Ugh It’s Akaashi Feels Hours Cuz He’s My Comfort Character And A Girl Is Depressed

before xiao, there was alatus. xiao x gn!reader. warnings: angst, mcd!!, blood, xiao's backstory. wc: 2,708. semi proofread.

before xiao, there was alatus.

alatus who served an unknown god with a deep desire for power and used him to slaughter those who opposed his wishes. helpless and weak alatus who devoured dreams and crush the innocent’s hopes. feeble alatus who withstood countless wounds and near-death experiences.

it was him who deserved the terrified looks of his victims, begging him to spare even at least their children and kill them—only for his body to move without his permission. he who dirtied his soul and tainted his hands at the blood that painted his face.

“you’re tending to wounds that won’t kill me,” alatus muttered.

“immortal yes, invincible no.” the once white cloth you had been using from a week ago was now a light pink and alatus knew it was the blood of his victims. it was wet and cold as you wiped the cloth across his face, removing all the red splatters and cleaning the wounds that he newly acquired.

“you’re thinking lowly of me. you know i’ll get dirty again once i step out and—” he let out a muffled noise as you wiped the cloth on his mouth, shutting him up from his self-deprecating talk. still, this earned you a glare.

smiling lightly—one that looked almost apologetic, you look down briefly. “i know…you hate seeing the blood of others on you. so let me do my job just this once, okay?”

of course, there were many things alatus hated in this world. he hated how you were always right. he also hated how you made him feel. hated how he became selfish at the thought of being with you.

you were a mortal and he an adeptus who still could not fend for himself. while you were free, alatus would be forever chained to his master. he’d told you many times to leave him be, that he was dangerous, that you’ll get yourself killed by him, but you merely smiled at his claims.

“stop looking so worried,” you giggled. “your master won’t come and barge in here. what do you know? maybe he’ll make me fight you and think you’re unfit for the job because you’ll lose to me!”

alatus scoffed—visibly frowning—and crossed his arms as he gave you a look of detest. “you mortals and your imagination.” 

“and this mortal,” you gestured to yourself, “is taking care of an injured adeptus.”

you leaned towards him, gently placing a hand on his cheek as you look up at him. “alatus,” you whispered.

he leaned into your touch, humming. your skin was warm and palm lightly calloused from the everyday work you did but he loved the way you held him. you let out a small laugh, thumb brushing over the healed wound on his cheek as he cracked an eye open to gaze at you tenderly.

“i went to town today and zhao told me there would be a war. do you think it’s true?” you mumbled, already knowing you would be separated from him.

“your god will protect you,” was all alatus could say to you.

war meant death, countless and thousands who would perish at the hands of whoever was responsible. and though alatus protected you from the shadows, he would not be able to be by your side once a war would brew. someone like him who bathed in death was for the battlefield—to kill, to destroy. war meant separation and alatus feared the day your hands wouldn’t be as warm as you held him now.

“hah…i suppose,” you said, your shoulders dropping. “at least i can spend today with you.”

“you talk as if our time is limited,” he scowled. “it’s not, at least for now. i’ll…still come by.”

the lies he told were piling up and he knew they would soon spill out. still, if the lies meant your happiness, alatus would tell a thousand just for the smile on your face to stay. he knew it was wrong—lying directly to your face as you believed him—but he couldn’t dare to see the look of anguish ever again.

with a content hum, you pulled him into your arms and basked in the setting sun. 

–

alatus will never tell you how he felt whenever he was with you. how his stomach would make him uneasy and transform him into a small shy cat, afraid that he’d hurt you in any way should you come close to him. how his day immediately brightens up when he sees you standing by a tree, a stern expression on your face.

"you have blood all over you again," you'd say with a sigh.

and even if you hid the fact that you were terrified of the things he did, you took him into your arms and ran your fingers in his hair. the sweet nothings you whispered when he’d nap on your lap even for a few minutes, leaning down to kiss his forehead made his heart swell.

and he’s glad that he didn’t abandon you the day he saw you.

instead, he listened to the way his name falls from your lips. he chose to lie in your arms and listen to the faint sound of your beating heart. alatus has looked into your eyes as he caresses your face in the moonlight, humming as you whispered about your day to him. 

you were all alatus had in this godforsaken world. he who is the devil would lay at your feet and repent for his actions. if alatus could never forgive himself, you would take his face by your hands and kiss his eyes for they were the reason he saw himself in such a bad light.

the only thing alatus wanted was to be by your side. forever.

he would hold your hand and watch the way your eyes would sparkle at the sight of the sun setting everyday if he wanted. carry you on his back if you ever felt tired from walking whenever you’d set out on a new journey with him. he would eat the food you prepared for him, biting back a soft smile as you complained that his master would treat him so cruelly to not let him eat.

he adored you wholeheartedly.

but you were mortal, ever so fragile.

there would be times alatus would not be able to be by your side and the thought frightened him more times than you’d think.

how could he live a life without you?

he was selfish but he knew you’d still risk it all for him. it was only natural for him to do the same. you were mortal and you’d vanish soon enough but alatus would do anything to keep you alive.

–

“it’s a new dish i’ve been trying out. the ingredients are kind of expensive, so don’t expect me to make it every time!” you reminded as you set the two plates down on the table. 

“your fingers are all…” alatus muttered as he picked up the spoon, eyeing your bandaged fingers—blood still seeping through.

you held them to your chest, offering him a laugh. “it’s nothing, i swear! don’t freak out if you find blood in your food—i’m kidding, i swear.”

he almost looked offended at your statement, looking down at the plate and nudging it with the spoon. it was times like this that alatus did enjoy your presence and warmth. just the two of you basking in the moonlight. the food quickly melted into his mouth and he closed his eyes.

“well?” you peered at him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

alatus turned to you, paused and reached his hand out to bring your forehead closer to his lips. he resumed eating after.

there was nothing he could say but he knew that you already knew the answer to your question.

you leaned onto him, your head on his shoulders as you looked up at the night sky. “hm. let’s name it…almond tofu? it’s made from that, or maybe we should call it tofu almond.” 

“it sounds like something a child would call,” he commented.

“alatus!” you gasped. “take that back!”

“i never said it wasn’t delicious.”

“i suppose you’re right… i hate you and your remarks.”

alatus chuckles lightly, nodding. he takes you in his arms and breathes you in—like a bee needing flowers to survive. you were the light that shone brightly beside the devil, his savior and sanctuary. 

-

fight for me and get me a seat as an archon, his master had demanded all so suddenly.

as he had always been in, alatus was back on the battlefield. his polearm would slash and destroy anything that came his way should they disobey his master, his god. the blood of the innocent on his hands as he slaughtered each and every one.

alatus would never forget the terrified looks on their face, begging him to spare their child.

he hated every second of it. he could not stop even if he wanted to, the strings on his body were being controlled by his god. his god who desperately wanted the seat as one of the seven—greedy and merciless, he spared no one.

red and black was all alatus could see—he had forgotten the colorful skies, the greenery of nature, and the color of the love you gave him.

his soul was tainted and dirty, no repenting could ever make you forgive him now. should alatus crawl to your feet and beg for forgiveness, he knew you would stare at him in disgust and punish him for what he had done.

home was no longer with you, no longer in your arms that would wrap around him and have you whispering soft nothings. alatus was leaving battlefield after battlefield and soon, it had grown into his home.

days felt like years and he wished to head back to you each time he would rest—but he was bound by contracts and his weakness, you. 

-

 “…isn’t that him? he’s disgusting. i can’t believe he’s one of us.”

“it’s like he doesn’t have a mind of his own! what are you—don’t leave me!”

“…master, alatus has caused a great casualty. your soldiers are dying at his hands as well.”

“…master, alatus has killed general zho… we must kill him, it’s the only way—"

“you dare disobey me? alatus is my greatest soldier.”

“alatus, you must kill everyone who opposes me.”

“no god will save you, you damned devil!”

and soon, alatus had begun to kill gods. gods who waged war with him and his master, gods who wanted to flee and save their people, gods who did not care about the seating of celestia.

do you actually think you’re not a monster?

do you know what’s worse than a demon like you? a liar.

you killed people.

no one would forgive you.

what would [name] think?

what would [name] think?

whaT WOULD [NAME] THINK?

it’s in the most gruesome battle that he awakens at your name.

“the name xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. he endured much suffering, as you have. use this name from now on.” morax stood in front of alatus—no, xiao.

his master was now dead.

he had won the battle—but at what cost? 

xiao fell on his knees. his world had crumbled.

death was inevitable, it really was. but he had told himself he would go to great lengths to stop death from clinging to him—stop clinging to anyone he loved. he had never loved anyone as much as you before, you were the only one he knew how to love.

so, tell him, why did death cling to him?

a minute earlier. ten minutes earlier. no, an hour earlier. god, maybe a week earlier. you, who he swore to protect with all his heart, clung to him desperately, sobs escaping your lips as you trembled in his arms.

“alatus…it hurts! it hurts!”

xiao bit back the tears, his head buried on your neck as you cried on his chest. “it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, i promise,” he soothed, lips shaking as he held you tighter.

“i don’t want to die, alatus, i don’t want to!” your voice was weak, full of fear and heavy breaths. xiao wishes he could hear your voice from before, joyous and teasing.

like everyone he had killed, your blood was on his hands. on his arms. on his clothes. on his face. your blood was everywhere on him. it seeped into him and he could feel every bit of it. xiao wanted to vomit, you were everything he had and you were dying before him.

red—it was all he could see.

the blood that seeped through your clothes, from your arms to your middle to your legs. the wounds on your face must have hurt—he wishes he was there earlier. he would have kept you safe. he should have kept you safe.

your cries were even worse. it was the only thing he could hear as he held on to you, tears already down his face as he hung his mouth open—unable to accept the fact that you laid before him with blood. your cries were painful and it hurt him. hurt him till his bones and hurt him in his heart.

sobs wracked your body and you could feel the pain. how painful your wounds were. 

“it hurts!” you cried, “it hurts so bad!”

xiao ran his fingers through your hair, attempting to soothe your cries. his hand reaching out to cup your face as you looked up at him with tear-stricken eyes. you cherished life and you cherished being with him.

losing life meant losing him. 

“you won’t die,” he repeated over and over again.

please…

 xiao wished it was enough to comfort you but really, it was for him. for him to stop falling apart and hurry and take you to the adepti.

“alatus,” you choked out, “please i want to live, i want-i want to be with you…please save me.”

a new name, he wanted to tell you. he lived under a new god now. the cruel master that you hated was now dead and he was saved. the war you had told him about was now over.

you can be together as usual now. he had so many things to say but his body trembled and you simply cried into his shoulder, begging him and any god that you wanted to live and to be saved.

the pain was unmeasurable and both of you knew that you were unsavable. still, you begged him to save you. you were being selfish, so selfish. but you wanted to be with him, feel his smile against your shoulder, have him bury his face into your neck in embarrassment.

“you’ll live. you’ll live. i’ll-i’ll take you to-to morax,” he spluttered, already making up his mind that he should at least try anything to save you. but you hissed in pain when he lifted you up and xiao knew.

there was nothing he could do.

alatus, what do you think of my dish?

alatus, do you think we can gather some qingxin?

alatus, kiss me?

 alatus, welcome home!

 alatus.

alatus.

alatus, do you want me to die?

alatus, why are you so useless?

alatus, you killed me.

(i didn’t…!)

“alatus, i love you, i love you, i love you,” you whispered against his skin. briefly, you wanted to see him smile at you but you were already being too selfish; so, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes at the warmth he brought you. “even-even until death, i will-will love you.”

“you’ll be okay,” xiao whispered, hand by your head as tears rolled down his cheeks. he was weak—he’d always been weak. “it’s okay, i love you too… so, please… it’ll be okay, it won’t hurt anymore. i love you, i love you."

xiao could only wish you managed to hear it.

before liyue and its people, there was you who he swore to protect.

before xiao, there was alatus who wished that you could have stayed with him as xiao.

notes the 2.7 archon quest absolutely wrecked me, i felt so sad seeing xiao wanting to sacrifice himself so i wrote this to help <3 hope u like it because i know i did

gen taglist @ljinghe @yaefics @imtoodumbforaname @wccycc @sugxqts @cottonfluffs // join the taglist here

Wishful Thinking

Fandom: Persona 5

P5 Protagonist/Joker x Fem Reader

P5 Protagonist/Joker x Sumire|Kasumi Yoshizawa/Violet

Summary: Sumire knew that she was only fooling herself from seeing the truth. Again.

One-shot

Content: Romance, unrequited love, unrequited crush, unrequited pining, angst, heartbreak, P5 Royal spoilers, established relationship, jealousy, unhappy ending.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist | AO3

Sumire realized she fell in love with him after the events of Maruki’s palace. It was just her, Joker, Crow, and you. You and the boys were able to defect against Maruki’s false reality, working together to change his heart and bring everything to normal.

She always thought you made a balanced trio. Joker and Crow always did have a rivalry that would never go away, but you’d be the one to mediate and dissolve any conflict between them. Sumire envied the maturity you had, how you knew how to handle people and situations while being such a capable fighter. In full honesty you both got along fairly well, but there seemed to be some tension between you that the redhead knew only existed because of her. And she had a feeling you were aware of that.

Akechi had also sensed it, watching your interactions. It was a skill of his, after all, he is a detective. Sumire could never tell with Akira, he always tended to keep a straight face all the time. Even when he told dry jokes and sarcastic remarks, never once did he crack.

”Th-Thank you, Joker.” Violet says, face flushed behind her mask as the noiret swooped in and pulled her away from a Shadow’s attack. Though that suddenly brought him to accidentally carrying her bridal style.

Joker responded with a nod to her. There was a warm feeling in her chest as she basked in the sensation of what it would be like to be in his arms.

”We need to get moving.” you cut in, tone empty as you walked, more like marched, passed them. Never once looking in their direction.

”I agree,” Crow voices as he followed after you. He gave Joker and Violet a side eye as he did.

The redhead turned to see the noiret’s gaze focusing on you. He immediately let her down, unexpectedly a bit rough, which startled her.

”Sorry about that.” he apologized before going after you and Crow. He knew that the young detective liked to rub him in when he could. And that included you when jealousy happened.

Violet was quiet as she trailed after the three of you. Watching how Joker’s hand reached and grasped the end of your sleeve. Not intertwining hands, but an action showing his reassurance in a gentle and slow way.

Violet hated how unnerved she felt when she saw you let Joker come closer as you both walked.

It was different with you. Akira’s expression would melt into a softer, more fonder look when you were in his sight. She could see it in the way you both fought together, the grace and strength shared between you as you took down Shadows. How he’d reach out for you in case there was any danger. And the time when the gymnast saw him kiss the back of your hand like a gentleman. Rubbing a red gloved thumb over your knuckles as he stared at you like you were all that mattered.

Sumire wanted to believe that it was all because of his alter ego, where the typical quiet and level headed Akira turned into the bold and charismatic Joker of the Phantom Thieves. She felt a connection with him when they began their friendship during the school cleanup. Akira was kind when talking to her, helping her fend off against a man who didn’t take no for an answer, who wanted to learn some gymnastic tricks, who would hear her out when she needed it, who cared even if she wasn’t her twin sister, Kasumi. Just plain ordinary Sumire Yoshizawa who loved Akira Kurusu, and she was only fooling herself to thinking that maybe a small part of him reciprocated her feelings.

”Are you alright, Sumire?” Akira asked, tilting his head at her. He was still in his green apron, working alone at Leblanc. The place wasn’t really busy, only Sumire who sat at the counter as a customer.

“Oh, I’m fine Senpai!” she brushed off quickly. “I was just lost in thought is all!”

He lets out a nod in response, going over to dry some of the mugs. She found it nice to see him work.

”Hey Joker!” Morgana called out, coming down the stairs. “Lady (Y/N) left a text for you.”

The noiret turns his head to the feline, stopping his task. “What’d she say?”

”She wanted to know if your study date is still on.” answered Morgana as he leaped onto the counter.

”Then I’ll let her know.” says Akira before looking to Sumire. “Do you mind watching the café for a second? There aren’t any customers right now but just in case…”

”It’s no trouble at all!” the young gymnast replied, shaking her head. “I’d be happy to.”

“Thanks.” he voiced appreciatively, going up the steps.

”Young love, right?” the black cat spoke to her while staring at the staircase. “I swear this guy is ridiculously whipped. You should see him when he calls her. He gets that dopey smile on his face.”

”Ah…” Sumire trails off, a wavered grin spreading her lips. “They fit together, don’t they?”

”You have no idea.” Morgana sighed out, tired of always being the one to see the sappiness of your relationship.

Sumire’s chest feels tight, causing her hand to go over it, gripping the fabric of her shirt.

When the redhead found out she was falling for the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, it made her try to act braver with her actions, hoping he’d pick up on it. But she knew it was pointless when all he saw was you. Who easily touched Akira like second nature, holding hands, caressing his arm, standing side by side. And he did the same, wrapping an arm around your waist when a Shadow went to strike you, how open and comfortable he was with talking to you. He showed a more bolder part of himself, flirting and giving you more of his attention.

When Sumire was in her thief getup, she almost thought she saw his eyes trail over her thighs, bare from the black leotard and boots. It made her flush when she thought about it.

She wasn’t really one of them, a member of his group. Though she was always welcomed to help them out. Violet had a fluttery sensation in her chest when she noticed how much she and Joker matched in their outfits: three long black tailcoats, red gloves, reverse coloured masks. She wondered if that was such a coincidence.

Then she’d see you and realize it wasn’t just them. Your attire complimented well with his just as much as hers. Sumire remembers how Ann would tease how you and Akira were like a couple. Ryuji would join in, and Haru would fawn over how you behaved as one. Sumire wanted to consider it all playful banter, however the tightness in her chest said otherwise.

Going to the park, she learned the hard truth. The first-year was frozen in place when she saw Akira lean down to you, a deep kiss shared between you. You had one hand tangled in his messy black locks, the other over his neck. While his was around your waist, the other on the small of your back.

Sumire felt like she couldn’t move, her heart seemed to plummet to the ground. Luckily, she was not in both of your lines of vision. Things would’ve been more awkward if she was. The redhead was close enough to where she could hear the words Akira was saying to you.

”I love you, Treasure.” the noiret said, voice entirely sincere as his face was inches away from yours. With him pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

The pet name struck a hit to Sumire. How funny was that, a thief who steals Treasures in the Metaverse calling a lover that. That proved how much Akira felt for you.

A giggle escapes you as he nudges his nose against yours. “Always a charmer, huh?”

”Only for you.” he grins.

Finally, Sumire’s body was able to move, and she didn’t hesitate to run off in her previous direction. Who was she kidding? She never stood a chance, and she felt horrible that she was trying to push you apart when you’ve loved each other before she even came into the picture.

Once Sumire had stopped, she rested her hands on her knees as she panted. “Why do I keep doing that?” she whispers to herself. “Wanting something that isn’t mine to take…”

First Kasumi’s spotlight, now Akira himself? Sumire put her hands to her face, feeling her eyes water and her breathing hitch. Her heart sinking and turning as she thought back to the memory of you two. All the signs were there, yet she chose to blindly ignore them all. You didn’t deserve to be hurt all because she was greedy. She really had it coming, so she deemed that the throbbing ache in her heart was fitting for trying to steal Akira from you. And Sumire has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll never love her the way he does for you and the way she does him.

petrichor.

# — pairing: kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, kazuha

# — warnings: brief description of making out

# — tags: fluff, modern au, reader's got it bad for kazuha, yes this is self-indulgent, tiny angst drop

# — notes: i'll go stand in the naughty corner now. it's almost 4 am and i'm still stuck on masked kazuha. i was supposed to sleep. i'll stop now, promise. as always, reblogs and reactions are greatly appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!

wanna join the tag list?

✧ — 🍁 — ✧

"can i...?"

you tentatively reach towards his mask, your fingers hovering over the material in question. the man before you reaches up and closes his hand around your wrist gently. "what are you asking for?" he asks in return.

you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly too dry for you to form the right words. you wish you could see his eyes better so you could have a clue as to what he's thinking. you only ever know that he's looking at you from the way the hairs on your body stand on end. right now, your entire body is on alert, prickling at the feeling of being watched. "i..." you reply dumbly. "i don't know."

"you're lying." he tugs you closer by your wrist, so that your nose is practically touching that of the mask. if his face was uncovered, you would be sharing a breath. "tell me the truth." his voice, though muffled by the mask, cuts straight through your senses. outside, rain begins to fall, the battering of raindrops on your windows filling the silences left between his words. "what do you want?"

it amazes you, it really does, how you've come to this point with him. three months ago, you were afraid that this man would turn his katana on you for having seen him carrying out his missions. you were, and still are, a liability, one that he should have taken care of long, long ago. yet here you sit, across from the man whose true name you don't even know, shuffling in place as you hesitate to ask to kiss him.

your feelings for this man, who introduced himself as 'momiji' for the sake of anonymity, came as no shock to you. call it cliché, but it was impossible not to fall for this masked stranger. he's the reason why you walked away from your first encounter with your life; he's the reason why your first aid stock has tripled in size over the past few weeks; he's the reason why your friends have had to shake you out of a daze at least once everyday.

and though he carries a lethal weapon on his person at all times, and though you've seen him in action, drawing blood from the throats of many a man, he's carved out a space for himself in a corner of your heart and securely tucked himself away.

the man's grip tightens on your wrist. "are you not going to answer me?"

you blink yourself back into reality. this is why your friends tease you these days. "no, that's not it." you hurry your response. you had a plan to answer him but got so lost in your thoughts that you forgot it. now that you've remembered where you are and what it is that you want from him, you find yourself back at square one.

you trust this man with your life and from the way he acts around you, you assume he trusts you with his. he wouldn't let you tend to his wounds so often if he didn't, you remind yourself. you have to tell yourself that you trust him, you do, and you respect his decision to keep his identity a secret, but no longer can you dampen your curiosity. that, coupled with your feelings for him, have led you here.

you let your fingers brush the side of his mask. it's made of a firm plastic, you note, and it covers the entirety of his face. you can't even see the corners of his eyes like this. "you know... that i trust you, right?" you whisper.

the masked man breathes a soft chuckle. you wonder what his smile looks like. "haven't i told you that that's a bad idea already?"

he has. many times. "then why do you keep giving me reasons to?" you retort. you admit that you sound a bit childish, but in your defense, he didn't have to make good on his promise to ensure your safety during the nighttime. after your fourth meeting, he promised to watch over you whenever you headed home from work. from that day onward, you hadn't had any run-ins with muggers or shady figures. it was always only him, if and when you came across him. how could you not trust him?

"touché," he agrees, letting go of your hand. he's letting his guard down. "i've been too nice to you."

"still, i wanted to thank you," your words come out rushed and airy, and you pull yourself back a few inches for your sanity, "for keeping me safe... and alive, i guess."

there's a snicker from beneath the mask. "you guess?" he releases your wrist. "i won't reject your gratitude," he folds his arms over his chest, "but you first need to tell me why you were reaching for my mask."

you suddenly feel the confidence bleeding out of you. "i, um.. it's tied to my, uh.. gift. for you." you hate that you spent days working up the courage to be so bold with someone like him, and now all of your hard work was crumbling by the second.

but for someone with quick reflexes, he sure is slow to catch on. he tilts his head silently, encouraging you to continue. you try to drown out your apprehension with the sound of the rain pouring outside. you move closer to the man, trying to rebuild the foundations of your confidence.

"i won't ask you to take off your mask." you lean back in to where you were before, your eyes scanning the mask. you wish you had x-ray vision right about now. you can practically feel the way the man examines you up close. you wish you could see the way he's focusing on you and you alone. "not completely."

he sits up straighter. "you want to see a part of my face?" he's quiet as he seemingly thinks it over. "i don't think i can--"

"i want to kiss you." you finally blurt. your face begins to burn. "if... if you'll allow me to. if not, that's okay. i just think this would be... an adequate reward for saving my life." when he says nothing for more than thirty seconds, any and all conviction you may have had vanishes. "alright then."

but just as you start to move away, he takes your wrist in hand again, and you freeze. "where... do you plan on kissing me?"

you gawk at him, too stunned to speak. instead of replying verbally, you just tap at your own lips. was he agreeing, then? you screw up your face a bit before you chuckle, the peculiarity of his question finally settling. "where else would i kiss you?"

"fair point." he places your hand on his mask then, and nods slightly. "not my whole face." his words are a warning. you'd be remiss if you didn't pick up on that.

your throat closes up, choking you. you nod in return, not trusting your voice. you hook your fingers on the underside of the mask and your knuckles brush his chin. already, your heart is fluttering in your chest; you think it stupid, considering how you've already seen him half-undressed by this point. slowly (and without breathing), you push the mask up, revealing his lips.

the lips of another person shouldn't be so astonishing to you. everyone has them, and it's not like you were expecting him to not have any, but you most certainly weren't expecting them to be so... pretty, for lack of a better word. entranced by him, you trace his cupid's bow with your thumb, your eyes widening at how soft his lips feel against your fingertip.

his lips start to curl into what you assume is a smile. pretty, you think -- it's all you can think. pretty, pretty, pretty.

"is this how you kiss people nowadays?" his smile only grows, revealing the prettiest set of white teeth.

your brain switches on at his taunt. "you're pretty." you tell him matter-of-factly. "this is all i'll ever get to see of you, so i'm taking my time."

that shuts him up immediately. his mouth opens and closes a few times before he gives up with a sigh. "i see."

you lean closer, close enough that your lips are almost brushing his. "are you sure about this?" you ask him one final time. maybe it's just you, but you feel a sobering sense of finality. the last thing you want is for this to be the last you see of this man.

rather than answer you, he takes your face in one hand and closes what little distance there was between you two. plush lips press against your own and you gasp, obviously not expecting this. you move your lips hesitantly and he does the same, taking your breath away. the sound of your lips connecting does wonders for your heart, each one burying itself deep into your memory. you savor every bit of him that he gives you, not letting a single second pass you by.

then, he pleasantly surprises you with more. he pauses the kiss for a bit to whisper something special.

"kazuha." his voice is on the deeper side and his lips are still hovering over yours. before you can ask what that's supposed to mean, he slots his mouth over yours again. it isn't until his tongue brushes your bottom lip that you realize he just told you his name.

kazuha. kazuha, kazuha, kazuha. it plays like a broken record in your head and you whisper it like a prayer when you let him deepen the kiss. it gives your feelings -- your love -- some more meaning. he takes your every iteration and swallows it down as he licks into your mouth, returning the favor with some mutters of your name as well.

outside, the rain continues to pour, bathing you two in the moment.

✦ i... i have no words. but i realize that i have revealed that i wanna make out with kazuha, and that i have a thing for kazuha with a mask and saying his name over and over. just.. kazuha. that's it.

This broke my heart 🥺

Requested by Anon

Summary: If Nishinoya knew that this would be the last time he walked you home, maybe he would've walked slower

Type of fic: Angst

A/n: How to write something that isn't angst

Kiyoko this, volleyball that, cancelling plans because of volleyball practice, cancelling plans because his team has a bonding day.

Would it be too much to ask if you were part of his life?

When you agreed to his confession, agreed to be his, you thought he would at least make time for you.

It seems like nothings changed from when you were friends, except for fawning over Kiyoko a little less than before.

"Yuu? Did you want to go on a date later after school?" You had come all the way to his classroom to ask him, borderline beg him for some of his attention.

You supported his passion for volleyball, but a line has to be drawn somewhere, especially when he'll always apologize for the same reasons, sprinting to where you stood outside the restaurant, had been standing for hours, just to apologise and promise it would be the last time.

"Oh sorry y/n, I have practice tonight." He's grinning sheepishly, clearly aware that this isn't the first time he's cancelled on you.

Suddenly you feel everyone's eyes on you, some pitying, some filled with concealed laughter, this had been the third time this week.

"Oh." Your smile is strained as you try and look apologetic, forcing the negative feelings down so they don't show up.

But something must've shown, because Nishinoya flinches.

"You could watch practice and I'll walk you home?"

Its better than nothing you decide, and nod before heading back to your class.

There's a feeling you can't shake, and you help help but think you deserve someone better, someone who might actually give you the time of day instead of brushing you off and or giving a useless attempt at mending things back together.

The feeling only grows when you see him showing off for Kiyoko, instead of you. His partner, sitting right in the stands as he flirts with her, using sweet words he would never use with you.

His practice ends, you having spent it thinking that you deserve someone better than somebody who would forget you despite inviting you to practice.

"Yuu!" He left the gym before you, talking with Tanaka about something, having completely forgotten you.

He looks around for a second, before spotting you, face draining of colour as he realizes what he's done.

Tanaka sends you a a look of pity and tells Nishinoya he'll see him later.

Nishinoya walks up to you, hand rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"Did you want me to walk you home?"

Even though you nod 'no' a little upset with him, he still walks you home.

Its silent and the only sounds you hear is the sound of your shoes on pavement. The silence lasts all the way to your house the sound of shoes stopping as you halt right before you get to your driveway.

"Yuu, we need to talk." Your throat feels like it's filled with cotton.

He makes a sound of question and you take that as a sign to to continue.

"I just think, maybe we're better off as friends? Because whatever we're doing certainly dosent feel like dating."

He sighs and nods.

The air isn't tense or sad, it feels like normal, like nothings happened.

"I did care about you y'know?" He shrugs and his breath creates a white cloud in the winter air.

"I know, maybe it's just the wrong time."

He nods, and it feels more like a business transaction than anything until Nishinoya speaks again.

"If I had known this was going to be the last time I would've walked slower." His voice cracks and you can see his eyes welling with tears.

You reach out your hand to wipe the tears falling down his face and you sniff, trying to keep your own tears at bay.

Emotions that you had buried deep coming to surface.

"Hey, it'll be ok. We'll be ok Yuu." His name feels foreign in your mouth, were you allowed to call him Yuu as you broke his heart.

He nods and croaks out something about needing to leave, his head is bowed as he speed walks away, and you realize he only pushed you away because he was scared of getting too close.

Nishinoya tries to avoid you at school after that, too scared to look you in the eye and expose his broken heart.

It hurts when you realize it's all over

---

@iwaizoom @dakotacecily @elianetsantana @peteunderoos @jovialnoise @ryusex-wife @dai-tsukki-desu @luvyoomi @aruhappy @indecisivehusky @curiouslilbeast @kageyuji @alphabetsoupyum @dumbiebambi @dejvns @x-ia-n @itsmeaudrieee @llamakenma @hawksnumberoneuwu

*Taglist form in navigation

This is actually so cute 🥰

[tutor me?]: you’re failing math, so akaashi proposes you to get a tutor

pairings: akaashi x fem! reader

posted: january 29, 2021

warnings: it’s really short LMAO i just came up w this on the spot- also there’s cursing included in this

☆☆☆☆

with love, [kazuha]

dear: @mooscutely​

prompt : kazuha + comfort 

warnings : spoilers from archon quest if you haven’t finished, mentions of death, ayato’s hotpot 

notes : i tried ;-; im sorry if this isnt what you expected 

dearest heart,

i hope all is well in liyue. it should be autumn soon, the leaves must look beautiful this time of year, just as they did the last time we were together. though, please do remember to take your scarf along with you since it does get a little chilly.

i imagine news of the raiden shogun’s declaration has reached your shores by now. it is as they say, inazuma is now at peace; though the war was neither won nor lost. even as i write this, people still celebrate throughout the nation. the streets are rife with laughter and joy and anegimi might have had one too many bottles of sake at the victory feast on watatsumi island. by the time you receive this, we should be halfway to liyue. before we left for ritou, i managed to slip away from the reverie and ayato-dono’s questionable invitation for a celebratory hotpot to visit my old friend. he now rests well beneath the ever-glowing sunset of our land. how i wish he could see our victory, our joy and the grace of the sword art he yearned to triumph. i have bore witness to it’s ferocity, felt the bite of electricity on my sword, heard the crackle of death in my ears and some part of me now understands why he sought to defy it. for it is a badge, a recognition of your skills as a swordsman. to defy the greatest warrior in our land is to become the greatest. the fool, he was.

you must be seething by now, my dear. i can almost hear the lecture i shall receive the moment the alcor docks. fret now, love, for i am well. i doubt i would be writing you this letter at all if not for his vision reawakening in the battle of the tenshukaku. strangely enough, there is a certain tug in my chest when i think about that moment. it was as if he was there again, by my side, wielding his sword with that practiced ease and that infuriating smirk on his face. his wish has now been fulfilled and so has mine, but it feels like the day we parted all over again. we’re soon to depart from ritou and i am already counting down the hours to our fated reunion. being apart from you is more difficult than i imagined, and i know you must feel the same too. when we disembarked from liyue at the request of the divine priestess of watatsumi island, i left a piece of my heart with you. you have been, and will always be, the place i truly call home. i can only hope to be the same for you.

as much as i would like to continue my letter to you, anegimi calls for help. now that i am a free man, i hope to bring you to my nation one day, to the place i once called home. to think that i would be able to walk the streets of inazuma with you is a thought i had never dared to dream.

wait for me at the docks, i wish for your smile to be the first thing i see.

until then, my love.

- kazuha

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.

May I request a fake dating scenario with Childe? (sorry i know its cliche but its my favorite trope🙈) Perhaps he and f reader are on an undercover mission to gain intel at a function, like a dinner party or a festival of some sort, and Childe is way more interested in committing to the bit than the mission itself. Like, he intentionally took on an easy mission so that he could indulge in his time with the reader because he "takes his job seriously" or something like that😏

Fatui operative reader*

—

“You said you’d take this seriously.” You chided him, pushing for the fifth time his hand away from your hip while you looked through the crowd for your target. It should have been a rather easy mission: get close enough to the ambassador that they’ll tell you about the incoming shipment. Once you got what you needed you’d inform the other operatives waiting near the docks, they’d sneak in during the night and lift all the goods before anyone grew wise to the situation. However, after much pestering from a specific Harbinger, this simple task was turning into a headache inducing nightmare.

“I am, dear.” He ran his finger over your ear and out of your peripherals you caught sight of the calculating grin that pulled one side of his lips.

“You don’t have to pretend right now, no ones looking at us.” Pretending to rummage through your pouch, you noticed a esteemed looking figure walking through the door, someone as elegantly dressed as that must be your ambassador. “She’s here.” You whispered, nudging your chin in her direction and slipping the money pouch back in your side bag. “Let’s get closer.”

“Don’t get to hasty, let’s see what she does.” Childe moved behind you, his hand sliding over your back and making you hyper aware of each and every inch he occupied. His chest somehow so noticeable even though he never touched you with it, the proximity of him as he leaned against the wall and draped his arm over your shoulder before pulling you closer made your brain fuzzy and, for a moment, you lost sight of her. “Can you make out what she’s saying?” He spoke in a lower tone, an attempt to keep his words only for you or … was he trying to make you shiver.

Carefully, you focused your attention on her lips. Eyes squinting against the light as you tried to decipher what she was saying. The expression on her face shifted from one of familiarity to irritation, but it was so slight and quickly replaced by a smile her companion never caught it. “She’s upset.”

“Why?”

You opened your mouth to explain only to be cut off by his arm sliding off your shoulder so his hand could run down your back. The slow trail he made up and down your spine made you furious; you were trying to do your job, trying to get what you needed and to not be swayed, distracted by the pounding of your heart or the hot breaths you took while sharing the intel. “Sh-she’s asking why the shipments late.” Stopping his hand with your clenching fingers, you pushed his wrist back toward his chest and swore you heard a soft giggle at your side. Coughing, you continued. “It looks like he’s telling her it’ll be here soon.”

“Are the goods on the boat, look closely.” With a sigh, you strained your eyes to see, took in everything that you could in order to see her mouth form the shapes you needed to see.

“Yes!” You shouted a little louder than you anticipated and, because of that, the ambassadors turned toward you. You felt completely see-through under her eyes, a stab of fear shot through your heart when she looked at you, directly at you. In one fell swoop, Childe lifted you in the air and spun you around so much you lost your balance and you weren’t even using your own legs. “Ch-!”

“You said yes!! You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.” He let you slide down his chest but before you could fully grasp it all, he moved in and soon your lips were covered by his. The tight grip you had on his shoulders began to relax, your toes touched the ground but he continued to hold you; arms wrapped around your body, mouth commanding yours with lips so heavy you wondered how he exerted so much pressure onto them. When he released you, the air in your lungs came rushing in all at once while your mind did it’s best to refocus.

Things faded in slowly. Childe’s thank you’s to an applauding crowd, the drifting sound of your heart as it began to slow, the heat of your cheeks as you hid against his chest.

“She’s gone, we should follow her just in case.” He whispered into your hair, hand resting against your back while yours shook against his chest.

“You did that on purpose.”

“What makes you say that, comrade.” Lifting your eyes to see him, taking in every ounce of deviousness that radiated off his skin, you knew this partnership would be the death of you.

“Yo-you shouldn’t tease people like that.”

“Am I not allowed to tease my sweetheart? Where’s the fun in that.”

“I’m not really your sweetheart, remember.”

“Who says?” Childe ran his fingers over your ear until they found the back of your neck and you swore his intentions were clear as he leaned in for another kiss. Why was he so good at this fake dating ruse, it wasn’t fair. Your heart shouldn’t be so affected by this and yet …

“Childe …” Your eyes fluttered closed and you prepared for a kiss that never came. “Childe?”

“Expecting something, comrade? Our friends getting away.” Everything slammed back together as if he had slowly pulled you apart moments ago; how was he able to do that so easily? Frustrated, you clenched your jaw and pushed past him but when he ran after you only to slip his hand into yours it took everything you had to hold back a confused and irritated scream building in your throat while he easily let fall laughter that made your heart weak.

when he lets you wear his hat

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: dark humor (just in the beginning)

word count: 1168

a/n: i am a firm believer that scara loves dark humor yes i might be projecting but nobody can change my mind ( ˘ ³˘)♥ enjoy!

your unwavering patience is something you’ve always taken pride in. 

there have only been a few instances where you’ve lost your cool in the fleeting years of your life, always feeling a certain kind of superiority in situations where you can hold your own even if it would be reasonable to let go for a moment. 

but now, after weeks of nonstop backhanded comments and complaints from your traveling companion, it is through sheer willpower alone that you haven’t turned around and tried to bite his head off every time he opens his mouth. 

“you seriously can’t swim?” the wanderer asks from somewhere behind you. “didn’t you ever have fun as a kid?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and keep up your brisk pace while he snickers to himself like it truly is the funniest thing in the world. the unforgiving desert sun is hot against your back and the fine grains of sand that keep finding their way into your shoes feel like they’re rubbing your skin raw, leaving you sweaty and miserable. 

the one traveling with you doesn’t share these sentiments, hardly even taking notice to uncomfortable sensations anymore, and thus remains entirely unbothered, much to your annoyance. 

he almost seemed understanding at first, suggesting you take a dip in a nearby oasis to cool off before you overheat, but one insignificant mention of your swimming skills, or lack thereof, had turned into him making fun of you for it before you could even begin to regret bringing it up. 

the wanderer doesn’t relent even when you keep ignoring him. “surely it’s not because you’re afraid, right? what’s so scary about water?” 

“quit it.” you warn him sharply, gritting your teeth so hard your jaw begins to ache. of course, you’re already expecting him to do the opposite. 

“wait, don’t tell me.” he starts, jogging a bit to catch up to you. “nobody bothered to teach you? mom just too busy to make time for you?”

this has you freezing in your tracks, coming to a halt beside him, and before you can even process the thought going through your head-

“at least i actually had one.”

the silence that follows is deafening as you snap your head up to stare at him, his expression of shock mirroring your own. guilt starts twisting around in your stomach as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the joyous laughter that erupts out of your traveling companion the next second chases it away as he hunches over and cackles.  

“that was incredible,” he gasps out. 

you narrow your eyes at the sight but you can’t help the smile that starts tugging at your lips seeing him thrown into such a genuine fit of giggles, the sound melodic and tugging at your heartstrings. “why are you laughing?”

he lifts an arm to wipe the sweat off of his forehead as he starts to calm down, leaving you with a bundle of conflicting emotions tangled together in your chest. 

“i never thought you had it in you.” he explains, sounding almost… proud? there’s an undeniable glow of satisfaction on his face, and it’s only then that you realize, this entire time, his goal was to get you to play along. 

“looks like you really can teach an old dog new tricks,” the wanderer shrugs, his usual shit-eating smirk returning to his lips. 

“i- wha?” you sputter incredulously. “haven’t you been around for centuries? and you’re calling me old?”

he makes a noncommittal sort of hum as you two start walking again. a comfortable silence falls over you both, the man beside you finally silent after getting what he wanted out of you. however, the heat isn’t any less forgiving than it was moments prior so your pace inevitably slows until you’re forced to stop and lean down to rest your hands on your knees, each inhale of hot air offering absolutely no relief. 

when he realizes you stopped walking and turns around to send you an unimpressed look it’s quickly replaced by poorly masked concern that shows in the furrow of his brows and the tight line of his lips. it’s only then that he remembers the bottle he watched you pack earlier that morning. 

“drink,” he says as he reaches into your bag and pulls out a full flask of water. you grab it from him gratefully and can’t help the sigh you release at the coolness of the liquid from being inside of a metal container. 

the wanderer watches you wordlessly as you twist the cap back on and turn to put it back in your bag, and the second you look away the feeling of something being placed on your head as well as suddenly being enveloped in the shade catches you by surprise. when you whip around to meet his gaze he avoids yours and walks a few steps ahead, arms crossed and hat mysteriously missing. 

when it clicks, your jaw drops a fraction and you reach up to slide your fingers along the gold metal leaves, finding them hot to the touch from the scorching sun. 

the wanderer never lets you touch his hat. not even as his trusted companion. every time you’ve tried in the past, he’s quick to step out of your way or slap your hand back whenever he sees you going for it. there’s a sparkle of joy in your eyes when he peeks out of the corner of his to take in your reaction and scoffs when he sees the awe on your face. 

“come on, let’s keep moving.” he huffs, tone sounding irritated. 

unused to the weight of the wide hat balanced on your head, you catch up to him on wobbly feet, one hand still holding onto the rim so it won’t tip off. how the wanderer manages to jump around and run without it sliding everywhere is beyond you, because it feels like it could fall off at any moment. 

this does not go unnoticed to the man next to you, but you’re too busy trying to stand straight and walk without tilting too much, so you’re not prepared for the gust of wind he flicks at you that tips the hat up and off, saved from falling to the ground only by his hand that shoots out to grab it and put it back the way it was before. 

“hey!” you pout indignantly, sending him a look of annoyance. when your meet eyes meet his, his vibrant indigo irises are swimming with mirthful contentment, and a small smile rests easily on his face. it’s not an expression you get see on him that often, but like always, it causes pitiful flutters in your chest. 

your frown softens despite yourself and you avert your gaze to the horizon where the sun hangs high in the sky, feeling thankful that you can just blame the flush staining your cheeks on the heat if he points it out. 

what a truly insufferable travel companion you have. 

[ 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.