime, kakucho, akashi takeomi, sano manjiro

summary: you pushed your boyfriend just a bit too far while he was trying to stream a game with his friends

warnings: fem!reader, college au, mean dom!rindou, exhibitionism (can hear, not see), oral (f->m), rough sex, unprotected sex, brief manhandling, humiliation, slight impact play, implied masturbation (m), pet names (princess, pretty girl)

wordcount: 4.2k

notes: for @spookygeto's streamer collab

It’d been hours, you were sure of it, and you couldn’t bear it any longer. He swore--he swore--that he wouldn’t be on long, that he would actually spend time with you and you knew you shouldn’t have believed him. It was never just one match when Rindou got on with his stupid fucking friends but every time you naively held out hope.

Sighing from where you were leaning against the doorframe, you watched Rindou’s fingers fly across his keyboard, his gaze trained on the computer and headphones blocking out any sound other than the game and his friends.

Your eyes flickered over to the computer, noting the fact that he was streaming but his camera was turned off, as per usual. Sometimes, it amazed you how many fangirls your boyfriend had for being a streamer that never showed his face online but you supposed it was understandable, Rindou had an attractive voice, you would be the first to admit that.

You wandered over to his desk quietly, his eyes flickered up to the mirror he had above his computer, meeting yours briefly. He raised his eyebrows, questioning you, you pouted as you drew closer--pouting harder when he turned his attention back toward the game.

Kneeling next to him, you pressed your cheek against his thigh and looked up at him, “You’re so pretty, Rin,” you said softly as to not have your voice picked up by his mic, eyes trained on his pretty purple ones, watching the reflection of his game in his irises, watching the way his pretty purple and black hair strayed in his face.

Rindou looked down at you briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips for a moment before you heard Sanzu Haruchiyo shriek something through his headphones and he tore his gaze off of you and back toward the computer.

You pouted as he redirected his attention back toward the game, laughing at whatever was going on. Sighing you rested your head back down against his leg, cheek smushed against his thigh as you looked up at him through your lashes, hating the way he didn’t even spare you a second look.

You should just go, you told yourself, an unwelcome feeling stirring in your chest at the genuine smile spread across Rindou’s face as he talked with his friends.

He promised you time, another voice argued, take your promised time if he won’t give it to you freely.

Your eyes drifted to Rindou’s sweatpants, eyes focusing in on the outline of cock through the gray material, gaze shooting back up to where his eyes were following the movements on the screen rapidly, not sparing you any attention.

While his concentration was entirely on the game, you shifted under the desk and between his legs, movements going unnoticed. You tapped his thigh, watching as Rindou’s brow furrowed in confusion as he absently lifted his hips off of the chair, tongue darting out as his fingers tapped furiously at his keyboard.

Dumbass, you thought to yourself, albeit fondly, as you slipped his sweats down to his thighs. Rindou hadn’t even realized what you had done until you freed his cock from his boxers and he inhaled at the feeling of the cool air against it.

His gaze tore from the game and darted down to where you were kneeling in between his legs, fingers ghosting the length of his cock. His eyes were dark with warning as he watched you, hissing as your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, pumping it twice before you brushed your thumb over the precum beading at his slit.

You watched him scramble to turn the microphone off on his headsets. “Keep your mic on,” you complained quietly, “or are you afraid you’re gonna be loud.”

“Not right now,” he muttered and you could see the veins of his forearms bulging as his entire body tensed as you leaned in to lick at the precum leaking down his tip. Voice strangled, he said, “We finally dragged fuckin’ Mikey away from that other group he plays with, we gotta focus on this match.”

“Then focus,” you told him quietly, leaning up to lick a stripe up the length of his cock, watching him let out a heavy breath as he tilted his head back, that stupid matching tattoo he got with his group of friends on broad display.

“OI! RINDOU, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? STOP FUCKING AROUND!” you heard one of his friends, Kokonoi Hajime, you recognized, shouting through his headsets and Rindou let out a low groan, shooting you a lidded glare before he turned his microphone back on, focusing back on the game albeit with shakier hands.

“Fuck off, Koko,” Rindou said roughly, “My girl came in, had to talk to her real quick.”

“Y/n’s there? Tell her I said hi,” Ran said immediately, his other friends echoing the sentiment. Rindou only glared down at you, you smiled from where you were leaning your cheek on his inner thigh, lazily pumping his cock.

Rindou took in a sharp breath as he set his gaze back on his computer screen and you leaned up on your knees, resting your elbows on his thighs as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking lightly and swirling your tongue around it. Rindou’s fingers faltered from where they were flying across his keyboard.

“Rindou, what the fuck?! How did you miss that?” you heard Sanzu shout and Rindou told him to go fuck himself. You smiled when you noticed one of his legs trembling. You pulled off of his tip with a soft pop, running your hands up his thighs and under his sweatshirt, nails tracing patterns on his abdomen. You watched as the muscle tensed under your touch, his body hunching in slightly and a grimace crossing his face as he shot you another irritated look.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. Tell me to stop and I will, you said silently. Understanding what you were getting across, Rindou only sneered at you, going back to his game.

You smiled.

One hand still lightly scratching the contours of the abdomen, your other drifted back to his upper thigh, bracing itself there as you leaned in to capture Rindou’s cock between your lips. Rindou hissed at the suddenness of the action. Shifting up more on your knees and forcing your throat to relax, you bobbed your head on his cock, inhaling deep through your nose as your lips brushed the base of his cock, desperately trying to stop yourself from gagging and making noise.

Rindou choked on his breath, coughing violently, and his cock twitched sharply in your mouth--tears stinging at your eyes as it stretched out your throat. Your nails dug into the skin of his thigh as you pulled halfway off his cock, tongue tracing up the vein on the underside of his cock, sucking hard at his tip cringing lightly at the salty taste of his precum before pulling off again and looking up at him.

You could hear a mesh of voices shouting at Rindou from his headphones but Rindou had his eyes squeezed shut and one hand clasped around his mouth, head tilted down. Haitani Rindou was good at a lot of things but controlling his reactions was not one of them. Haitani Rindou was loud and responsive in bed, and it was something that you appreciated a lot and he despised because no matter how hard he tried to shut himself up he couldn’t.

The glare he shot you was nothing short of lethal when he finally reopened his eyes and dropped his hand from his mouth, lavender eyes dark and hooded, lips pressed together tight and twisted down.

You smiled at him again, his glare darkened.

Leaning in, you placed wet kisses along the length of his cock, feeling his abdomen spasm underneath your hands at the action. Just as you were about to take his cock back into your mouth, one of his hands curled around your hair, dragging you up.

Your eyes widened in shock, watching as he leaned forward to press a few buttons on his keyboard, ending the stream and closing out of the game. You heard his friends screaming at him from his headphones, Sanzu being the loudest but Rindou only spit a few curses at them as he dragged you rather harshly over to his bed.

“Rindou,” you said, wincing at the painful grip on your hair but he only flattened his other palm against your back and shoved you face-first down onto his bed. Before you could try to push yourself onto your knees, Rindou was straddling your back, pulling your head up and forcing something over your ears.

“Rindou, what the fuck is going on?” you heard Sanzu spit directly in your ears.

“Dude, why did you disconnect? We’re getting fucked,” Kakucho asked.

“Come on, man, are you shitting us right now? We just fucking lost, you know how long it took us to get Mikey to play?” Kokonoi complained.

Rindou leaned in close to the microphone, chest flush against your back and cock pressed against your ass, “My girl wanted to play a different game, you should be thanking me for the front row seat, assholes,” he said lowly, and you turned your head to look at your boyfriend, eyes wide as the others on the call quieted down.

“Rin-” you began, voice wavering as he leaned back on his heels, shifting off of you.

“Thought you wanted the mic on,” Rindou spat, dragging you closer to him, grip bruising around your thighs. Distantly, you could hear his friends mocking you through the headset but all you could focus on was Rindou, “Made us lose the match, least you can do is give ‘em a show, yeah?”

“Yeah, give us a show, y/n-chan,” you heard Sanzu jeer into your ear from the headset.

“Mm, let us hear you, pretty girl,” Ran cooed, “Wanna hear how good Rinrin can fuck you, bet I can do it better.”

You inhaled sharply as you felt Rindou tug your shorts down harshly, looking back at him nervously because he wasn’t really about to fuck you with all of his friends and his brother listening, was he?

Tell me to stop and I will, the same mocking look you had sent him before was now directed your way and you could only glare at him. He didn’t back out, so you wouldn’t either.

“You hear that?” Kokonoi Hajime cooed, “Thinks she likes the sound of that, maybe Rindou doesn’t fuck his bitch good enough.”

“Koko,” Kakucho warned but he was cut off by Ran’s loud laughter.

“Is that it, princess? Need me to teach my little brother how to fuck you? Want me to make him watch as I split you open on my cock, hm?” Ran’s voice was cruel, mocking, tears sprung to your eyes.

“N-No,” you said, “No, I-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rindou said from behind you and you gasped when you felt his fingers slip between your folds to press at your entrance, smearing your slick around messily, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to them 'less I tell you to.”

You shut your mouth immediately even as Rindou’s friends started mocking you and you weren’t sure if wanted to cry or if you wanted Rindou to just hurry up and fuck you. You felt pathetic because while you listened to his friends make fun of you for ‘at least being an obedient slut’ you couldn’t stop the heat that was pooling dangerously fast in your lower abdomen.

You wanted to throw up--you shouldn’t be getting turned on from this. You shouldn’t and you knew damn well that Rindou was going to notice and when he did-

“There’s no fuckin’ way you’re actually turned on by this,” Rindou sneered, as if on cue, and you whimpered, humiliation spreading through you as his friends burst into laughter, sharp in your ears. Your eyes blurred with tears as Rindou grabbed your waist to pull you up to your hands and knees in front of him and you let out a shaky breath when you felt his tip nudge against your cunt, slipping against your wet folds. “You fuckin’ are, you like that they’re listening, don’t you? Want them to hear you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore? Maybe I should turn the video on for them too, yeah?”

“N-N-oh-” you couldn’t even finish the protest as Rindou’s hands found themselves in a bruising grip on your hips, fingers digging hard into your skin as he pushed into you without warning, an obscene moan escaping your lips when you felt his cock stretching out your walls, slipping into you almost easily without any prep just from how turned on you were.

Keyword, almost. You grit your teeth as discomfort spread through you, the stretch a strange mixture of pleasure and pain that was unfamiliar to you because Rindou never fucked you without making you cum twice on his tongue and twice on his fingers at least.

It burned and you couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or a bad way because your thoughts were jumbled not only from the feeling of Rindou’s cock splitting you open but also because of his friends’ voices piercing your ears.

“Jesus fucking christ, sounds like a fuckin’ pornstar,” you couldn’t tell who had spoken--Kokonoi, maybe? Takeomi? Yeah, Takeomi.

“Fucks like one too,” that was Ran, “Rindou accidentally sent me a video of them once when tryna send one he took of some guy hacking in the game.”

“Nah man, why the fuck is Rindou the first of us to get a girl? There’s something fundamentally wrong with that, when is it my turn?” That was Kokonoi, you realized.

You whimpered as you felt Rindou draw his hips back, you could feel each and every inch of his cock pressing against your cunt, each vein molding itself into your walls. And you tried, you tried to brace yourself, tried to hold back the moan bubbling in your chest because you knew the microphone connecting you to his friends was right next to your lips but you couldn’t.

Your arms trembled against the bed in anticipation, abdomen and legs tensing and pussy aching at the empty feeling left behind by Rindou’s cock as his tip once again nudged at your opening. But he wasn’t moving, he wasn’t moving and you were sure it was about to be what pushed you to tears rather than all of his friends making fun of you in your ear.

“Rin-” you began taking in a shuddered breath when you heard Sanzu Haruchiyo mock your call of your boyfriend’s name instantly. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, for a moment you hated Rindou. You hated him for making him wear his headphones while his friends were on a call, you hated him for drawing this out when he knew what you wanted and you hated-

Any thought that might’ve been running through your head fizzled away as Rindou bucked his hips into you, a loud cry of his name tearing from your lips silencing all of the boys on the other end of the voice chat. Your arms gave out as Rindou pulled his hips back, snapping them back into you at an almost painful pace--dropping to your elbows as Rindou’s fingers dug deep into the skin of your hips and ass, dragging you back and fucking you onto him as he thrust up into you, hitting you so deep inside that it almost hurt, you swore his tip was brushing your cervix.

You could barely even hear Rindou’s friends in your ears over the sloppy sound of your boyfriend’s cock dragging in and out of your sopping wet cunt, over the filthy sound of skin on skin, over Rindou’s low groans and your piercing, broken moans that were cut off each time Rindou drove his hips into you.

“Holy fuckin shit-”

“... fucking hot, Rindou’s gotta shar-”

“-ucho actin' all holier-than-thou, we all know you’re fuckin’ your fist too.”

“Rindou,” you sobbed, fisting the sheets next to you, “feels s’good, Rin, feels s’good, feels-”

Another high-pitched moan tore from your lips as Rindou brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, the sound ringing throughout the air. That very same hand slid up your body to wrap around your hair, pulling you right off of the mattress, back arched almost painfully but you couldn’t even feel it over the numbing feeling of Rindou’s cock fucking so deep into you.

“Tell them that,” Rindou groaned but his words went in one ear and out the other until his grip tightened, “Tell them.”

“C’mon, princess,” Ran cooed, “tell us how my baby brother’s makin’ you feel, yeah?”

“Makin me feel s’good,” the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, half a slur as your head started going fuzzy from all of the stimulation, “he’s makin’ me feel s’good, Ran.”

“Oh, fuck-” Ran groaned just as Rindou brought another hand down on your ass, making you cry out again.

“Don’t say his fuckin’ name,” Rindou spit out viciously, “Say it again and I’m not gonna let you finish.”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you sobbed, but you weren’t even sure if the words were coming out as you intended and you weren’t even sure what Rindou was telling you, everything felt too hot and you couldn’t even hear yourself over the headphones and the sounds of Rindou driving himself into you over and over and over again.

“Keep going,” Rindou said after a moment and

You hiccuped over your breath, “R-Rin makes me feel s’good, n he’s so big, he’s so bi-ig,” god you should be embarrassed, you knew you would be whenever you came back to but you were too fucked out on your boyfriend’s cock to care, “makes me feel the best, makes me fe-”

“Bet I could make you feel even better, pretty,” Sanzu interrupted you, “Should convince your lil boyfriend to let-”

“No!” you said, “N’you can’t, Rin makes me feel the best, Haru-”

You weren’t even able to finish his name, cut off by another gasp and resounding smack as Rindou slapped your ass again, “What the fuck did I just tell you?” he seethed, but you could barely hear him over the near-pornographic moan of Sanzu Haruchiyo ringing through your ear.

Oh god, did he just cu-

Rindou’s grip on your hair tightened, your mind going blank as he drove his cock deep into you again, his free hand slipping from his harsh hold on your hip to rub at your clit, your lips parted in a silent moan as you felt him tug lightly at your clit, body spasming at the action. Letting go of your hair, Rindou brought his other hand back to your waist so he could fuck you faster, harder, at a brutal pace that had you crying out with each thrust, that had your mind half-dazed and your jaw slack.

Your upper body dropped limp against the bed without Rindou holding you up, cheek flush against the mattress and eyes rolling back as Rindou dragged your body back to meet him for every thrust, fingers playing with your clit like one of his stupid games. His name left your lips in a mantra, a series of nonstop high-pitch chants, his name was the only intelligible thought running through your head as he brought you closer and closer to your high.

“Fuck, sounds-”

You were gonna cum, you could feel it-

“... nzu came all over-”

But you can’t, are you really gonna let them all hear?

“...f your brother doesn’t let us hit, I swear-”

Heat spread through your body fast, too fast, you couldn’t fucking control it--you couldn’t even tell if it was from pleasure or humiliation as your pants and cries of Rindou’s name grew louder and louder.

“...so fuckin’ hot-”

Desperately, you tried to slap your hand over your mouth but Rindou grabbed it before you could try to muffle the noise, you sobbed, head almost feeling like it was floating from how close you were from being pushed over the edge.

“-n’t believe Rindou-”

They’d never let you live this down, you had to see most of them every day, how would you be able to look them in the eyes-

“Princess, convince your boyf-”

Rindou leaned over you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he rolled his hips slow into, hitting impossibly deeper, “Hurry the fuck up ‘n cum.”

Your entire body trembled as Rindou flicked your clit hard, grinding his hips deep into you as he attached his lips to the back of your neck, sucking deep bruises down your spine and moaning shamelessly against your skin as your walls spasmed around him. A piercing moan of his name left from your lips as you felt your high wash over you, nails ripping into the bedsheets and body tensing. You could feel Rindou’s hips stutter and still against you as he came deep inside you and you felt full, too full, too hot, it was all just too much.

“Fuck,” you couldn’t even tell who was speaking as your body fell limp to the bed, mind hazy and fuzzy--Rindou was saying something to you, you could see his lips moving from the corner of your eye but you couldn’t tell what he was saying over the combined sound of his friends loud in your ears and the blood rushing to your head, body shuddering in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Hey, Mikey,” you heard Ran laugh as Rindou reached to take off the headphones, “Bet this is better than your other little group you play with, yeah?”

Everything went eerily quiet once he pulled the headphones off, the only sound in the room was your own heavy pants as you tried to catch your breath and Rindou murmuring something to his friends before wandering over to his computer.

Distantly, you wondered if he really had the audacity to go back to playing his game after all of that, but you were proven wrong a few seconds later when he wandered back to your side, sitting on the bed next to you, headphones out of hand. He brushed your matted hair out of your face before leaning down to press his lips against your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back, cupping your face gently.

You smiled, turning your face to the side to kiss the palm of his hand, he let out a soft breath, the irritated look in his lavender eyes long gone and replaced by a fonder one.

“Love you, y’know?” he murmured and you giggled, the irritated look returned momentarily before disappearing. Haitani Rindou was never the most affectionate man but he tried his best for you,

“Love you too, Rin,” you said, giving his palm another peck.

For a moment, the two of you just rested there, basking in each other’s presence and just as you were about to speak up, his computer began binging incessantly. His friends, you realized after a moment, realization slowly beginning to hit you over what just happened.

Rindou seemed to recognize your distress and his grip on your face tightened slightly, forcing you to look at him, “I’ll kill them if they bother you,” he said, and you knew he meant it from the dark look in his eyes, “Ran-”

Ran-

“Rindou accidentally sent me a video once-”

“Rin,” you said quietly, cutting him off mid-rant, “Ran said something-”

“Ran says a lot of things-”

“Something about a video of us,” you finished, watching his face go red almost immediately. Rindou launched to his feet instantly, moving away from you. You forced yourself to sit up, wincing at the soreness shooting through your body, “Rindou!”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he spit out, refusing to look at you. You stared at him in disbelief, watching as he made a beeline for the bathroom, “Gonna run you a bath.”

“Rin-”

“Gonna run you a bath!” he repeated, louder, slamming the bathroom door behind him. You sighed as you heard the water running, flopping back down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Rin,” you called, knowing that he could hear you over the running water, “I’m gonna beat your ass.”

Rindou didn’t respond, and you tilted your head over to the side to look at his bathroom, watching as he opened the door and glared at you, “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” you demanded.

“I thought I was sending something else,” he snapped, “It’s not my fault my phone spazzed.”

“I’m gonna fuckin' kill you, Rin.”

“You can’t even walk on your own right now, good luck.”

“RINDOU!”

--

taglist: @spookygeto @kennyb0y @portfolio-of-dreams @devinsdaydreams @mortuary-ossuary @sano-obsessed @sugusshi @haitanihime @adeptiixiao @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @crackheadwithtoes @zuuki @hanmascult @4leafcloverwithawhitecraneforyou @hollypastl @kazufuyusluv @imkumichan @meena-in-a-nutshell @aces-high @obsessiontoanime @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @marism @prettyiolanthe @whydohumansss @rinsie @blvebcrry @xenixenxen @manjiroscum @r-xochitl @chaoticwh0re @chifuyuslilkitten @wakasasucker @shibuyawardnetwork

breathe.

⇝ kazuha x gn!reader

⇝ hurt/comfort.

kaedehara kazuha is no stranger to self-loathing. under such a blank exterior, there lies a heart which has been shattered beyond repair; a heart that you have and continue to heal with the love you provide.

kazuha understands. he does.

yet, in his eyes, you are the epitome of perfection. a vessel created in the eyes of a god themselves; what he sees when he looks at you is a star. his star. why is it you look at yourself in such a way? why is it you hate the person he loves, why must you hurt yourself in such a way?

pressing his lips against your forehead, he listens to your cries; with his arms around your waist, kazuha hides you away exactly the way he knows you'd like to be hidden. he holds you close, keeps you safe.

its only when your whimpers silence, when your body stills and your breathing evens out, that he pulls away. all of a sudden, he's too close—he's too close and he's seen too much already, yet you can't bring yourself to pull away.

you're .. tired. exhausted, even. how long had you spent pretending, lying to your loved ones with a smile on your face? this weight that'd been resting on your shoulders for so long is suddenly lifted, there's no more trying, no more lying. not right now.

right now, kazuha holds you close. lets you breathe easy for the first time and hears you out; guilt floods through your system at such a realization, that you'd taken advantage of his kindness, bothered him and ruined his evening with your tears.

despite the voice in the back of your head, the voice that's been mocking you for what feels like centuries, you hold him closer. in this moment, at this time, and only now, kazuha is all yours.

what breaks the silence is kazuha's cooing, a quiet ' shhh, ' that slips out of his mouth when your tears threaten to slip out once again. you feel his hands slide against your skin, comforting; he exhales, slow and steady, urging you to do the same.

when silence reigns over the two of you once again, you find yourself leaning further away from him; desperate. go back to sleep, is what your mind screams at the samurai, yet his grip only tightens.

" ... kazuha. "

" hmmmm ... "

" kazuha .. "

" i know, angel. "

" kazuha .. i'm— " suddenly there are tears rolling down your cheeks once again. " i'm sorry, i— " yet you're silenced, his lips brushing against your skin, calm, composed. kissing your tears away, he pushes your face into his chest.

" there is nothing you should feel sorry for, my love. breathe. "

When the Sakura Flowers Bloom

Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x Reader Warnings: fluff yay! Word Count: ~1.5k A/N: here's some sweet kazuha fluff that i started writing last year and never finished until now

When the sakura flowers begin to bloom and flitter to the ground they cover the streets in pink. Delicate petals that rest on cool stone, faint fragile veins running through silk scented blossoms rest patiently. There’s no rush during the sakura season in Inazuma, not even the Kaiguri or Treasure Hoarders on the island-nation attempt to pull off as many heists or commit illegalities. And for the first time since the end of the Vision Hunt Decree, Kaedehara Kazuha finds himself strolling through the street of elegance with his hands clasped behind his back and a wistful smile gracing his features. He’s no longer a wanted man, his wrists and ankles are free of that invisible binding rope that always seems to pull him back towards his troubles back home. He doesn’t have to worry about the Tenryou Commission soldiers who stand on patrol for they no longer look at him with scrutiny or distaste. Granted, there’s lingering whispers that trail his footsteps followed by the watchful eye of Kujou Sara. But Kaedehara Kazuha doesn’t care, there’s no need for him to. Not while he’s walking alongside Gorou and half listening to his friend mumble about some petty troubles he’s had to face within the past few days. It’s not that the samurai doesn’t care what the General has to say, but his attention has already been long captured by the figure standing with the Kamisato siblings and Thoma. You look as wonderful as ever, beaming beneath the afternoon sun as you swat at Thoma who attempts to shove dango into your mouth. The sparkle in your eyes is a familiar look, one he’s watched for so long, waiting for your gaze to fall upon him. Oh if Tomo could see him now, hopelessly watching as you continue to walk down the streets towards him and his companion.

“You’re staring.” Gorou’s amused voice snaps Kazuha back to the present, earning the General a scowl in return.

“The sakura blooms are much more vibrant this year.” He responds in poetics and Gorou snorts. The General’s known Kazuha long enough to have picked up on his little tells here and there. But he’s also known Kazuha long enough to know how hard the samurai had fallen for you. He’s watched from afar as Kazuha’s attempted to win you over with poetics, extending invitations for late night strolls and offering small gifts. And yet, you never seem to pick up on Kazuha’s motives. The pair watch as Thoma happens to glance up, catching sight of the expression Kazuha has on his face. The samurai can’t do anything as Thoma nudges you gently, leaning over to say something. And then you look up, eyes searching ahead until they find maple red eyes and a grin breaks across your features. You raise your hand to wave at him and he nearly flushes in embarrassment when you call out his name, prompting some people around to turn their heads at you, and then him. Gorou lets out huff of amusement and pushes his friend forward slightly, directing the two of them in the direction of you and your friends, who have now taken sight of the General and samurai.

Thoma greets them first, offering some snacks he had just bought at one of the vendors. Ayato greets them cordially, but despite his formality, Gorou and Kazuha know that he’s happy to see the two of them. Since Inazuma’s shift to opening up to the rest of Teyvat, they’ve all had the chance to spend more time with one another, catching up on stories and adventures. You had always looked forward to hearing Kazuha’s stories, the ones about nations across the oceans. He told of the land amidst monoliths and the dandelion wind, places you had only read about in books and heard about from rumours and news from travellers. Fontaine, Natlan, Mondstadt, nations you had only dreamed of visiting, had been woven into poetics by the Anemo wielding samurai. He had always held a softer spot for you, as cliche as it may be. Gorou was always the one to point it out but Kazuha tended to ignore him, not exactly eager to listen to the General lecture him about his friendship with you.

“We’re heading to Komore Teahouse, would you like to join us?” Ayaka addresses the pair and Kazuha tears his eyes away from the sakura blossom that had fallen on your shoulder. You don’t notice his lingering eyes, instead focused on what your friend was saying. Gorou nods while Kazuha hesitates for a moment.

“I think— I think I’ll stay out here for a bit longer.” Kazuha nods.

“I’ll join you later, too.” Your statement makes him look over at you in surprise, not at all expecting you to sit out on a tea session, but he isn’t upset by all means. Rather it’s an opportunity for him to spend some time with you, at least he hopes. He watches as his group of friends bids the two of you farewell before walking down the street, leaving you to stand next to him. You don’t say anything at first, only looking back at him as you start to walk in the opposite direction, towards the grassy sitting area just a little ways from the streets.

“Do you have any aspirations for the new year?” You ask, voice a bit soft as you glance up at the sakura tree towering over your heads. Kazuha’s silent for a moment, contemplating what he wants to say. He has a million things at the tip of his tongue, words coated with honey, sweet and saccharine that are ready to fall from his lips. And with the way the sakura petals fall around you, he can feel more poetics bubbling up inside of him. But nothing comes out.

“I want to travel.” You offer him a glance, “Inazuma’s open, I want to explore the world for a bit.” Your Vision seems to agree and Kazuha catches it glinting in the light as it’s attached to your clothes. You didn’t have the chance to escape Inazuma before the borders were locked. Instead, you found solace with the Kamisatos, narrowly escaping the soldiers who had come to your home in demands of your Vision.

“Beidou’s scheduled to arrive in a few weeks before she takes off for Liyue for bit.” Kazuha doesn’t look at you as he’s speaking, staring straight up at the sakura flowers. He doesn’t trust himself enough to look at you right now, not when he’s about to extend his offer.

“If you’d like, you can journey with us. I’m sure Beidou will have no qualms with you joining us for this leg.” Kazuha raises his hand to catch a falling blossom, holding his breath as he waits for an answer. Archons he’s usually composed, usually keeping himself together, with no problems offering propositions and suggestions but that composure is slipping through his glass with you around.

You’re silent for a moment and Kazuha wants to disappear.

“If it’s okay with the Captain, I’d love to.” Your response has him looking at you in surprise, not expecting you to actually agree to his offer. “I’ll have you to journey with me.” That one smile stretches across your lips and Kazuha lets out his breath. It’s that same smile that you’ve always offered towards him, the one where your eyes seem to soften and you tilt your head slightly as if you were amused by him. Archons, he loves that smile.

---------

One year later and Kaedehara Kazuha is the bane of your existence. He has no shame in sending you smirks from across the room, honey coated poetics falling from his lips as his eyes flicker to you in amusement. One year is enough time for your relationship with Kazuha to shift from a close friendship to something a little more. One with shared kisses under a full moon and exchanges of sweet words upon arriving at a new port. Now, he sits upright, poised as ever as he recalls the most recent adventure aboard the Alcor to the others over dinner. You have half a mind to pinch his hand from where it rests on the table, but you refrain from doing so with the Kamisato siblings, Thoma, Kokomi, and Gorou sitting at the same table. Since your first trip aboard the Alcor, Beidou had excitedly welcomed you into the crew, quickly pulling you aside during the first night to gush over how happy she was that Kazuha was finally bringing you along. She was a bit tipsy and she let loose a few secrets that the samurai would probably be embarrassed to find out that you now knew, but nothing too bad that would send him into hiding in embarrassment. And finally a year later, you and Kazuha had returned to Inazuma, just in time to watch the Sakura blossoms bloom. You had spent hours strolling through Inazuma City, poking into shops and chatting with the owners, pleased to see how business had gotten better since the end of the Vision Hunt Decree and the opening of Inazuma. But travelling the world with Kazuha, oh, that was probably the best part of it all.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 A/N: procrastinating work and in pain :')

PLEASE, LET ME KISS YOU UNDER THE STARS TONIGHT.

if the cost for your love is for her to bring the stars to their knees, she shall do just that.

pairing: mona/gender neutral reader (romantic)

category: fluff, implied to be modern!au, pretty girl used @ mona bc it suits her fight me

note: proud c2 mona haver right here 🤨‼️ i am. in love with her shes so<3

mona megistus was not expecting to find herself in such situation.

“we definitely should not be here right now,” you say while trying to maintain a serious face, but she sees you’re not actually concerned about what the two of you are doing. you’re giddy as you walk up the stairs and she only winks at you.

mona’s heart is beating fast and her hands feel sweaty against yours and she wonders if you noticed how nervous she is — she doesn’t think you did and she hopes it stays that way. you don’t need to know you make her breath uneven and her cheeks blushed from your mere words.

“we’re almost there,” she whispers, as if telling you a secret.

Keep reading

「𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒」 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐘𝐔

not proofread! | just high school!chifuyu being an cute coward | baji's about to punch some sense into him istg | fluff fluff fluff | casually ignores my almost finished requests

baji scowled at chifuyu as he caught him staring at your figure once again. you were seated in front of the boys, quietly solving a few math exercices due to today, hand running through your hair whenever you started growing even more annoyed with the letters and numbers written all over your notebook.

meanwhile, chifuyu was holding his pen a few millimeters away from his own notebook, cheek resting on his free hand as his eyes couldn't help but stray back to run over your features he knew all too much now, ignoring the way keisuke was glaring at him and kicking his shin and repeatedly asking him to focus, chifuyu - although he hasn't even opened his math book yet.

you looked up at your friends, chuckling slightly as you noticed how they started bickering and chifuyu's mouth closed immediately at the sound, a smile tugging at his lips when he looked back at you only to find you already staring.

"chifuyu," you called out and the boy's heart's pace turned rapid, cheeks turning rosy at the sudden attention, "do you need help with math? i don't really get it either, but i can help a little if you wanna," you said, already gathering your supplies so you could kick baji out of his seat beside chifuyu so you could sit next to him.

"y-yeah, i wouldn't mind some help," the blonde cursed himself for stuttering under his breath and you snorted at that earning a blush from the boy.

baji rolled his eyes, already moving places without you needing to get physical with the issue and he rolled his eyes even more dramatically as he watched you and his best friend lean over the book while you explained to him the different formulas and how to use them - yet with the way chifuyu kept looking back at you, keisuke was convinced the information slipping past your lips wasn't even getting to his brain let alone his ears.

"do you get it now?" you asked, leaning back a little to watch chifuyu solve the problem on his own and baji's frown deepened when he saw that his friend actually managaed to stare at you and understand what you were saying.

keisuke shifted his attention from chifuyu to you and a smirk tugged at his lips when he noticed the soft look in your eyes while your eyes followed chifuyu's pen run over his notebook, easily solving the problem despite a few mistakes here and there.

"you got it better than me, fuyu," you laughed, taking the pen from his grip and chifuyu hated how the ghost of your touch had his insides all fluttering and warm and got butterflies to errupt in his stomach.

you quickly corrected the few little mistakes he made and baji noted the way you were pruposely leaning a little closer than necessary and how your smile seemed softer, gentler whenever it was for chifuyu and how you always payed unwavering attention to whatever he had to say even if you weren't truly interested.

i swear if you don't shoot your shot, keisuke mouthed at his friend when you were still looking down and said-friend only scowled at him, rolling his eyes and shaking his head making keisuke bite the inside of his cheek, wondering if a few punches could make chifuyu man the fuck up a little.

"you actually did a good job," you said, unknowingly interrupting the silent argument they were having and chifuyu's gaze turned fond as he looked back at you. "i have to go ask the teacher a few questions, right now, i'll see you guys later in class then," you continued, entrusting your bag and supplies to the two boys before standing up.

before stepping out of the room, you leaned down towards chifuyu, pressing your lips to his cheek in a tender kiss and baji gasped a little too dramatically while chifuyu blinked up at you in surprise, cheeks turning crimson and heart thumping loudly in his chest and you couldn't help but chuckle at his expression.

"let's go on a date after classes," you told him, waving at him and baji before leaving the class, humming happily and leaving a flustered chifuyu and shocked baji behind you.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

this is so pretty 🥺🥺🥺 my heart is so immensely soft

。EVERYTHING OF OUR FATE IN DUE TIME ...

━━ PAIRING: kaedehara k./reader

━━ GENRE: fluff

━━ SUMMARY: morning routines could lead to exciting discoveries — just as how everything in your life seem to fall at all the right places at all the right times.

━━ CONTAINS: modern!au

━━ VALENTINE'S 2022 EVENT SPECIAL

the first thing he heard when he opened his eyes was your soft, little snores that automatically drew a drowsy smile on his face. you were still wearing his shirt, a faded red one that had his high school's mascot printed in front. the fabric didn't swallow you whole like the shirts in your rom-com movies do but that was fine. his heart held a lot of affection for the sentimental things in his life and he was more than willing to share every single one of the things that made him kaedehara kazuha with the person who stole every bit of his poetry. it didn't take long for him to pull you close, absentmindedly snuggling into the crook of your neck as he relished in the gentle thrumming of his heart. with legs tangled under the quilted blanket you gave him last christmas, kazuha decided that he could afford to stay in bed for five minutes longer if it meant having you for himself for just as long.

the five minutes that passed felt like an eternity that ended too soon— yes, that was the perfect way to describe it. an eternity of finer details spun and observed meticulously by awestruck ruby eyes. kazuha was eloquent but not necessarily verbose. besides, he smiles to himself as he ran a hand through his free-flowing locks. what else was there to say when you were doing all the explanation by just looking wonderfully majestic first thing in the morning? true art, the ones that could only be crafted by the genius of nature itself, have no need for unnecessary adjectives uttered by someone clumsy and blind at the sight of love incarnate.

"you woke up early," he felt you shuffle before slumping over his back, movements exposing your left leg to the cold morning breeze. you honestly didn't care. it wasn't that cold but kazuha wordlessly adjusted the blanket for you anyway, "worrywart."

kazuha shook his head amusedly, "just looking out for you."

you eyed his pleased expression before fiddling with the hair tie on your wrist — his hair tie. a little something that you wouldn't be having on your person if it weren't for this man who enjoyed your touch unabashedly. adjusting your position, you carefully detangled the knots in his hair: a routine you have come to know every time you stayed the night over his place.

"what should we have for breakfast?"

you hummed, "you're cooking?"

"it's valentine's day," kazuha smiles and though you weren't facing him, you knew his silken voice by heart that you could carve the image in your mind with as much ease as you have when you breathe, "a special day for a special someone entails a special treatment, yes?"

"don't try too hard to be perfect. any more and you'll make me order a ring."

"feeling bold, aren't we?"

you only laugh in reply, patting his head twice to tell him that you're done styling his hair. deciding that your mischief will temporarily end there, you don't comment as your keen eyes caught kazuha slightly tilting his head to lean into your touch. a cat. he reminds you too much of a cat who enjoys lounging around in the corners where the sun's glow hits just right.

"the rain has stopped... i guess we're not having breakfast together after all," you said after a few moments worth of silence. the reason for your stay was the torrential downpour that happened late last night. as brave as you are to attempt to fluster your composed lover, you weren't quite brave enough to walk home in poor visibility. too busy recounting what has transpired, you missed the frown that uncharacteristically painted kazuha's face darker.

"...so it seems."

you blink, turning your gaze to kazuha to ask him a silent question but he only kissed the inside of your wrist with a coy smile.

indifference has never been your forte and it didn't help that kaedehara kazuha, as a result of the countless hours he has devoted in honor of preserving your image in his memory, knew every single one of your quirks. as you cleared your throat, kazuha could only smile in content as you didn't attempt to pull your hand away from his hold. a cat. sometimes, you reminded kazuha of a cat who jumps away from the slightest show of affection. other times, however, you stuck close like you had all the intention of becoming his second skin. you'd deny this if he told you but he knew better. his mother had once tucked a stray strand of his hair while softly saying that nature favored him for his free soul and it appears that this time, he owes them another prayer of gratitude. the rain has once again proven that it was his friend — a friend that had kindly bought him more time with a small bonus of having you crave the warmth that emanated from his palms.

"shall we go out of bed?"

you groan but made no further move to protest. it wasn't as if you had any intention of running away from your responsibilities. while it was valentine's day, it was also a monday, the most dreadful of all workdays, and you had no intention of losing your good mood to the morning traffic.

"i'll at least help you with breakfast—" kazuha shakes his head before guiding you to the bathroom, spare towel and clothes in hand. you didn't even notice that he had everything ready until he was telling you that he had everything covered, "you sure?"

"you'll be late."

"meanie."

kazuha made no move as he watched you pad to the bathroom. he ought to tell you off for walking barefoot when the mahogany flooring was cold but there was something strange in his lungs. it squeezed — lightly, not enough to be painful but enough to be felt — and oddly, it was a feeling he could easily mark as delightful. it was befuddling to face an emotion he has yet to recognize but it was fine. if it was a feeling he gained from being around you, he's bound to put a name to it eventually. after all, he was planning to stick by your side for a long, long time.

content with his realization, kazuha tugged at his sweater's sleeves. he could hear the sound of the shower being turned on, followed by the rhythmic pattering of water to the tiled floor. once, he had no use for a heater, having an inexplicable tolerance for the freezing water in his apartment but then you came along and he found himself scurrying to accommodate you. the shrill scream you let out as you showered for the first time in his place was quite unforgettable and even more so was your blatant avoidance of his gaze. embarrassment on you was a hue that he found endearing but he'd never place his satisfaction over your comfort. lying wasn't his forte, preferring very technical wording instead but somehow, it was easy to smile apologetically and tell you that he was having trouble with his morning showers as well.

not soon after, you gifted him one of the many piles of blankets he had stored in the spare room. "stay warm. i'm not very good at looking after sick people," you said and he wondered how he could be stuck freezing in the cold when your eyes were the warmest of all. sincere and caring. you didn't tell him that you won't look after him when he's all gross and vulnerable — just that you weren't the best at it. kazuha had shuddered then, finding the intensity of your gaze to be the right amount of heat that he was craving for all this time.

it was no wonder that kazuha has earned a lot of mocking contempt from his friends for always thinking and speaking of you fondly but how could he ever stop when you're effortlessly adorable as you wore his go-to scarf with a frustrated pout. you didn't even have to do anything. all you had to do was stand still and breathe and he would be all over your feet, singing you praises and thanking you repeatedly for sharing your tender heart with him.

the bedroom door suddenly opened and he realized that he was too burrowed in his thoughts to realize that you have long left the shower. you were fiddling with his scarf. a pleased smirk came to his face as he realized that a part of him was going to be with you all day long and that it should be enough to silently cue your coworkers to stay on their lanes. how strange... it was unlike him to be so territorial. perhaps the valentine mood wasn't all lie after all. shaking such nasty thoughts, he met you in the middle, gingerly unraveling the scarf to rewrap it around you but without the unsightly creases your earlier rush caused.

"you don't need to leave so soon," he smiles tenderly as he gently tugs at your arm to pull you back to his warmth, "my place is yours, after all."

you knew what he was referencing. fragments of you could be found everywhere you look in his cozy apartment and it was as if cupid shot yet another barrage of arrows to your heart as you fall crazy in love all over again. you like this. you truly, with all of that word's sincerity, like this. you like how you seamlessly mesh into his life— how natural your toothbrush sits next to his fancy bamboo one. you love how his body was always the right degree of warm during rainy days. you love him. you love him so much that it's a wonder that this world could contain it.

"very sneaky," you drawl, making no effort to hide your entertainment, "i never thought you'd be the one to influence me to lag behind."

"there is no need to make me out to be a villain, dove. i am always by your side, wishing for you to receive only the best."

you pause before nodding, burrowing your face into the scarf in the process. it smelled like him — like his apartment; like home and you wonder just when you began recognizing this small but cozy place to be the one place you'll come back to after a day's worth of work. you don't question the why because you knew the first time you set your foot inside this place — even when back then the wallpapers were old and dirty and he refused to pay for 'unnecessary' appliances — that it was only a matter of time before you were dancing in the kitchen as you cooked dinner with a skilled artist as your sous chef. it was never a how or why, only a when and even that didn't matter all too much because it would come to be eventually.

domesticity. the mere sound of the word had your blood rushing in excitement for what was in store for the future and without a doubt, you knew that you and kazuha had both silently agreed that you liked how that word sounded with the affectionate articulation of the other.

"i have to go now. you've held me back long enough, mister."

kazuha easily dodged the soft flick you were supposed to give him. realizing that you weren't going to call in sick after all, he sighed before handing you a carefully crafted bento. noticing your confused stare, he shrugged nonchalantly, "it's unhealthy to skip breakfast and someone has to make sure that you're not doing so just because you are running late."

"holy crap," you gape at him, heart going mad crazy underneath all your layers, "marry me. like right now."

kazuha rose a brow before laughing, placing one final kiss on your cheek before shooing you off gently. your words had affected him a little too well and the lung-squeezing feeling from before returned ten-fold. whatever it was, it was for sure your doing and he had not the heart to complain. similarly, he has yet to find the heart to speak of the box hidden under his sock drawer ever since a year ago. no matter... it will come to be eventually — naturally and all in the due course of time that looked upon you fondly.

© 2021 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐗𝐗. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms but reblogs are appreciated.

How about shutting kazuha up with a kiss (consetual ofc)

I love his flowery words but sometimes he talks a bit much

-☆

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ♥︎

I’ll be honest I didn’t expect to end up writing somethign this long, but here we are now akjsdnsa The way this has been sitting in my drafts for days bc I couldn’t come up w/ a romantic haiku for the life of me–– also i switched up the promt a teeny tiny bit hope you don’t mind!!

!! Feat: Kissing? It's mainly just fluff lmao, read with caution bc they make out ig?? Its not super hot and heavy tho lmao, Ig my absolute shit poetry skills are a warning tho (On a real note im so sorry if the haiku is bad I am not gifted when it comes to poetry akjsnas)

Navigation

⠀It's been going on for about two hours now.

⠀Kazuha has been mumbling to himself, his brow furrowed in what you guess was frustration while he leans over the balustrade. Pale sheets of paper lay discarded on the glossy wood beside him, blank and unused. The young ronin has one hand grasping a sheet, while the other is busy twirling a brush-tipped pen.

⠀He's been staring hard at the paper, worrying his lip and huffing, as if he expects the haiku to jump from his mind onto it without much preamble.

⠀"Do you not feel tired?" You ask, reclining against the wall. You cock your head, a small smile on your face. "If you stare any harder at the paper, it might just catch fire, love."

⠀Kazuha chuckles, still staring at his paper like a petulant kitten. "Perhaps," is all he replies before his lips are once more occupied mumbling disjointed lines of a poem that he just couldn't get right.

⠀With a sigh, you push off from your relaxed position, taking a hold of his upper arm and gently tugging him back into the shade and out of the sun. "You might burn," you chastise him. "Perhaps you've been in the heat so long your brain melted–– what are you doing?"

⠀Kazuha sighs, setting his writing materials on a nearby table. The moment his hands are empty, you take them into yours, squeezing them reassuringly. The wrappings on his right hand have loosened a bit, you notice. You'll have to re-do them for him later.

⠀"I'm having some trouble composing a haiku," he says, his smile soft and a bit tentative.

⠀"It wouldn't be the first time," you joke in return, causing him to address you with a dry stare and a cocked brow. You chuckle at him.

⠀"I'm having some trouble," he reiterates, "because whenever I attempt to put my thoughts to paper... it never seems to fit. Every attempt I make to write down my words, it appears as if an error stares me in the face, and I just have to rectify it. I’m never satisfied by my results. "

⠀“What makes this one so special?” You ask, squeezing his hands. “You’re not usually so critical of your haikus.”

⠀Kazuha chuckles, a small grin on his face. You begin to swing your connected hands, something that softens his eyes with fondness.

⠀“I wished for it to be a gift. For you.” He doesn’t look you in the eye when he says this, instead looking off to the side as a flush begins to creep up his neck. Nevertheless, he still talks despite his apparent embarrassment, and you can’t help but want to coo. He’s adorable.

⠀“I hoped that you would take it as a gesture of my love and affection,” Kazuha says softly, taking one hand from your grasp and using it to stroke your cheek and cup your face, holding it as if it were the most fragile of glass. “The haiku I were to compose would have been to let you know how often I think of you. How often I wish to kiss you and hold you close.”

⠀The redness had spread, painting his face in a pretty blush, but he does not shy away from your gaze now. His smile is soft, holding all his affections in such a simple thing. With the light behind him and the glow of the sea reflected in his eyes, you can’t help but admire the beauty that is Kaedahara Kazuha. His touch on you never roughens or jolts, no, he continues to hold you like you are that which is most precious to him. Maybe you are.

⠀“Recite it for me anyway?” You ask him, voice shy. “I don’t mind if it’s unfinished. I just... if it’s important to you, I’d love to hear it.”

⠀He chuckles, then nods in acquiesce. How could he resist when you make his heart beat so fast?

⠀“Lips of clouds and dreams / Yearning for another touch / Weak to love’s caress.”

⠀Kazuha waits in silence, feeling your cheeks grow hot in his palm. a smile grows on his face when your eyes avert from his, though there’s no mistaking the pleased warmth of your skin.

⠀You clear your throat and he listens intently. “Say it again?” You request.

⠀He does as you command, the words coming easier around this time. He recites haiku reverently, as if it were a gift he was leaving at your altar. Kazuha’s words are low and hushed, comparable to a purr, but not at all lacking for the impact they have on you.

⠀“Again,” you tell him, leaning further into his palm.

⠀He say it again, a grin beginning to form on his lips.

⠀“Again.”

⠀He says it again.

⠀“Again.”

⠀As many times as you ask, he will always comply. 

⠀It surprises him the slightest bit, though, when you inch closer to him, close enough that you’re chest-to-chest and your unique smell ––like home, like an adventure–– is so strong that he feels like he’d happily suffocate on it. His hands come to warp around you, and your drape over his shoulders and encircle his neck. It feels so right to be entangled together, to have your bodies pressed so close not even the thinnest of papers could slip through. He relishes in the proximity, in the sparks that erupt in his chest at your touch.

⠀Your breath is warm against his sensitive skin, and your lips are so close that they could touch. A minute shiver races up his back when you speak, drawing his half-lidded gaze to your mouth. 

⠀“Say it again, Kazuha?”

⠀“Lips of clouds and dreams.” The purr travels from his chest into yours, and his arms tighten around you. “Yearning for another touch.”

⠀“Weak to love’s––” But before he can finish, your lips are sealed on his, cutting off his words and pulling a low, happy moan from him instead. Your kiss is insistent, lips moving against his and stealing his breath with every flick of your tongue. The arms around his neck tighten, pulling him closer to you (or, perhaps, pressing yourself closer to him) and deepening the kiss. 

⠀He tastes sweet, you can’t help but notice. Like the dango he had once made for you, a specialty of his hometown. You sigh into him, and he eagerly swallows it. His skin is flushing under your touch, and your own body was beginning to warm the longer he held you in his embrace.

⠀But good things can only last so long–– you both break apart when your breathing turns shallow. You don’t go very far, though, nor do you disconnect fully from each other. His breath is still warm and heavy on your kiss-swollen lips, and there’s a cute flush on Kazuha’s face. 

⠀You lips curve into a smile, giddy and dopey from his touch, and he easily mirrors your expression. 

⠀“Hi,” you say quietly, happily, leaning a bit to press your foreheads together.

⠀“Hello,” he responds in the same tone of voice. There’s a glint of emotion in his eyes that makes your heart full, that makes the blood in your veins warm under his gaze. “I trust you enjoyed my gift?”

⠀You laugh, brushing your lips together again. Instead of answering, you slot your lips together once more, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the feeling. 

⠀Kazuha enthusiastically kisses back, heart thrumming in his chest–– for he is, after all, weak to your love’s embrace.

⠀

a touch of lips 

Genre: spicy fluff (lots of kissing, touching, teasing, slight biting mention (kaeya, scara), slight possessive theme (scara), etc) - love drunk reader

Character x GN reader | Anthology

Includes: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Itto

request: you know that scenario you did of Thoma and love drunk reader, could you do a series of love drunk reader

Keep reading

Angst-to-fluff Inumaki x reader and Itadori x reader headcanons (separately) for when their s/o takes a hit for them during a mission and winds up unconscious for a few days as a result of the injury? Thank you so much!

WHEN THEIR S/O TAKES THE HIT FOR THEM

note. i hope u enjoy anon !! i had fun writing this <3

feat.  itadori, inumaki x gn!reader

warnings. angst (to fluff!), mentions of blood and death, a lil gory? 

☆ MASTERLIST

☆ — ITADORI

he’s constantly taking hits for you. whether it be a life-threatening swipe of a cursed spirit’s claws or a bonk on the head from fushiguro, itadori will take the fall. you hate it. you know he’s doing it out of the pure, all-consuming love he holds for you - but what about your love?

every time you see yuuji rush out to save you, you’re too slow to stop his inhumanely fast instincts, you are, however, fast enough to stop the cursed spirit currently lunging at him. he’s too distracted to notice - eyes only on you and anything that is actively targeting you to look out for himself. a flash of an image of a wounded yuuji is conjured up by your imagination, and you can feel the way your heart twists painfully - the feeling of dread makes you physically sick to your stomach.

it’s far too late to even consider how much of a bad idea this is before you’re leaping into action, the disgusting crunch of your bones and squelching sound of your blood is truthfully, a friendly reminder. a reminder that this isn’t yuuji. it’s the last coherent thought you have before the adrenaline can no longer stop the immense pain as you collapse to the sound of yuuji’s cries.

anyone other than shoko is absolutely forbidden to touch you. yuuji treats you like fine china, terrified that even a touch will break you. the immense guilt that settles in his gut for the few days you’re unconscious is a pain that only reminds him of his grandfather’s passing. shoko tells him you’re going to wake up soon, that you’ll be fine when you do but oh god what if you don’t? the thought of you closing your eyes and drifting away like his grandfather is far too much for him to bear.

and now, contrasting that with the joy he feels as you awake makes him seem like a different person. yuuji oh so desperately wants to be angry at you, he wants to scold you for being so reckless but how could he? you look far too ethereal even with your chapped lips and messy hair, and were your eyes always that pretty colour?

yuuji will hold you close. maybe soon enough he’ll scold you, but for now, yuuji needs to feel you in his arms. he presses a kiss to your forehead, that sensitive spot on your neck, and the tips of your fingers, etching the images of your reactions and the feeling of your skin into his mind.

☆ — INUMAKI

inumaki is unbelievably kind. throwing himself into danger for the sake of his friends and those he loves is nothing to him. it's like picking between tuna mayo onigiri for lunch and- well, anything else. and when it comes to you? his heart is in your palm. 

toge will act like the cuts on his torso and the broken bones in his body are nothing for the sake of protecting you, so that any guilt he knows you'll have can disappear - but it never does. how could it? seeing him broken and bruised just for you isn't exactly as sweet as it sounds. for once, all you want is to for toge to be selfish. but it never comes.

even as you two stand, bloody and bruised against a curse much too strong for either of you to handle, inumaki doesn't shake. he acts like your shield, continuing to spit out words filled with fury directly at the spirit - uncaring of the blood that pours out of his mouth like a waterfall. you cry and beg him to stop, but he only turns to smile at you with gentle eyes - telling you, "it's okay." 

it's not. not at all. not when the cursed spirit is jumping forward and getting ready to claw at toge - not when he's too distracted with you to notice. his eyes widen when you burst forward, tumbling towards him in desperation. he feels the blinding pain shoot up his back as he hits a concrete pillar - one you'd pushed him into. 

inumaki opens his eyes, heart stopping at the sight of your body. his eyes dart furiously to the blood that seeps from your head, and then to the mangled mess of limb that is your right leg, an inexplicable feeling of loss makes him tremble - but as he hears the cursed spirit laugh at its seeming victory, he refuses to back down, especially now. 

toge can't stop the blood that builds inside his throat and spills out of his mouth, not that he really cares much about it as he watches shoko use her reversed cursed technique on your leg, relief flooding over him as you're healed. there's not much she can do for your other injuries other than bandage them up, but if the scars ever bother you then know inumaki will be there to kiss your insecurities away. 

he prepares for when you'll finally wake by buying all of your favourite snacks, that plush you really wanted, and turning his room into the ultimate comfort cave. toge has utter faith you'll wake up, he really does - but he can't help but sob when you finally do, an overpowering pressure lifting from his shoulders. make sure to not leave his side for a few days (years) afterward, alright?

© SINUMAKI 2022 — do not repost, plagiarise or translate my writing. i will beat the shit out of u.

serenity

> character(s) - kazuha

> summary - moments spent during lunchtime, on the rooftop (high school au)

> word count - 1449

🍁

You creak open the door to the rooftop, spying kazuha lying down in a patch of sunlight.

The sun is shining. It's warmer than usual, considering it's nearly the end of winter, which is probably why he’s up here basking in the sun. The trees are bare in the courtyard and there are spots of ice still dotted around the grounds, but the atmosphere still seems mellow, soft in a way that takes away from the biting air.

You pad closer, setting down your bag next to his. You take your lunch out of the bag and sit down carefully on his right. He’s closing his eyes, you note, and he looks like he’s sleeping. You let out a small fond huff at the way his hair covers his eyes, and brush some out of his face.

You move to unpack your lunch, tearing your eyes away from his relaxed frame.

Suddenly, you hear a rustle of clothes behind you, then a sultry whisper right against your ear, and you yelp, whipping around.

Kazuha’s sitting up when you give him a scowl, and he laughs quietly at your glare. “I wasn’t sleeping, you know.”

The sun above him makes him glow, makes him look ethereal. You pause before you can retort, caught in the way his ruffled hair frames his face and the way his eyes sparkle, but whether they glint with mirth or the sunlight, you don’t know.

He taps ur cheek lightly, snapping you out of your trance. “gonna eat lunch?”

You blink and look down at ur lunchbox, unconsciously touching the place where he touched your cheek. “Yep.”

Kazuha grabs his lunch from where it’s sitting next to him, brushing dust off his hair with his hand.

“Isn’t the floor dirty?” you snort, reaching out to help brush a stray pine off of his sweater.

He gives you a pointed look, picking away the last of the pine needles stuck to his hair. “You ask this every time we come up here, yet you still sit on the floor.”

“Shut up. I’m just questioning why you never sit on a perfectly good chair.”

He taps the floor in brief contemplation. “...The floor’s warm, and it smells like the sun,” he says, after a pause.

You give him an amused look. “If you say so.” You open your lunchbox, setting the lid to the side.

He huffs, opening his lunchbox too. You glance at each other, and you give him a small grin.

You take some of the salmon and rice from his lunchbox, and he wordlessly takes half of your eggrolls.

“just eggrolls?”

“I’ll never get sick of them,” he declares solemnly, biting into a piece.

You eat together in comfortable silence, occasionally taking bits and pieces of each others’ lunch with a grin. The birds sing out, crescendoing and receding along an unspoken tune. The melody seems to hint at the start of spring, and you bask in the cool wind of anticipation as you eat.

You finish the last bit of your dried seaweed. You put your chopsticks down, setting your lunchbox down with a satisfied exhale.

You look to kazuha sitting on your left, who’s still chewing contemplatively on the last bits of fish and rice left in his lunchbox. He’s staring out into the distance, and he looks almost perfectly peaceful in that moment, like nothing could bother him. You muse that maybe, just maybe, you get lost in his gentle features a bit too easily.

The faint wind rustles his hair, and almost like he sensed your curious stare, he turns to gaze at you, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Kazuha asks. He tilts his head, a mischievous look crossing his face. “It wasn’t about be me, now, was it, songbird?”

You scoff playfully. “How pretentious of you.”

But, of course, you were thinking about him. Everything about him had you captivated—from the way he smiled softly at you with flecks of gold in his eyes to the way he patted your head placatingly after he teased you relentlessly.

Kazuha studies you, and you study him back. He gives you a curious stare, the question still hidden in his eyes- what are you thinking about?

You know exactly what you were thinking about.

You were terrified of him finding out. Finding out how much you admired him, how much you thought about him, how much butterflies erupted from every touch from his gentle hands.

How much you loved spending time with him, even when it was quiet wordless moments shared on the evening playground, and even when it was playful yet thoughtful conversations spent while walking home together after school.

You were terrified that he would find out just how much you adored him.

You break away from his eyes first, shaking your head with a subdued smile. “Nothing. just... a lot on my mind.”

Kazuha reaches out a hand, brushing away a hair from your face. You startle, looking back up at him, face flushed from the almost tender brush of his fingers against your temple. He doesn't look away.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. If you open your mouth, you feel like it will betray you—dump your feelings all over the floor, exposed for everyone to see.

The air is almost still. There are sounds of wind flowing through the bare trees, but time seems to stop around you.

This time, it’s kazuha who looks away first, breaks the silence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relieved yet... disappointed. He turns around, wrapping up his lunch and grabbing his bag.

When you hear sounds of rummaging, you realize that he’s searching for something. After a moment, he lets out a satisfied hum and turns to face you again, a thermos in his hands.

“I have tea.” he twists open the bottle, setting the cap upside-down on the floor. “Do you want some?”

“I can’t believe Kaedehara Kazuha is secretly a grandpa.” You poke fun at him, grinning. “Tea?”

He nudges you. “If you keep doing that, I won’t give you any.”

“Kidding, kidding!” you laugh, nudging him back. “I want some too.”

He hides a smile, leaning towards you as he pours tea into the cap. He hands you the steaming cup. “here.”

You nod your thanks, and take a sip after blowing to cool the steam. The tea is warm, not as hot as you thought— just the perfect temperature. There’s the right amount of tang, and a hint of maple aftertaste, and you sigh contentedly as the warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice.”

Kazuha takes a sip from the thermos, glancing at you. “I made it the way you like it, I think.”

“Yeah?” You tilt back, trying to hide the growing smile on your face. “Yeah, you did.”

With the way you’re leaning back, you can see the back of his head. When he turns to face you, you tilt your head in an unspoken acknowledgement.

"Hey, can I say something?" He suddenly pushes his face in front of yours, and you startle at the proximity, falling onto your back. You hit the back of your head on the hard concrete floor, and you wince.

His head is still in front of yours, and he stares down at you with an amused smirk. “Hurt?”

“Mmhmm...” you groan, covering your face with your hand. He's so close...

“At least you didn’t spill your tea,” he teases.

You groan again, moving your arm to cover your eyes.

You hear the rustling of clothes, and you can feel him come closer. Heat radiates from him, and the warmth of his body pressed against your side leaves you breathless. You don’t dare move your body, afraid it might somehow scare him off.

His hand touches your wrist, so softly that it almost feels like a whisper. You feel a light press of something on your forehead, and you muffle a gasp. Your heart is pounding, and you’re afraid kazuha might hear, with the way red is rushing into your face.

He draws back silently, moving your wrist down so it doesn’t cover your face anymore. You can see his lips quirking up at the way your face is fully flushed. “You okay, songbird?”

You hum your assent, and he chuckles.

He places a cool hand on your cheek, a pleasing contrast with the way your face is heated up. “My songbird,” he whispers almost reverently. “So pretty.”

You lean into his touch. "So that's what you wanted to say to me?"

"Shut up."

And he kisses you, again.

> notes - i am so down bad for kazuha

[ 1:55 am ] ; albedo.

"just one more," your plea was masked by a laugh that drifted gently through the room, the smile that albedo wore on his lips further encouraging your request.

"it's the last one."

albedo's voice was pushed by the whisper of a new passion for him, its timbre being nervous and rather shy as he recalled that peaceful night between you.

"it's the last one," you confirmed albedo's statement with anxiety painting the sparkle in your eyes, your smile now so wide and sincere it was impossible for albedo to regret his choice.

as such, albedo got closer to you.

between the silence of the night and the serenity of your room, albedo brought his face close to yours, allowing your warmth to paint light rosy tones on his cheeks; between the calm of the street and the tranquility of your house, albedo's heart beat fiercely in his chest, threatening to scream all the love he felt for you if albedo lingered any longer; and, between the outside and the inside, your passion blossomed again, sown by the lips of albedo on your forehead, watered by the gentleness of his hand on your face, cared by the simplicity of your complicity.

"it was the last one," when albedo removed his lips from your forehead, the rivers of euphoria and security that coursed through you had calmed down, forcing you to sigh those words unconsciously, without even realizing that albedo was still holding your face with his hand.

"the last one before the end, perhaps."

albedo spoke low and shy, his face rosy with the heat of emotion, his smile small and almost invisible.

"the last one before the end, looks good to me."

you laughed low again, closing your eyes and allowing a new portion of your face to be kissed by your loved one, feeling his warmth being transmitted by you with kindness in that simple act of his.

"and we never know when the end comes, do we?"

now you looked at albedo in disbelief at his words, his smile gently expanding as his thumb circled your cheek.

and, submitting to the intense love that burned his chest, albedo kissed your face again, creating invisible trails through your skin, pictures of promises to be secretly delighted in your face. they were small kisses he gave you, all light and almost invisible, but you could feel, all over your body and all over your soul, that every kiss of his, every promise of albedo, would never be forgotten in the story of your love, not when he kissed you so tenderly.

MANJIRO SANO | LOVE IS ‘KIND’.

your link-a: manjiro sano (x reader)

cw etc: nsfw, minors dni. fingering but… he’s mentally ill and in love(?!) i’m so in love w mikey i be writing shit like stanzas man, pretty short

all about: mikey navigates what love is, and what you are.

Manjiro has heard that love is kind. It’s strong, and warm, and whole, and all his life he’s been sure love is the thing that would make him complete. So, he loved. He’d had a lot to spend, a lot to give, a lot to take, and he did. Mikey thinks, after a lot of careful calculation, that love makes everything worse. Or maybe it just makes him worse— maybe it’s this broken part of him that can’t stomach the way that love engulfs him whole and swallows him into nothingness.

Love is overwhelming, too. It takes over him and it always has. Manjiro never likes to lose, and with that he finds himself sickly whenever someone inches themselves near something he has. He’s possessive, overbearing and ill and he never knows how to fix it when it drips from his skin like sweat.

Love is too much and it topples out of him as your hands grip onto his shirt the way they are now. Love is horrible and it infects him through the timid saliva that you pass from your mouth to his. His chest tightens frantically under the steady of his skin, muscle and heart and all beating against his ribs that are covered in your name; his eyes shut and he sees you and it holds more clarity than anything his normal vision could, he finds you melted in the cracks in his skin, and Manjiro wonders if he hates love.

You’re needy and it’s taunting; he wonders, when you whimper around his tongue, if you’re making fun of him. Manjiro has always loved hard— harder than he ever figured out how to let on and harder than he knows how to feel at all, and even though he can never turn off the hope for a consistent reciprocal, he’s realistic.

“Wanted you for so long,” but his mind blurs whenever you speak, and he’s setting himself up for something rotten. “everything about you, Mikey.” and his realism shatters and, even if it’s momentary, it’s irreparable.

He feels sick. His hands are tingling, they’re asleep under your calming gaze, and they burn under the heat in your touch, and he lets them reach for your shirt, your skin, your being. Mikey is good at telling himself he’s done with love, but every time an inkling of it drops on his skin and it ferments until his body is painted with the idea that it wouldn’t be like last time and the need for whoever finds themselves in front of him.

Under everything, he’s a scared little boy. And he’s sure it’s so transparent, he’s sure he’s so obvious, but when he finds out it’s not it irritates him further. He feels abandoned, some how, when people don’t see what he’s not showing them. Yet, as your breath shakes when his fingers dip along the skin of your hips, he’s petrified you’ve seen through it— through him.

And now Mikey thinks he might need you. Maybe he does— maybe it’s more than he’s ever needed anyone— or maybe the feeling will fizzle the second he gets scared and he’ll realize it was nothing more than a weird week, or maybe it’s both. He shuts it out, though, as you mutter the words he’s thinking under him, and he doesn’t even know when he got over you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll need you, but he listens to your synonymous request quietly, breath lifting his body higher than it should go as the pad of his thumb ventures against the slick of your cunt.

“‘Jiro, fuck,” the nickname falls from you like prayer, like you were meant to say it, like it’s the only word you’ve ever known, and he forces himself to take in the situation. Mikey lives a lot of his life hazy, especially the good parts, so he makes sure he takes this all in. He memorizes the squelch you make against him and how your oiled lips part because of him.

Manjiro has always hated his hands. He knows he shouldn’t show sympathy to something that’s caused so much distress, but he second guesses his dismay for them at the way your pussy flutters around his fingers, clamping down on his knuckles without any hesitation. Maybe, in some way, his skin isn’t broken and ruined and the bringer of bad because you like it. He could like them, too, he thinks, when you sob while they disappear into you over and over and over.

Manjiro doesn’t like love, and he doesn’t love it either.

“Oh my god, Mikey.” But he loves how you say his name right now— bubbles of white decorating his skin, proof that you like him in some way, that he’s good some how coating him. His repugnance for this feeling grows and shrinks simultaneously as you lose yourself on him and he loses himself with you.

His guard feels too low— there’s a repetitive tap in the back of his mind urging him he could do more against this, and he almost gives into it. He almost pulls away, he tempts the idea of leaving himself untouched and you incomplete, and he thinks he could ignore the ache in his cock and his sternum until he’s alone. It seems like a good plan, a smarter idea for the both of you, a safer decision for the worn mesh of himself, a genuine consideration for the delicacy of your care.

He can’t bring himself to it, though, and he’s sure somehow you’re keeping him there. It’s easier to say you’re making him stay locked in your body, connected with you.

Manjiro doesn’t think love is kind. He thinks it’s vicious, and loud, and he thinks it hurts.

“‘M gonna cum!” He thinks it’s cruel, and overbearing, and obsessive.

“Shit, Manjiro! I love you.” And he doesn’t think he’ll ever really be able to stop chasing it.

hi!! I really like your works and i enjoy it so much esp you portray diluc’s character so well, May i request frustrated kisses with diluc? I was thinking of a scenario where diluc is holding back his feelings for reader (bc of his darknight duties) and reader cant take it anymore and decides to show how much shes willing to risk it all for diluc?? if you’re still busy with work you dont have to do this! Hope you are well :’)

hi love!💕 thank you so much, it makes me so happy to know you're enjoying my writing, especially for diluc <3 i loved this idea, thank you for submitting it! i hope you're doing well too 🥰🥰💖💖

frustrated kisses with diluc | 2.1k+ words

the cooling night of mondstadt does little to calm your racing heart and the butterflies in your stomach. nothing within these walls could ever calm you down when you find yourself walking side by side with diluc as he escorts you home after a night at the tavern.

you think you’d be used to it by now; used to how both your cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink when you step too close and your arms brush against each other or the way your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when he smiles and chuckles at a story you’ve told him or even when he lectures you to be more careful on your commissions and is unable to hide the worry in his tone as well as he’d hoped. but even after all this time, you aren’t used to it and you aren’t sure you ever would be.

“you should get inside,” diluc says not a moment after arriving at the front door of your apartment. “it’s unsafe this time of night.”

“right,” you agree, your gaze casting down as your hand comes up to your face to push the hair out of your face. “thank you again for walking me home tonight.. and well most nights.” a small smile falls on your lips at the thought of how often you get to share these moments with diluc, a privilege no one else in all of teyvat gets to receive.

you regret moving the only thing that could hide your blushing cheeks when your eyes return to his handsome features and you see ruby orbs looking softly but intently at your lips and you can’t help when your eyes drop to his in return. what would they feel like when he finally kissed you instead of holding you at arms length? you’re sure they’re more intoxicating than the grapes he turns into the finest wine. were you going to find out tonight just how sweet they actually were?

he turns his entire face away from yours, his gloves hand coming up to hide more of his face than his plentiful hair already does when he sees you’ve caught on to what he’s been longing to touch for so long. he clears his throat before looking back at you, pink still lightly dusting his face. “please, think nothing of it. if it’s within my power i’ll ensure you get home safely,” he finds himself saying this a lot, especially with how often he does escort you home and you thank him as sweetly as you do. they’re words you’ve heard before and will never tire of hearing. “ah well - g-goodnight y/n.”

you say your own goodnight before he leaves much too quickly for your liking, before either of you can get the courage to get closer to the other and you’re stuck standing inside the doorway to your apartment, your heart fluttering and your mind racing. dilucs half hearted rejections were nothing new and you don’t let it bother you, your patience for him was unyielding. like the blooming of the spring's first flower or the butterflies that find their way into the grapevines of the dawn winery, in order to let wonderful things blosum and show you their true beauty, you must give them time. but like some flowers need a little extra time, a little more sunshine before they fully flourish.

you’ve thought about it for a while now, how much longer it would take diluc to stop pushing aside his feelings. you weren’t even sure at first if that’s what he was doing or if he simply wasn’t interested but as time went on and you two drew closer to each other it became obvious that he cared for you in a special way and that he was also pushing you away because of it. as he started to let you in, little by little, you began to understand why he did but as time continued and you stayed by his side you saw him soften, saw how his walls began to break down around you and you wonder now if the little bit of the wall that remained was up to you to move so you could finally make it to him.

worry of overstepping almost stops you in your tracks when you drop your bag inside your apartment and shut the door loudly you as you chase after him but your heart screams so much louder and all you want is to see him, tell him that you care for him so much it almost hurts and that when he’s ready, you are too. he couldn’t have gotten too far, it hasn’t even been 10 minutes since he left you at your door and disappeared into the night.

if it weren’t for his bright hair you may have missed him standing in an alleyway not far from your place. stopping in your tracks and turning on your heels you hurry towards him, calling his name just as he lunges forwards towards an enemy you hadn’t noticed before. you hadn’t even seen the claymore in his hand until now.

as the abyss mage disappears after being defeated, diluc quickly turns towards you, his eyes burning with a quiet fire that you’ve only seen a few times before.

“what are you doing out here?!” the words come out harsher than he intended and it almost has you faltering. he notices the hurt in your eyes and his tone immediately lowers as he comes closer to you. “i escorted you home so you would be safe for the rest of the night.”

“what are you doing?” you stand still in front of him, shocked and trying to process the sight before you. you’ve heard rumors about the hero keeping mond safe under the darkness of the night but you hadn’t imagined till now that they were true. as you come down from your shocked state, it all begins to make sense. of course the dark knight hero would be the ever protective diluc, his love for mondstadt and it’s people simply didn’t go away when he left the knights. it only makes you fall for him more. you meet his burning gaze and can’t stop the words before they leave your lips, “is this why you have been pushing me away?

“it’s for your own good,” he states and crosses his arms. “now,” he’s trying to make a point, what you just saw is not up for discussion at the moment, not until you're safely inside. “let's get you back home, shall we?”

“for my own good?” you sound upset and you absolutely are. it makes his heart ache. you weren’t supposed to find out this way, aren’t supposed to be out in the night where it’s dangerous.. where you could get hurt. he’s been trying so hard to keep you from getting hurt, even if it meant pushing away how badly he wanted you no matter how much he found himself drawn to you. under the cover over the moon he hopes you can’t see the way his whole face turns as red as the hair utop his head when you step closer to him and reach for his hand. the feeling of your gentle touch relaxes and yet worries him. “diluc what’s for my own good is up for me to decide.”

he sighs, his hand squeezing yours when his eyes meet yours. he’s not sure if it’s meant to comfort you or him or if his touch is only going to make things worse. “as i’ve said, if it is within my power to protect you i would. it’s not safe so i’ll escort you back home.”

but you don’t budge and neither does he.

“what about you?” you can feel the heat coming from him, it soothes the unease that was bubbling in your stomach that you may have ruined all the trust you’ve built with him till now, gives you the little push you need to finish what you came out here for in the first place because you never wanted to forget this warmth. “are you going to get home safe?”

“you don’t need to concern yourself with that,” his gaze is serious, almost too intense for comfort but you still don’t pull away and he doesn’t push you away. “it is up to me to deal with the darkness.. to keep it far away from you.”

for the first time since you’ve touched his hand, he pulls away and with it goes his gaze. the place where your hand lay on his fingers and palm tingle and he misses your gentle touch immediately but he had to move away. he worries your touch will cause him to waiver even more than it already has, cause him to push aside the worry in his chest that the darkness he brings with him will consume you, all so he can bathe in your light, breath you in and feel the softness of your touch against his rough, scarred skin. it simply wasn’t worth it. he can’t- he won’t let the darkness touch you and he’s convinced himself the only way of doing that is by not letting himself get close, keeping you at arms distance while under the night he protects you so the darkness can’t even cast a shadow on your beautiful face. “let’s go,” he repeats.

you take a step closer, so close your chests are almost touching and you don’t miss how his eyes look straight towards your lips before his gentle, yet sturdy grip wraps around your arms, keeping you only inches away from his own lips.

“y/n.. don’t..”

“why?”

“you know why..”

“i heard what you said but your actions betray your words diluc..”

“they don’t.” trust him, betraying his words would mean he would have kissed you long ago and even now when he’s finding it nearly impossible to pull away from you. he knows he has to but archons he doesn’t want to.

“darkness is everywhere but it doesn’t scare me because where there is darkness there is light and you watching over me.. if it’s for you, only you, i’m willing to risk it.”

“you may be,” the words come out in almost a whisper, “but i am not. i won't let you risk your safety and you shouldn’t be so willing to either. it isn’t worth it-”

“not worth it?” you’re finding it harder to hide the frustration in your tone and the tears pricking at your eyes. didn’t he see how much you cared for him and that even if you weren’t together you’d care enough to continue to be by his side? didn’t he know that he didn’t have to face the darkness alone? tears fall without your permission but you don’t let that stop you. grabbing onto the collar on his coat for support, you stand on your toes and lean up, ready to risk it all. “you are worth it to me.”

your words and your lips heat his skin more than his vision ever could, makes all of teyvat stop moving around you; only the sound of the wind proves that the world around you in fact still moves. your lips are so much sweeter, softer than he imagined and your fingers cupping his face feel chilly against his burning cheeks and he welcomes it happily. his hands hover above you, hesitating for a moment before one wraps around your middle, the other tangling into your locks and pulling you closer to him until your feet barely touch the ground. all your worries and frustrations leave with the wind as your lips meet over and over again.

you only pull away when you have to breathe but you don’t go far, not that you could even if you wanted to, and you don’t, with the way his arms hold you close. his warm breath fans over the skin on your cheeks and he can feel yours on his neck as he gently lowers you back down to the ground, placing his forehead on yours when your feet are steady underneath you. your hands find their way from his soft face to his jacket to extra support. it’s a good thing he keeps his arms around you, you aren’t sure you could stay upright with how weak your knees are.

“i’m sorry..” you whisper. you know you’re overstepped, possibly ruined your relationship but your body can’t stop now, moving on it’s own you rest your head against his chest. it’s comforting to know his heart is beating just as wildly as yours.

his arms pull you tight against him, his head rests on yours and you love the way his chest vibrates against you as he speaks, “you have no reason to be,” the sweet sound of his words that come out breathlessly are enough to convince you that you haven’t ruined a thing and just in case it wasn't, he leans done to kiss you once more.

summertime sadness (albedo’s version)

Think I’ll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky.

an ode to heartbreak masterlist:(x)

word count: 5790

genre: smut, angst

pairings: albedo x fem! ballerina! reader

content warnings: very nsfw, minors please block the nsfw-dango tag! friends with benefits, alcohol drinking (all of legal age), taking nudes, fingering, blowjobs, unprotected sex (make sure to wrap it before you tap it!), slapping, overstimulation, degradation

want to be tagged when future oth works come out? click here!

additional notes: a belated happy new year to each and every one of you! I swear I started writing this during the shadows amidst snowstorms event because albedo got me feelin some typa way. but life got in the way so. better late than never. did you guys get albedo during his rerun? :)

“8 pm. Meet me at the studio.”

Keep reading

12:15 AM

kaedehara kazuha.

“hi,” he says in a soft whisper. his face is close to yours, as if his cheek has been pressed against the wood of your door.

“hi.” you reply, breathless.

he leans against the doorframe, rounded irises of ruby inspecting you in silence. midnight, him, here outside your dormitory room. the thought becomes so bizarre that it was almost impossible to believe. but it’s real. kaedehara kazuha is real.

“it’s late,” you swallow anxiously. “you know the rules—”

“no peers sharing the same room after eight,” he chuckles, and the sound echoes deeply in his throat. “i know. just give me a second.”

the tranquility dissipates with a faint clinking from his side, raising his hand to reveal a small compass keychain in his grasp. “i thought you might like it.”

your cheeks flush a crimson shade at the sight of it. “what’s the occasion?”

“was thinking about you.” he murmurs, before jutting the trinket out to your chest, waiting for you to accept it.

and the realization finally strikes you…this is a gift. kazuha picked it out, because he was thinking about you.

“thanks,” you smile, outstretching your hand to take it. your fingers brush slightly, and a jolt of electricity creeps up your skin. “i’ll wear it so i won’t get lost.”

“is that something that happens often?” he grins lopsidedly, which looks unequivocally flirtatious, and you swear you can no longer remember your own name when you stare at it.

“how was your sunday?” kazuha asks afterwards, giving you a weird look when you don’t respond to his previous question.

“ah, it was um,” you shrug. “the usual. homework and sleep. nothing interesting.”

“and your movie?” he nods at the dvd tucked beneath your other arm.

“it was great. you can borrow it next time, if you want.”

the silence is deafening. you watch as kazuha’s gaze flickers towards the dark hallway, and your doorframe, before glancing back outside with a strange expression on his face.

“you know that i like you…right?”

your heart thrums erratically in your chest, and you heave in a deep breath at the revelation. “oh.”

“yeah,” he mumbles, fumbling awkwardly with his dormitory keys in one hand. “i just…had to get it off my chest someday. before i regretted not doing anything, you know?”

you look at his free hand, and how it seemed awfully lonely in the middle of the night.

“but if you don’t, that’s alright.” his lips flatten in a straight line, still averting his gaze. “i’m still taking the next week off, and we won’t have to see each other for a while—”

“so stay.” the words tumble easily from your mouth. “stay with me.”

his eyes finally meet yours, almost softening in admiration at the rosiness on your cheeks.

“you sure about that?” he whispers quietly, unsure of your answer and his crumbling restraint of desire. “i don’t want to force you into this.”

your fingers reach out to snug around his belt loop, gently tugging on the fabric to allow him to come closer. i like you too. isn’t that obvious, you idiot?

“go out with me, kazuha.” you say.

and in the slumbering shadows of the dark hallway, he leaves your room with a breathless grin on his flustered face.

22 w kazuha

stealing him before the angst lovers can take him so true <3

. . .pairing: kazuha x reader

. . .prompt 22: ''there are a hundred ways to say 'i love you,' and this is one of them''

. . .cw: fluff!

a/n: spookii my beloved<3 /p

> fic 4/5 for my 100 follower event! <

kazuha's voice is sweet. it drips like honey and hums like an early autumn breeze-- soft and lilting. fitting for a poet.

"your eyes sparkle even in the darkness," he mumbles almost thoughtlessly, hands wandering over your face. "your skin is beautiful under my fingers. the height of your nose, the dips of your eyes. the shine of your hair, the curve of your lips..."

you find that you can't escape, unable to hide from the attention and love he lavishes onto you.

"you're beautiful," he sighs happily, eyes crinkling as he grins. "i could gaze at you forever, my love. your voice is my favorite song, your face my favorite painting."

"kazuha-"

"yes, my beloved? my star? my moon, the holder of my heart. my only wish?"

you shake your head with a wide grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"i love you, my prince."

"there are a hundred ways to say 'i love you,' moonflower. and this is one of them."

taglist (send an ask to be added/removed!): @tiredsleep @surukaze @storytravelled @serenenation

annotations of love

summary: although you're always looking out for any mistakes he makes, you think you've found the perfect rival in kazuha. but when you begin to spend more time with him, you begin to realize he's also the perfect love interest... after all, why else would someone lend you an personally annotated book?

pairings: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

tags: enemiestolovers!au, modern!au

genre: fluff, humor, slight angst

a/n: i've been having something of an obsession with sylvia plath even tho we finished reading her work last november. i love it and i will not stop talking about her potrayal of women and will include it in a fic about kazuha. god, i just want to have an academic rival who will convince me to read an annotated book so that i can fall in love with them. okay, enjoy this brainrot <3 also ps: i enjoyed writing this kazuha a lot so if you have any requests i will be more than happy to cater to them :)

🍁

“So, class how did we like reading Sylvia Plath?” Miss Aranaki, your Literature teacher, crosses her arms across her chest as she regards the twenty or so of you sitting in front of you, “Any thoughts?”

“I didn’t like it much, actually,” a voice pipes up and without seeing, you know who it is, a groan escaping your lips. Aranaki gives an amused laugh, “Kazuha. Please do elaborate on why you dislike Plath so much.”

Unwillingly, your eyes travel until they come to rest on the mostly-platinum-blonde-headed boy who has his copy of The Bell Jar dismissed on its back by his elbow. “Well, to start with, her poetry is too easily interpretable once you know everything about her enough and the themes are usually just the same old feminist, complaining about privilege and children. Although I must say the touch with the cheating husband in The Rival was interesting, but that was as good as it got.”

Before Kaedehara Kazuha can continue, you, who’s had Plath’s novel clutched tightly in your hands, interrupt him. “Excuse me, to me it sounds like you’re complaining about having to read about a complex female experience. It’s a shame to see men like you roaming around in the campus’ feminist activism clubs when in class you cannot tolerate the slightest shred of powerful women in action.”

Kazuha meets your eyes in a flash, a familiar smile in place - one that is almost friendly, but at the last moment, turns smug. “I’m sorry if I came across as discarding Plath’s unique persona - but I just refuse to credit her writing simply because she’s a woman. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise, don’t you think, Y/N?”

“Please,” you scoff, ears a little red from exasperation, “Her poems are not easily interpreted, Kazuha, you’re just overly entrenching them in context. You can’t make Plath’s poems all about her factual life if you want to take anything from them. The Rival is not definitely about her bastard husband’s mistress - it could just as easily be about her mother if you try to keep your mind open.”

Kazuha opens his mouth to speak but Aranaki cuts him off, “Alright, alright, the two of you. Always a pleasure to hear you go back and forth. Some very valid points have been made. But remember, this class consists of 18 other students. Let’s give allow everyone to speak.”

“Either you really were not paying attention to what we’ve been saying in class, or your brain is simply broken,” you stand up, following her out of the class.

“I don’t know about that, Y/N. You both seemed like you were having a lot of fun-”

“I don’t know about that, Y/N. You both seemed like you were having a lot of fun-”

“Fun? Hu Tao, that man is borderline misogynistic and you think-”

“I think I deserve a little more credit than a borderline misogynist, my dear Y/N.”

You stop in your tracks with a sigh when you spot Kazuha behind you, bag slung lazily over his back. He’s holding his copy of The Bell Jar by the very edge, you notice much to your dismay. “You’re going to have to work harder if you want to seem like you actually care about reading feminist work from writers who are actual women. Not just old horny men—”

“Please don’t tell me you’re still holding that time I praised Murakami against me?” Kazuha’s brows furrow, looking almost genuinely concerned about what you think of him. You roll your eyes, catching the ill-covered laugh that leaves Hu Tao, who has been observing the two of you silently.

“No, but you really don’t think Murakami’s flat female characters, who by the way only function to serve the lonely loser men, are anywhere near the same kind of writing as Plath’s honest depiction—” You cut yourself off when you catch Hu Tao throwing you a suggestive look and scoff, “Never mind, I don’t have time to have this conversation. Let’s just go, Hu Tao.”

“But—” You promptly block Kazuha’s attempt to probably retort by taking Hu Tao’s arm and marching off, carrying a growing a feeling of doubt in your chest.

🍁

“That will be $15, please.” You nod at the cashier, internally crying at how expensive a single coffee was. You feel yourself cry even louder when you rummage through your wallet to only find a total of $10.

“Um, sorry, just a moment,” you feel yourself beginning to panic, ready to just about be hit by lightning, “I couldv’e sworn I saw another—”

“Here, I’m paying for them.” You jump up at the voice beside you and you swear to God if this morning could get any worse, it’d have to be because Kazuha stepped in to save you from some kind of financial crisis that would’ve inevitably lead into a public mental breakdown.

“W-What? No, I can pay for myself— ”Thank you for buying from us. We hope to see you again.”

You’d rather not the hold up the rest of the line any longer so you step away, pulling Kazuha with you, with a scowl on your face. You shove the $10 you’d been holding into his palm which he looks at in confusion, “I’ll pay you back the rest of it later, I—”

“No, you really don’t need to do that, Y/N,” the boy smiles, a soft comforting look in his eyes that you’ve never encountered before. It annoys you.

“Honestly, would you stop cutting me off all the time?” Kazuha shuts up with a serious raise of the brown, “I was very much capable of paying for myself back there but thanks. Bye.”

You intend to distance yourself from him as much just because you’re equally embarrassed and confused by his presence, especially at having been caught in a moment of somewhat vulnerability by him of all people. You take a seat in the cafe by the window, hoping to ease your worries with a productive rush.

Of course, the universe, and specifically, one crimson-streaked head, has other plans. “What the fuck are you doing?” you question as Kazuha settles into the seat across from you, resting his bag beside him, hands coming to drum against the table - the table that you’d taken to get away from specifically him.

“I’m doing what you’re doing. Studying,” he says, pulling out his laptop, nonchalant as if the two of you aren’t after each other’s throats in class all the time. You’re actually speechless as he actually starts typing away, eyes on the screen. You let out a frustrated sigh at his behavior, unable to just ignore his presence, a weakness of yours you absolutely despise.

“Kazuha, I think you’ve asserted your compassion enough for a day. You don’t have to continue acting like you don’t actually hate me,” your voice threatens to falter when Kazuha looks up with wide eyes.

“What do you— But I don’t hate you,” Kazuha replies, not losing a second of time after you’ve spoken. You shake your head at him, a headache imminent, as you stand up. “Wait- where are you going?”

“Somewhere else. See you in class, Kazuha. Leave me alone or I’ll report you.”

🍁

You suppose you feel kind of bad about the recent encounters you’ve had with Kazuha. You only met him in class, first in a course called The Graphic Novel where you had your first argument with him (you wanted to focus on the postmodern themes of V for Vendetta, while Kazuha was overly obsessed with the art and a specific sequence of events). From there, it just seemed like the two of you couldn’t get away from each other - next it was a creative course about nonfiction where you found yourself competing with him to see who could impress the famously cold teacher.

Before you’d known, you’d settled into a sort of rhythm with Kazuha where you’d each challenge and infuriate each other, always ready to pounce. It was surprisingly an interesting part of your education - maybe even the most interesting, since you hardly were able to spend a lot of time doing anything other than work on essays and study for the next thing. But recently, you were feeling more... bitter? around him. It was unsettling, especially when suddenly it seemed like Kazuha was capable of more emotions outside of disdain for you. You weren’t stupid enough to not realize you were having fun but when Hu Tao had so explicitly pointed it out... it almost felt wrong. Like you’d been lying to yourself somehow.

You groan as you zone back into reality, coming to terms with the fact that you had made no progress with the last assignment of the Plath course. It has been a few weeks since the course ended but Aranaki had sent out a final feedback-slash-evaluative essay question asking you to talk about a favorite text from Plath. It is optional, you recall, but you physically cannot forgo the opportunity to do extra work. You hit your head in thought, wondering what you are to do with yourself.

“Having trouble picking a favorite?”

You are not proud of the squeak that leaves you in surprise as you jump around in your seat. “Kazuha! You fucking— Stop sneaking up on people in the library! I swear that’s so insensitive.”

Kazuha, clad in a red sweatshirt that matches the red streak in his hair, sits down besides you with an amused laugh. You’re met with a sweet almond scent as he shifts closer to peek at your screen. “Sorry,” he whispers, “You’re writing about Ariel? I’m surprised.”

“Why? Don’t want me writing about the same thing as you?” You gesture toward his bag, which reveals the corner of a sheet with the essay question, “I’m sure you wrote a whole pretentious thing about how shallow and trite Plath’s poetry is.” The boy pins you with an unreadable look as he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you.

What is he so serious about?

“You don’t actually think I’m a woman-hater, do you?” You are tempted to retaliate with a compilation of all the times he was even remotely dismissive of a female author, but you cannot bring yourself to the longer you look at Kazuha. His eyes are downcast and don’t meet yours when you give a preliminary laugh of ridicule, which greatly worries you. Though you find it hard to believe, Kazuha seems genuinely hurt at the idea of you perceiving him as someone against women.

“Oh, well, not really. But you did seem slightly on the wrong side when you dismissed Plath’s experiences like that. And then, making her seem like she was entirely about her hatred for her husband wasn’t a very good look, either.” You try to stay in character without actually hurting Kazuha’s feelings but he seems crestfallen either way. You begin to feel bad for some reason when he pulls out a few sheets of paper from his bag, before handing you one.

“And what is this?” You raise your brow questioningly and all Kazuha replies with is, “Read this.” You look down at the sheet and find that it is a print-out of Plath’s poem, The Munich Mannequins. Your course on Plath didn’t include this particular poem because there wasn’t much time but regardless, you’ve read the poem enough times to not have to go through it again. What catches your attention is the little scribbles in green around the printed text.

It’s Kazuha’s annotations of the poem, you realize, and already find yourself somewhat moved. You know for a fact that Kazuha does not annotate something he doesn’t find truly meaningful. “Hmm,” you look back at Kazuha with a smile that is completely unlike you. But you can hardly help it, “Your analysis of the metaphor of the mannequins is... insightful, although I don’t agree with it.”

Kazuha’s dullness suddenly melts away when you speak, a bright grin in its place. “I’m glad you think so. I realized I was spending so much effort in trying to find out what Plath actually wanted to convey that in the end, I didn’t even have my own interpretations. And looking back at it, her work is actually pretty cool.”

This time you laugh, teasingly nudging Kazuha’s shoulder, “Way to go with the academic language, Kazuha.” Your laughter only grows louder when the boy’s cheeks color slightly pink. “But I’m really happy that you were able to appreciate Plath. I think maybe we found something we agree on.”

He nods, his usual easy smile returning, “I have to admit that I only gave Plath another chance because I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking I was a borderline misogynist.” You feel yourself flush and you cough to cover it up, “Still can’t believe you were so bothered by that comment.”

“Of course, I was,” Kazuha says matter-of-factly, “You said it so seriously. And then that day in the cafe, you seemed to truly hate me. You even accused me of hating you. I felt like I’d done something unforgivable.”

You grimace in guilt. “Sorry about that,” you pat his back hesitantly, “I was just a bit in my head back then. I don’t actually hate you. Or think that you hate me.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want to have you stop talking to me, I think some life-giving part of me would die.”

🍁

Here’s the thing: you know how you’ve hardly been able to do anything outside of worry about your grades and keep track of your deadlines? Yes, that meant you hadn’t even enough time to have crushes, or even think about who you’re attracted. Which is why you’re caught in some real fucking trouble when you realize you like Kazuha.

Since your conversation with him in the library, something had changed between the two of you. You still made sure to battle each other fiercely in class, no doubt, but when you weren’t in class, you were actually able to hold a civil conversation. In fact, sometimes your conversations outside of class were more enjoyable than your arguments and disagreements, given that those same dissents would often turn into inside jokes outside of class.

It started with Kazuha asking you to peer-review an essay for another class (he wouldn’t dare to ask your help with a common assignment, that meant war) and you getting impressed again by his ability to analyze and argue. Slowly, it became a ritual for you to meet Kazuha after classes to work on something together, which took more time than required because you’d be bothering each other the whole time, chattering away loud enough that the librarian had banned your entrance in the library. So now you met him on the college lawn where your time together almost felt romantic.

“God, I hate myself,” you mumble into your hands as you cringe at your internal monologue. Hu Tao who’s keeping you company while you wait for Kazuha, laughs knowingly, “Stop hating on yourself for having feelings, Y/N. Believe it or not, it’s normal.”

“I know, but not for me! I’ve had like one romantic experience before and it involved hand-holding.”

“Hey, hand-holding can be pretty intimate, too,” she retorts, frowning, “I’m sure if you tried it with Kazuha, you’d actually combust on the spot.”

“Keep it down, Hu Tao, this is not exactly something I’m proud of—”

“What are you not proud of?” You freeze as Kazuha comes into sight from behind you but relax when you examine his expression and see nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing, just her usual spiel about hating life,” Hu Tao covers for you as she rises from next to you, smirking as she pushes Kazuha in her spot. He falls all too close to you, head hitting your shoulder.

“Careful!” You scowl at Hu Tao as you steady Kazuha with a hand on his back. She winks at you as she turns to leave, “See ya for dinner tomorrow, stupid.”

Kazuha chuckles beside you and you can feel the sound vibrate through your hand, still warm against his back, “You must be really close to her if she can walk away alive after calling you stupid.”

You cough a little as you are suddenly reminded of the proximity, thanks to how Kazuha has made no move to remove his head from against your shoulder, even though you’d retracted your hand from his back long ago. “I’m not that easily offended, you know.”

Kazuha looks amused as he shifts to look at you, much to your chagrin because fuck! you’re still way too close to him so now you’re basically sharing the same air. “So if I called you stupid—?”

“Don’t even dream of it,” you push his head off and he pulls away, laughing lowly. You sigh in relief now that you’re at a distance that won’t kill you as Kazuha pulls out a red book from inside his jacket pocket.

“What book is that?”

Kazuha holds it for you with a hesitant smile, “It’s for you, actually.” You hum questioningly as you take it and scoff when you see the title. Sputnik Sweetheart. By Haruki Murakami.

“Before you chase me away for bringing Murakami in your sights, listen to me, okay?” he says, with a hand on your elbow and you fall silent, a little nervous. “I think you should read it because this book actually has complex female characters, unlike all his other work. There’s a lesbian relationship in there and a very unexpected plot twist, too. You might like it... I think.”

The amount of effort it takes to not scream on the top of your lungs because Kazuha’s cheeks are dusted adorably red as he rants to you about the book, his eyes not meeting you and you can’t take it because he’s so shy about it all. You silently open to a random page and you swear you die right there when you see notes in pencil along the margin.

“You’ve annotated this?” you ask through a small smile. Kazuha rubs the back of his neck, “Well, yes. I usually annotate my novels. I hope you don’t mind. Think of it as having a really long conversation with me?”

You chuckle as hit Kazuha’s forehead with the book lightly, “Why the fuck would I want to have a conversation with you about a book? I’m bound to give myself a migraine.” You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning as you continue, “But oh, well. Since you went back to Plath for me, I think I’ll give Murakami a chance.”

Kazuha pumps a fist in the air, beyond delighted, “Yes! I promise you’re going to love me after this.”

🍁

“Kazuha, I have to something to tell you,” you say, hands clutched behind your back. Kazuha turns away from the conversation he’d just been having with Aether to give you a warm look.

“What is it?” He waves goodbye to Aether, grinning when you reveal the red book he’d lent you a few weeks ago. Kazuha jumps up and down as his hands cup to hold yours and you can’t help but jump excitedly with him. “Did you finish? What did you think of it? How was his description of Miu and Sumiere? Oh, what was your reaction to Miu’s backstory?”

You laugh as you pause to form your response. “Well, I actually did not hate it. I actually enjoyed his descriptions of the women—” Kazuha squeals in excitement as you continue, “But! There was man still, you know. And his presence as the narrator of everything was a bit suffocating. So, not perfect. But dammit, the parts about Miu watching herself that night in the park and everything Sumiere writes in her letters - Ahhh, that was just amazingly disorienting.”

“So?” Kazuha grins at you, shaking you by the shoulders, “You don’t hate Murakami anymore? I succeed in convincing you that he wrote one decent novel? You love me?”

You successfully ignore the last question he asks as you reply, “I guess I don’t hate him but I can’t say he’s a good writer still. He’s definitely got some dimension but he needs to stop putting men at the center of his universes.”

Kazuha nods as he takes back the book from you, “That’s fair enough, I suppose. I didn’t expect to—” he pauses, a new kind of smile blossoming on his face as he fans through the pages, “Oh, what’s this? Did you make notes on the book?”

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten about that. “Oh, right. I thought it would be funny to respond to some of your annotations. You like some really strange paragraphs, you know.” You quickly take away the book from him before he can grin at anymore of your notes, “I made them on sticky notes so that I can remove them. I just forgot.” You begin removing the loosely glued pieces of paper when Kazuha snatches away the novel back, holding it away from your grasp.

“No! Don’t do that. I want to read them. I can’t lose this opportunity to actually get to read your annotations,” he says, a full-fledged blush on his cheeks for some reason.

You laugh awkwardly, “F-fine, weirdo. Just remove them after you read them.”

“Why would I do that?” Kazuha hugs the book protectively with an annoyingly smug smile on his face, “I’m cherishing this for the rest of eternity.”

You turn around at that, clutching at your chest as if in pain, heart racing, “W-Whatever. I’m going to study. Come if you want.”

An hour later, you fall back into the grass with a whine because you really cannot get your mind off of Kazuha, which was not exactly aided by the fact that the boy was right next to you, opting to bump knees with you as he managed to concentrate with no issues.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” You open your eyes to find Kazuha leaning over you, arm placed next to your head. You watch as his forehead is curtained by his hair and you pout as you silently flick at a chunk of his hair. “I don’t know why you even bother to tie your hair if it’s all over the place anyway.”

Kazuha shrugs with a playful smile and is about to reply before he cuts himself off, “Oh, there’s something in hair, I think.” You reach for your hair but Kazuha beats you to it, leaning closer to your face as he gently plucks off the said something off your hair, holding it up so you can see. “It was a leaf. Heh.”

You reach for your hair self-consciously and are surprised when you find Kazuha’s fingers through the strands. You pull away just as quick you touched him but his hand chases after you, coming to capture it in his, his fingers resting through yours.

“Mhmm,” Kazuha hums delicately, face hovering dangerously close to yours, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You make an embarrassing choking sound before you place a hand against his chest, pushing with little effort. You avert your gaze as you speak, “S-Stop doing that.”

You can’t see it but Kazuha’s smile weakens as he asks, “Stop doing what?”

“Stuff like this. Like what you did back there with my annotations and- and- right now, this hand-holding stuff. It’s not funny, you know.”

“I don’t think it’s funny either, Y/N,” he says, “I’m always serious about you. So would you please look at me?” Your hand twitches in Kazuha’s as you glance at him and instantly turn away when you see him gazing at you. He does look serious, intense in fact as he looks at you.

His fingers tighten around yours when you suddenly feel a cold pressure against your ear. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you realize it’s Kazuha’s nose pressed up against your neck. “K-Kazuha, cut it out—”

“I like you, Y/N,” he whispers softly, “Actually, that’s an understatement. I really, really like you. I’ve never been so excited to have arguments with someone and I’ve never cared so much about what someone else thought about a book. You’re the smartest person I’ve met.”

You can’t believe your ears, though they turn red anyway as Kazuha pulls away to look at you. “I think you’re so beautiful. I can hardly think right when I’m around you.”

You feel breathless when Kazuha looks at you like that, with an intimacy of a lover and fumble to reply, “I- I like you, too, Kazuha. You’re cool, I guess. And ridiculously handsome.” You mumble the last part but he seems to hear it, probably because you’re so close.

“Would you go out with me?” His eyes are swimming with adoration when you finally meet them. When you nod, a gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of Kazuha’s lips against your cheek. “Kiss me already, would you?” This time, you feel his laughter through your own bones, strong and loving.

🍁

Bonus:

“I really wish you would go easy on me in class, dove,” Kazuha complains against your lips and you pull away to laugh at the slight pout in his features. You run a hand through his open hair, arranging the red strands together, “No way, babe. Sorry but sometimes, you’re just wrong.”

He deflates against your neck and you pull him inside the blankets with you with a chortle, “But if you want, we can read Mrs Dalloway together for class?” He instantly perks up, arms coming to hugging you tight, “I would love that. I want to hear your reading voice. We can even play the parts to make it more realistic.”

You groan, “No, we’re not doing that, Kazu. Please don’t make me regret this.” Regret it you do later that week, when Kazuha proudly declares to the whole class, including Miss Aranaki, that the two of you had read the assigned reading together.