I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So beautiful yet So Unaware Of It

Burning for You

a/n | BASED ON GENSHIN 3.0 LEAKS!⚠️ …okay, so i have a confession. two things… one, i believe in love at first sight. and two, i am hopelessly in love with tighnari. <3 wrote this in a few hours high off of my new fav dendro main so i hope it’s okay! (art credits: u/murasakisumire on reddit)

warnings | character leaks, slight profanity, probably ooc tighnari but i’m having fun with it anyway :)

genre | fluff, smug tighnari likes to tease you

word count | 1.1k

pairing | tighnari x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In the humid wilderness of Sumeru’s lush rainforests, there was no room for error as a forest ranger. It was a matter of life or death—eat or be eaten.

The vast majority of the rainforest was relatively untouched by civilization and teeming with vibrant creatures of all shapes, sizes, and abilities. As a ranger, you were expected to be an expert in animal and vegetation identification, and able to sense danger through disturbances in the surrounding ecosystem.

You had been reminded of this requirement on numerous occasions by your superior, yet somehow you defied all natural laws with how you constantly attracted trouble. Sometimes it’s a simple, easily avoidable mistake on your part, but other times it turned into a horde of enemies charging in your direction with no obvious escape in sight.

As a result, you were assigned under the direct supervision of the Lead Forest Ranger, Tighnari, for special training. But it wasn’t your fault you magically invited danger everywhere you went. At first, you were quite intimidated by the long-eared ranger. You knew he was the best of the best, so the stakes were high. If you messed this up, maybe you really were hopeless.

Expeditions were extremely silent and awkward with your new companion. After a while of suffering from solitude, you had tried to get to know him more, but it proved to be difficult.

“Hey, ‘Nari,” you would inquire softly as he was focused on referencing an encyclopedia from his pack.

An ear would twitch accompanied by a nearly indiscernible hum, eyes not breaking from his work once. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Um, do you ever take a break?” you sheepishly asked, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. He raised a brow, promptly closing his book, and touched his chin in thought. Worried you had offended him, you continued, “L-like do you do anything for fun?”

“This is fun, is it not?” Tighnari replied nonchalantly. “I love my work.”

It was true. All Tighnari would ever discuss with you was about Dawson Rainforest. Such was the extent of any line of questioning you could think of. You could rarely ever get a reaction out of him, not that you wanted to tease him—well, maybe you wouldn’t mind to see the quiet and clever Tighnari devolve into a stuttering, blushing mess at least once.

But that is beside the point. You felt ignored and lonely. Breaking the ice was useless. You were going to have to be a lot more forward if you wanted to get Tighnari’s attention.

Which ultimately led you to this moment months later, as you snap out of your thoughts staring at the burning embers rising from the campfire. You like to think your relationship had improved or you understood each other better since then. At the very least, your skills were improving and working with him in a team wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

You both had set up camp together less than an hour ago after completing your duties since you were too far from the main base to lodge for the night. Tighnari had just set his ranger journal aside, pale green eyes locked onto you.

A strange rush of heat spread across your cheeks in embarrassment. You prayed to the Archons it wasn’t noticeable. Had he said something and you completely missed it? Why is he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say since he still scarcely gives you the time of day, “What?”

Perfect. You were such a great conversationalist, you reprimanded yourself silently.

“You were lost in thought,” he observed, lips pursing slightly in disappointment. “I… apologize if I have come across as rude in the past.”

“No!” you insisted, shaking your head frantically and laughing it off. “That’s not why at all. Don’t worry about it. Just feeling bored I guess?”

“You must always remain vigilant. As you can tell, none of the wildlife here seem bored in all their clamoring even in the darkness of night,” Tighnari notes out of habit, but he pauses for a second before shaking his head too and scooting next to you. “But we aren’t on a mission so I suppose I may entertain your antics this time.”

Did the flame of the fire suddenly grow hotter? Your cheeks flushed with another intense wave of heat when Tighnari grew near, surely it wasn’t your Pyro vision acting up. Then again, every time the lead ranger draws close, you swear you can feel the fiery pulse of your vision on your chest. Or was that your heart leaping?

His bright jade eyes flickered knowingly from your vision to meet your skeptical gaze, a playful, smug smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you enjoy this, ‘Nari? Making me—!” you accused in shock, words abruptly trailing off as you find yourself nearly admitting your embarrassment. “Argh. This is what you actually do for fun, isn’t it?”

“Me? I could never partake in such fruitless endeavors,” he responded with an innocent wave of his bushy raven tail, rotten mischief dripping from each word on his tongue.

“Oh, but the excitement is just radiating from you, go ahead. I’m ready to hear the great Tighnari speak to me finally,” you retorted sarcastically in a huff.

“I would be more inclined to say it’s written all over you, (Y/N),” his voice lowers as he leans in ever so slightly, tall ears towering over you in an almost intimidating manner. “I’m… not as oblivious as you may think.”

Fuck, the fennec fox never cared to talk to you and the minute he opens his mouth it was your downfall. Your breath hitched subconsciously, the only confirmation Tighnari needed, a sharp-toothed smirk adorning his smug expression. You hated it.

You had quickly learned long ago he had a penchant for teasing and trickery, and you always walked right into his traps. After all this time pushing you away and reeling you back in at will with his wit, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You were utterly touch-starved and Tighnari reveled in it, lightly grazing the back of his fingers against your hot cheek.

His pearlescent irises glimmered and marveled at you—a predator helplessly enamored with his prey.

“This isn’t fair, ‘Nari,” you whispered, lidded eyes watching with longing as he slowly inches further toward you. The instinct to pull away crosses your mind, just to deny him the victory, but how could you when the promise of his lips was so imminent?

He brushed his nose against yours gently in a loving nuzzle, whispering onto your lips, “Neither is this burning in my heart for you now, is it?”

Tighnari could hardly restrain himself any longer, drinking in your scent like this so intimately, inevitably succumbing to your sweet lips in a passionate display of desire. When he held your cheek or trailed his hand down to your waist, you felt that familiar burst of your Pyro vision glowing alongside his Dendro one—his touch consuming you with an aching need for more.

You almost considered caressing his long ears when he nibbled at your bottom lip, until he broke the kiss with a soft smile and couldn’t resist indulging in your addicting taste once more.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

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

synopsis. shy akaashi and a lot of making out

pairing. akaashi x gender neutral! reader

genre. established relationship, fluff

warning. this is making out and grinding so it’s kind of suggestive! nsfw(?), it doesn’t go any further but it’s implied :]

akaashi is so kissable.

with the red tint on his cheeks, and the way his hair is looking so disheveled. with his shy smile, and the way his fingers are buried into the dip of your hips. you’d give anything to continue pressing your lips into his for the entirety of your life.

and if not for the rest of your life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up - and while akaashi’s roommate is very much not in their dorm yet.

your mouths are still parted, from the slow and shy kissing that had taken place mere seconds ago. you think it also might be because you can no longer control your breath, evident in your heavy exhales as akaashi moves to caress your bare skin under your shirt.

you wonder how he does it, keeping his breath for that long in comparison to you who’s so very clearly trying to recompose yourself. you think it might be because he’s an athlete — it’s most definitely because he is, and you don’t complain.

he’s patient, lips moving to whisper sweet words of ‘i love you’ and ‘i want to spend my whole life with you’, and the way he’s looking at you with his doe eyes is enough to send you back into his lips.

he doesn’t mind, almost immediately returning it with the same amount of passion, and yet the same shyness.

akaashi keiji, your damn kissable boyfriend, still gets shy around you.

“my pretty baby.” he’s unrestrained with his words. he’s like that when you manage to catch him deep into his feelings, which happens more often than not.

“you make me so happy.” and it’s so hard not to strip him off his clothes when quiet groans and whines are leaving his lips from the simple gesture of you shifting on his lap.

he thinks he’s a goner when you pull at the tips of his hair, and especially when you’re shyly rolling your hips against his. and he doesn’t remember how your shirt’s discarded by the end of his bed, but he’s got a slight clue it might’ve happened when you moaned into his lips the moment he bucked his hips up to match with your pace.

on most days, he’d be embarrassed by how quick he got hard when he pulled you on his lap, but he’s too distracted by the way you’re trailing kisses down his neck to even think about it. he didn’t know you were so talented with your mouth, the same way you’ve praised his fingers before.

“darling, you’re so good to me.” his eyes are shut close, and he’s squeezing your hips to slow down your movements because he’s afraid he might come already, because he doesn’t want to quite yet. he wants the moment to go on longer, nevermind the fact that his face is beet red and he’s desperately tugging you even closer than you already were.

“love it when you do that.” he enjoys the way you tug at his hair, or the way you’re biting down on his neck, or the way you’re guiding his hands to rest on your ass. but he doesn’t allow himself to have all the fun so he hooks your chin with his fingers to bring your face in front of his.

and you could’ve sworn you saw the slight hint of mischief in his gaze before he’s nipping at your neck, tongue running over the visible marks that are forming.

“wanna return the favor, my love.”

akaashi keiji is kissable. he’s always so meticulous with his mouth, and he knows just how to use them.

note. this is all i’ll ever think about 😄

what did they say about longing? about the yearning that grips your ribcage when you stretch your arms out in bed only for your fingers to brush against the cold pillow next to you? i miss you is the one thing that echoes like a broken harp in your head, the words plastered around every corner of your brain until you see them in the walls of your home and the insides of your wrist.

oh, my dear kazuha, am i missing from you in the same sense that you are missing from me? you glance at your study desk in the corner of your bedroom, the deep mahogany wood propping up piles and piles of messily written, unsent letters. they’re addressed to the same person—the only person you’d ever bother writing a letter to—but with no destination written on the front. it’s not as though the mail man would understand where exactly to send this letter to if all you wrote on the envelope was, ‘to the wandering samurai’.

but it wasn’t kazuha’s fault for needing to answer the call of the winds, just as it wasn’t yours for needing to know how fast your heart could race with your lips on his. you initiated the love affair fully aware that your arms could never anchor him to you and though you claimed to be ready to accept whatever consequences came with it, you didn’t think the longing would be this excruciating.

Keep reading

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."

; yours

# childe x gn!reader

# cw: slightly? very?? suggestive, mildly nsfw ig, no smut tho, fluff, messy kisses and hickies and spoilers for childe’s real name :3

# note: thank u to @hawq-s for encouraging my horniness lmao, this is my first time posting something as suggestive as this, i for one do not know how to place hickies this is entirely from my knowledge from reading :’)

synopsis — childe asks you to give him hickies, but you don’t know how. fortunately childe is very willing to teach you.

you were washing the dishes just after dinner when childe came up from behind you, his hands slipping around your waist. you glance back at him and frown when you see him pouting at you.

“what’s up with you?” you ask, looking back at the dishes you’re washing.

he pouts some more and huffs out “give me a hickey, babe.”

the glass you’re rinsing almost slips from your fingers, you take a breath and put the glass down and turn to him. he pulls back slightly, his hands slipping down to your hips. “what?” you’re proud of yourself from holding back a stutter.

but childe has always been able to read you like an open book, he grins. “c’mon, gimme a hickey, pretty one.”

you avoid his gaze and look past him, this time when you answer him, you faill to answer smoothly. “i… i don’t know how, childe.”

you see him blink and you swallow, then he’s grinning wider, one full of teeth and you’re sure you saw his eyes glint.

“aw, that’s too bad.”

and then he’s leaning closer, his breathe tickling your face. “then, how about i teach you?”

Keep reading

【 𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 】 Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst TW: depressed reader Words: 2k

Summary: When you’re at your lowest point and you have no energy to do anything at all, he’s there, right by your side, picking you up and never letting go as promised

Author’s note: I’ve been struggling with depression for a long time and those who suffer as well know there are times when it’s heavier than usual. Lately is one of those times. Akira’s a big comfort character of mine and suffering from what is mentioned in the oneshot, I started having these daydreams to try and ease my thoughts. Since writing helps me, I chose to put it into a scenario and perhaps someone who is reading this feels similar to how I feel and can find comfort within these words. Take care of yourself.

If you guys enjoy my work and would like to support my work further, consider supporting me through ko-fi. This is totally optional and does not affect the amount of requests I work on or anything regarding my pieces. Thank you for reading my work regardless and I hope you continue enjoying it!

The ticking of the clock above your door, usually comforting and lulling you to sleep with its steady rhythm, seemed to be mocking you, making you realize how agonizingly slow time could pass one second and then run past you within the other, all the while you contributed nothing to your life. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut as you pulled the pillow you were hugging further to your chest in hopes of comforting you. Yet, what it couldn’t drown out was the howling wind against the window next to your bed that only enhanced your restless thoughts further as if they were trying to run faster than the storm outside, your own storm not wanting to lose against it. You froze as a warm hand sneaked around your hip, trying to pull your back to his chest in his sleeping state. Carefully, as if not to disturb him, you tried to sneak out of the somewhat half embrace. It wasn’t that you wanted space nor that you didn’t enjoy his warm touch; in fact you desperately needed it if you’d admit it to yourself. It was more the fact that you knew just a few seconds longer feeling his breath against your cheek you would break down, tears spilling over your cheeks as you cried into your pillow. Akira was a light-sleeper, waking up at the slightest of noises or movement. Either he was gonna wake up when you tried muffling your cries or when you tried to scoot away from him.

Keep reading

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?

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.

☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: hallway

☾ warnings: f!reader, alcohol mention, drug mention, sfw shirtlessness

☾ word count: 2.4k

Keep reading