01. COME BACK TO ME… ALiVE.

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.

Reading with Akaashi - 5:45pm

Pairing: Akaashi x reader

Type of fic: Domestic fluff

Warnings: None

You’re laying on Akaashi’s lap as he reads aloud, his voice smoothly going over the punctuation and flow of the story.

He takes short breaks at the end of each chapter just to watch you, eyes closed small smile never leaving your face.

Akaashi isn’t completely sure if you’re asleep, but his reading seems to be putting you in a good mood, so he continues.

The house is slightly chilly and the sun is starting to set, filling the house with a golden light that illuminates his skin and creates a glare that makes it hard to see his gunmetal blue eyes through his wire glasses.

He’s also good at holding the book in one hand for the most part, his other hand buried in your hair, petting and massaging any tension away, occasionally stopping so he can flip the page.

He does the character’s voices well, and you can tell when he particularly likes a character by the lilt in his voice and smile as he speaks.

This week’s book was The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe a book you’ve both read before, but it’s one of Akaashi’s favourites, and he tells it slightly different each time.

His voice lulls you to a point in consciousness where all you hear is his voice and it takes everything in you to not fall asleep, but after this week you were tired and let sleep wash over you like a blanket.

The last thing you heard was Akaashi voicing the narrator, his voice slightly deeper than usual; “ People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at same time…”

When you wake up, Akaashi is asleep, head leaned back against the couch and hand still and tangled in your hair. His glasses still on, but slipped down his nose to where it looks like they might fall.

Carefully watching him, you grab his calloused hand, warm and large compared to yours, and kiss it. Stirring him awake.

“You fell asleep during chapter 11” he groaned, stretching his neck out.

“Did you finish it, Keiji?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his face.

“I always do.” He smiles and leans over to kiss you, sighing into the kiss.

“The suns set now.” You gesture to the dark room around you, wanting to get up, but Akaashi holds your hips in his hands.

“A little longer in the dark.”

“Sounds good to me.”

—

Permanent Taglist:

@sachirou-senpai

(To be on the permanent Taglist or just for a certain anime or character please send an ask or dm!)

a bolt from the blue | royalty au

✦ kazuha. scaramouche. kaeya. x gn!reader

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

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

kazuha *. ⋆ breaking free

"are you lost, your highness?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"that's more than enough time."

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

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

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

scaramouche *. ⋆ an accidental misstep

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

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

it's heavy. suffocating. prying.

you should never have come here.

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

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

you would, most undoubtedly, fail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kaeya *. ⋆ an unlikely twist of fate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck it all, you mutter under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are you in need of assistance?"

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

"keep your voice down!" you worriedly exclaimed.

"you'll have to jump."

"that's a ludicrous idea!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this will be very interesting.

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

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

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

hello!! how have you being?? well I saw this video ( https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSGs2ona/ ) on my fyp page and I though that this will be actually cute and perfect with akaashi!! So, May I ask some hc or one shot in which the reader do this with akaashi? Can be however you want to. :D

in my kaashi feels rn because when am i not. i have never felt more in love with a fictional character omfg

i hope you like this!! i made it a lot more dramatic than the tiktok im sorry 

━ the wind feels as in love as you are as it twirls past the two of you, brushing through your lover’s hair ever so sweetly. he’s a dream before your eyes as he guides the way through broken branches and fallen leaves, his hand delicate in yours. there’s no noise overwhelming you, just the silent crushing of dead leaves beneath your heavy feet and the wind as it twists around your frames. there exists no end and no beginning to the woods you’re losing yourself in, but you’ve never felt more at home as his fingers lock with yours.

he turns, an easy smile on his lips, and his eyes shine as he strengthens his hold on your hand, before pulling you forward. you rush towards him, into his awaiting arms, and suddenly you’re dancing and swaying with the trees as your audience. they stand over you as guardians, and as akaashi tips you back, as you lean into his embrace and stare up at the sky, you smile up at the bare branches in gratitude. 

his light laughter rings clear through the empty forest, and you sigh dreamily with your face turned away from his, before he twirls you back around. his hand finds its way to your waist, and your own settles on his shoulder, the other enclasped in his hand. the two of you rock from side to side, a little too dramatically, a little too theatrically, but this is the widest you’ve seen him smile, he’s baring all of himself to you like this, and his heart glows, evident in the shine of his eyes as he beams down at you. 

“ever the romantic you are, akaashi keiji,” you tease, but you don’t falter in your step when he lifts his arm up, yours with it, guiding you into a twirl before you rest back safely in his arms. 

“only for you,” he admits wholeheartedly, and you believe him as he spins you away. you let yourself laugh freely, skipping over a branch before running back over to him. “come here,” he says by your ear, and you hum, pulling yourself closer to him. your arms snake around his neck, and you lift yourself up nearer to him, to his pretty lips, and his pretty eyes, and pretty, soft skin. his arms are steady around your waist, encouraging you to lean up higher until you’re a breath away from kissing him. 

“i’m afraid i have to admit that i,” you start, your lips teasingly hovering over his, and he breathes you in, watching as you eye him carefully, before continuing, “am hopelessly in love with you.”

he hums appreciatively, and his fingers dig deeper into your waist, holding you to him, ensuring to him that you are real, and you are his, and you are in love with him. and then he kisses you, and there’s a weight on your chest, a breathtaking weight, but one that’s oddly pleasurable, one that you find comfort in as he presses his lips to yours, and kisses you deeper and deeper and deeper until he says, “i am,” a sigh, a hum, another deep kiss, “hopelessly in love with you, too.” 

end note; nobody touch me akaash keiji isn’t real im SAD

omg 🥺 this broke my heart

square ; akaashi keiji

warnings implied cheating

genre angst, fwbs

word count 0.6k

inspiration square, mitski + wonder what she thinks of me, chole x halle

synopsis you never were going to be able to fit in the structure of akaashi’s life, no matter how much he wanted you to

author’s note this certainly hurt 😁 but this is an old draft ‘cause i’m still in a slump :/

You heaved out a sigh as Akaashi rolled off of you. Immediately he covered you up with newly pressed sheets. Your head lying on his matching pillowcase. Together, you stared at his plain ceiling, like always. There was no creases, no dents, no marks.

Nothing.

Akaashi was the first to shift around, opting to having his back face you as he checked his phone. Like always. You spared him a quick glance before following suit. Nearly wincing when you were met with a nicely framed picture of him and her.

The one this side of the bed rightfully belonged to.

Swallowing your guilt, you let your eyes drift. Akaashi’s room was clean, like always. His wall art were even, his desk area was neat, his closer was even neater. Everything was orderly. Everything had a place. Then there was you,

It wasn’t like it was your first time picking up on this. You made note of this the first time you stumbled into Akaashi’s room. Messily making out with him amongst his spotless room. Even with your head in the clouds you knew then that you didn’t fit.

How could you when the spot you wanted was already taken? There’s never really any room for someone who’s usually just a late night call. No room for someone who’s just supposed to fill a space temporarily.

But for some reason Akaashi kept you around. Maybe it was because you both were— and still are good friends. He tried to make space for you. Yet, in the end you knew it would never work.

“Hey,” almost on cue, Akaashi called out for you. You didn’t look at him, bringing your attention back to the nightstand that belonged to her.

“Are you alright?” The bed shook slightly when Akaashi turned on his other side. You nodded. She was so pretty, and so sweet. So talented, so smart, so… perfect. Why would Akaashi want to sacrifice this perfect fit in his life to have something with you?

He sighed, the air meeting your back. Following was the pressing of his chest as he reached over you to lay down the frame. You frowned.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her, ‘kay?” Akaashi draped his arm over you, his lips meeting your neck.

You gulped. You couldn’t take this anymore, you couldn’t take being a burden. The words hurt you more to say than Akaashi to hear, “We can’t do this anymore. I, can’t do this anymore…”

You could feel air get caught in Akaashi’s throat. “What do you mean?” He knew what you meant, obviously.

His arm fell from your body as you sat up. “I don’t fit here, Akaashi. I should just go.” Your eyes started searching for you clothes that were thrown and scattered across his flawless carpet. No spots, no trash, nothing.

Akaashi sat up with you, a look of confusion twisted on his face. “What does that even mean, ___?”

You bit your tongue and proceeded to climb out of his bed. Taking your clothes into your hands and shuffling them on.

“___, I want you to stay.” Painfully, those words made your heart skip a beat. Of course, you had to fall for Akaashi and his routine. Even if it didn’t make anything special of you.

You inhaled deeply, slipping into your shoes. “Just— keep things strong with her, okay? You guys are meant to be. You’re a really good guy, sorry for causing so much trouble.” The last sentence was muttered while you made your way to Akaashi’s bedroom door.

You heard him shuffle on his own clothes, exclaiming a wait at you. But you were already out the door.

Silently, you said goodbye to Akaashi and his perfectly square room. Where there was no longer any confusion, any intrusion, and no you.

Overdue

prompt:  I know I’m running late – I’m sorry. Things haven’t worked out the way I planned. But believe me when I tell you I am on my way.

- A Postcard by Lang Leav

pairing: atsumu x reader (ft. osamu)

general taglist: @graykageyama

Being the older brother, even if by mere minutes, Atsumu always felt that he had to look out for his sibling. After all, his mother instilled into him that no matter what, he should always be there for Osamu and vice versa. On many occasions Atsumu took that to mean that he could take his stuff, as long as he returns it (which he never does), because after all, they’re brothers.

On other occasions, it meant that Atsumu had to learn to be the first to set his pride aside. He reasons its because he’s the older brother, but Osamu knows that Atsumu is just too clingy to stay mad at his brother for a long time.

But there were many times, many days, many fleeting moments where taking care of his younger twin made him think “I wish I didn’t have a brother.”. Yet, the moment something happens to Osamu, he’s quick to act as the third parent.

Keep reading

breathe.

⇝ kazuha x gn!reader

⇝ hurt/comfort.

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

kazuha understands. he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

" ... kazuha. "

" hmmmm ... "

" kazuha .. "

" i know, angel. "

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

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

this is too hot i-

Snare

Keiji Akaashi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

WC: 3k

TW: Exhibitionism, Degradation, Teasing, Begging, Bratty Reader, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Spanking, Asphyxiation, Mirror Fucking, Jealousy

A/N: This is my (extremely late) secret santa gift for @deathcab4daddy. Forever sorry that it took me this long to finish, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect; hope you enjoy it love! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Irritation is not an emotion Keiji feels often. Trying as you are, he prides himself on keeping a level head and soft tone, only ever offering the truth with a smile. It’s only right, considering how much experience he’s had dealing with explosive personalities.

Tonight, he can feel himself slipping.

It’s not that you’re being explicitly difficult; hell, you’ve been nothing short of an angel all day. From the breakfast you served him in bed to the time you spent lounging and simply enjoying each other’s presences, it seemed like Kuroo’s Christmas party was bound to be the icing on the cake to a perfect day. And when he watched you glide out in a short, velvety dress—all long, lustrous legs and bare shoulders—Keiji was positive nothing could ruin his mood.

“Yeah, ‘Kaashi was so plastered he face-planted in front of his date,” Bokuto’s deep baritone rings out amongst the throngs of guests, “and to make it worse, he puked all over her dress!”

“Kōtarō, please,” you let out a giggle dipped in one too many glasses of champagne, manicured fingers grazing his larger friend’s bicep and lingering just a second too long for Keiji’s liking. He knows that his friend’s story is all in good fun, that your gesture is innocent, that the casual word, ‘please,’ is nothing compared to the strings of prayers and curses alike that he has you sobbing beneath the sheets most nights.

So he remains silent, hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring with furrowed brows and a permanent scowl. Is it just him or did Bokuto actually flex when you touched his arm? Every time his eyes glance towards yours, Keiji can’t help but grit his teeth harder. Perhaps he’s just overreacting, turning nothing into something for the sake of his frail ego.

Maybe he’s the one being difficult.

But the night continues this way for far too long—Bokuto landing joke after joke, you chuckling along, and Keiji downing glass after glass of champagne and still feeling painfully sober.

When a careless quip about his stamina, or lack thereof, is thrown out, Keiji decides he’s had enough. He offers his clueless best friend a polite excuse, threads his fingers around your dainty wrist, and tugs you into a far hall of the looming house. It doesn’t matter that his body sways with every step or that the words muttered beneath his breath are slurred; his only concern is pulling you away, reclaiming your precious attention, and losing his cool in the privacy of a shadowy corner where no one will take notice.

“What the fuck was that?” Despite being well-past inebriated and teetering on plastered, Keiji thinks he’s doing a stellar job at keeping his voice even and reserved. A quick glance at your raised brows tells him otherwise.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” you run your fingers down the miniskirt of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles that don’t exist. He’d think it’s a tell—a trick to steady wavering, guilty hands—but your stare doesn’t shift from his own. “You haven’t said a word all night.”

Firm as you’re trying to be, your voice is still twinged in confusion, the words tumbling from your lips a soft whine of annoyance. It’s nothing Keiji’s not used to, but tonight it seems the alcohol is speaking.

“And? You’re too busy drooling over ‘Kōtarō’ to care.” With that blunt retort, he feels a bit more himself. A version seething with envy, but still, himself.

The impact is swift, a worried bite at your lip flitting into a slow, knowing smile. Keiji can read you like a book, but what the hell is there to be smiling about when he’s deathly serious?

“Keiji,” your lithe fingers trail at his crisp collar, causing him to sink further against the wall, “are you jealous?”

“No.” Yes.

He can feel his head clouding over, the weight of all the downed champagne bubbling up with every stroke of your hands across his chest. The privacy of the empty hallway now seems uncomfortable, far more cramped than the bodies crowded into Kuroo’s large living room.

“You’ve been around me too long,” you giggle, teasing, “I see you pouting, babe.” It’s clear you’re trying to rectify the situation by poking fun, but Keiji doesn’t budge, doesn’t want to budge; not that easily, anyways.

His lack of compliance only makes you laugh harder, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him even as he tries to shake you off. “We were talking about you the entire time, drama queen.”

He catches himself before he can crack a smile; at this point, he’s in too deep to simply kiss and make up. Though if you continue to carelessly splay your body against his, that plan may quickly slip out of reach. Every brush of your breasts against his bicep or warm hands roaming his body reminds him why he typically stays sober at these functions. A tipsy girlfriend makes for a loss of inhibitions—and a complete lack of self-awareness.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“Huh?” He watches as your face contorts, confusion etched onto your soft features once again. It’s adorable, almost allows him to forget you’ve been trying his last nerve all night. Almost.

“You– ugh.” Instead of arguing, Keiji twists your bodies, caging you in against the wall. His hands roam your bare thighs, kneading and pressing at the supple skin and reveling in the heat that seems to pull his fingertips closer. His lips ghost over your collarbone, your neck, your jaw, never quite making contact even as you shift to allow him access.

A smile spreads across his face when he hears you mewl softly, fed up with his groping. “I can see you pouting, babe,” he speaks between grazes, licking the shell of your ear, “but you did this to yourself.”

“Keiji, we’re in public,” trembling hands push at his chest, a half-hearted attempt at maintaining respectability. Well, it’s too late for that.

“Yeah? What about when you were all over Bokuto?” He skims a finger across the hem of your dress—smooth red velvet sending shivers down his spine—before tugging it up. The article’s so skimpy, he doesn’t even have to, but the way your eyes widen is worth it. “What about when you were all over me, just a minute ago? Were you not in public then?”

“That- that was all innocent,” you whisper hurriedly, voice jittery as your brows furrow. He runs his finger across your panties, an action that makes you keen and him snicker. He doesn’t let up, simply because he can’t contain his excitement any longer; the lace is absolutely drenched.

“That’s why you’re fucking soaked right now, huh.” Keiji’s words are surprising, even to himself; though blunt, he’s not typically so vulgar. But they work wonders on the both of you.

He feels your lower half twitch towards him, hands reaching out to steady yourself against his shoulders. All the while, your eyes are lidded, glazed over in– lust? inebriation? Whatever the reason, it does it for him. He feels his dick harden beneath his slacks, strains it against your thigh so you can feel how painfully frustrated he is with you, for you. “Anything to say for yourself?”

At that, you seem to regain your bearings, hands settling more firmly on his shoulders. When you look him in the eyes, Keiji can practically see the jest—the disobedience—dancing across your irises. Your lips quirk into a devilish smirk and out tumbles the word he had been waiting on,

“Nope.”

And there’s the brat he knows, coming out to play your favorite game of cat and mouse. You want to make him work for it, desire nothing more than to be treated like the whore you are until you’re crying and begging for him. He knows the game well, of course.

But this time, he’s got something different in mind.

The sheer disappointment on your face when Keiji untangles himself from you is enough to make him cackle. As he turns away, he offers little explanation in the form of a shrug and a devious smile.

“Heard Kuroo’s making a speech,” he throws over his shoulder, “we should probably head back.” He doesn’t even have to check to know you’re pouting.

As the night continues, he knows he’s got you precisely where he wants you. An ‘accidental’ graze of his arm on yours makes you shiver, the hand glued to your lower back has you keening into him, every charged gaze into your eyes and sharp flash of pearly canines results in a lip bite and clenched thighs. But still, he makes no move towards you.

Because this time, the mouse is going to come to the cat—hand delivered with a shiny red bow to boot.

“All in all, I’m just glad I could have my closest friends around for the holidays,” Kuroo raises a glass to the small crowd, “Merry Christmas!”

Keiji raises his glass with the rest of them, the same one he’s been carrying around for the past hour; sobriety is necessary for what’s to come. When you raise yours, he shifts his fingers to massage slow circles into the back of your thigh.

A gasp, shattered glass, and dozens of eyes trained on you.

It wasn’t his intended reaction, but it works at riling you up nonetheless. Soon, you’re apologizing for your clumsiness, glare unwavering from Keiji’s own amused smile even as you whisk him away to the bathroom ‘to clean up’.

“Keiji,” you stress, arms crossed against your chest, while he’s kneeling beneath you rubbing at the tiny stain.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare ruin the little trick he’s mastered: feigned indifference.

“Keijiii.” This time it’s a whine, high-pitched and drawn out in the hopes that it’ll sway him. When he finally glances up towards you, he can practically taste the desperation threaded through your face. Your hands grab at his jaw, ghosting a thumb across his cheekbone as you finally, finally break, “Need you.”

But it’s not enough for him.

“Is that any way to ask?” He snickers, you let out a huff of frustration, and the game goes on.

“We’re in a tiny bathroom at your friend’s Christmas party. I’m not gonna sit here and beg–”

He turns his head, making a move to leave, “Oh, the stain’s gone. We should probably head ba–”

“No, no– wait!” Your palms grab at his face again, frenzied and forlorn, slightly sticky and sickly sweet, reminiscent of the bubbly champagne still surging through your bodies. “Just fuck me already.” It’s spoken hardly above a whisper, laced with urgency.

“Vulgar, but not quite,” Keiji teases, but he finds his hands already on you, drifting over the smooth skin of your calves, your thighs, and toying at the soft, velvet hem of your dress once again.

“Please.” That earns you a few kisses to your inner thighs, to which your legs party readily. Needy slut. He can hardly wait himself, wants to pounce on you and be done, but the wait is worth it.

“Please what?” He speaks between nips and licks at your thighs, traveling closer and closer to heaven, but never touching you where you both need it most.

“Please daddy, fuck me.”

And finally, Keiji complies.

The bathroom is cramped, filled with heat and fervor and two bodies haphazardly grabbing and groping anywhere they can get their hands on. He lifts you onto the sink, lips clashing to yours passionately; your fingers weave through his hair, shooting sparks down his spine.

Every touch is a plea for more, an insatiable craving to meld your bodies into one. He fumbles with your dress’s zipper before deciding it’s a hopeless endeavor, choosing instead to tug the bodice down and hem up to expose you.

When he pulls his lips from yours, a string of saliva still connects you. He gives you a once over and– fuck. You—with your lidded eyes glazed over, lips puffy, breasts strained against his chest—are enough to drive Keiji mad.

In seconds, his fingers are at your cunt and his lips at your neck. He shifts your panties to the side and slides two digits into you easily, reveling in the heat that envelops him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp sharply, a pretty little noise that he wants, needs, to hear again and again. With each thrust, it’s as though your cunt molds to his fingers, pulls him in and aches for more. His thumb at your clit makes you twitch and bite at his shoulder, and all the while, Keiji grinds his throbbing cock against your leg.

But it’s not about him, not yet. Right now, he wants nothing more than to see you fall apart, to cling to him and chant his name like a prayer—trembling and begging for more.

His free hand flits to your jaw, pressing your mouth open. And like the good little whore he knows you are, your tongue rolls right out. Keiji’s enraptured by the spit that hits it, offers you a rough grunt of ‘hold it,’ while he continues to pump and curl his fingers into you.

You’re nearing the edge; he can feel it in the way you clutch at his shirt, in your furrowed brows and quivering thighs. It only makes him move faster, resolute in making you see stars.

“Cum for me.” It’s a demand more than a request—one that he knows you’ll fulfill with devotion.

And you do. One press against that spot Keiji knows good and well, and your body stills, muscles straining and a choked mewl leaving you with a shudder. He works you through it, biting at your neck and soothing over the pain with his tongue.

“Turn over.” You may be worn out, body still quivering against his, but Keiji’s not quite done with you yet.

He unzips his pants in a flash, pulls his cock out in half that time. Rubbing against your slit, his entire body shudders with need. “So messy,” he can’t help but groan, hands secured to your waist. It only makes you hump back against him, wiggling any way you can to get him inside of you.

Back and forth, he runs his member across your slick, spreading it all over him—though he doubts he’ll need the extra lubrication. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

“Please Keiji,” a stinging slap to your ass, “Please daddy, I need you. Need you so fucking bad.” Your hands are flush against the counter, gripping the sides with enough force to turn your knuckles white. Keiji thinks he likes you best like this, wanton and breathless, splayed out for him like a common whore where anyone could see you. It suits you, he thinks.

He sinks into you hard and fast, basking in the warmth of your cunt— the way it pulsates and stretches around him. No matter how hard you try to keep quiet, your moans quickly escalate from soft, whiny whimpers to full-blown mewls. Keiji quickly reaches to shove a finger into your mouth, then two, pressing down hard on your tongue until you gag and sputter around them.

“That’s it, baby,” his free hand tangles through your locks, yanking so that your face meets the mirror. “Take a look at yourself.”

“Mmph.” Whatever you’re trying to get out is hazy, turned into mindless babble as you pant and squirm beneath him. Even as you try to keep your eyes trained on your reflection, every thrust makes your eyes roll back, a movement that prompts Keiji to tug harder on your hair.

“I said,” another harsh snap of his hips against your ass, “look.” Despite his attempt to gag you, a delirious, high-pitched moan is ripped from your throat. He removes his fingers from your mouth, only to smear spit-soaked fingers across your plump lips. Sloppy, just how he likes you.

Keiji begins to lose himself in you; it doesn’t matter that your voices are escalating, that your hands hit the wall with a resounding thunk every time he pounds into you, or that the two of you have been gone for far too long to blame on a stain. His only concern is the fluttering of your soft cunt around him and your inevitable releases.

“M’close,” you murmur, eyes screwed shut. He keeps his pace, fast and hard, and nuzzles his face into your neck, enveloping himself in the smell of warm vanilla, champagne, and sweat—a combination good enough to fucking eat. One of his hands moves to wrap around your throat, the other to rub circles on your bud.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “such a perfect whore for me.”

Your entire body tightens, muscles tensing as you murmur strings of gibberish. Keiji doesn’t let up, doesn’t dare stop moving his fingers, even as you buck and shake. With the way your cunt sucks him in, the warmth and pleasure of each hump into you, he finds himself close behind you—stilling all at once to paint your insides white.

And then you’re both left panting, unmoving from your spots on the counter, all tangled limbs and sweat-soaked skin. He takes a moment to regain his composure, whispering soft praise into your ears as you both come down from your highs.

When he’s finally settled, he slips out of you, grabbing toilet paper to wipe you both off while you fix your dress.

“That was–” You sigh contently, voice hoarse, and turn to look at him, still wearing that fucked out glow that makes his heart soar.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think anyone noticed?”

A knock at the door.

“Uhm, hello?” Kuroo stutters. Bokuto’s deafening laughter can be heard from behind him. “Yeah, uh, the party ended twenty minutes ago.”

Keiji smiles.

“They noticed.”

At Peace | Akaashi Keiji

SYNOPSIS: You like taking naps on his lap.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 744

WRITTEN: 03/17/2021

You peered around the open door to Keiji's office. You stared at his back and thought about bothering him or not.

His back was facing you since his desk was in front of the window. He liked being able to pause and look out the window while he was writing articles from home.

He always left the door open for you because he knew you were a bit clingy. He didn't mind. He liked that you were clingy sometimes.

If he wasn't the type of person to accept and give affection, he wouldn't have spent all of high school with Bokuto.

You shuffled into his office. Keiji turned around in his chair, allowing you to climb onto his lap.

You wiggled around until you were comfortable. Your chest was pressed against his as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes.

He knew you well. A single glance at the clock would tell him if it was nap time or not. You always took naps around the same time each day.

He rolled his chair closer to his desk and continued to work on his laptop. It wasn't difficult for him to be your pillow and to work. All he needed was his hands anyway.

You eventually drifted off the sleep and he glanced at you before smiling softly. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then turned back to his laptop to continue working.

It was always peaceful with you.

He enjoyed being able to write in the silence of his office. The only sounds were your soft breathing and the clacks of the keyboard. There was the occasional bird tweeting or children laughing down the street.

He preferred to work bit by bit each day instead of trying to finish a whole paper in one day. When he reached his goal for the day, he saved his progress and turned his laptop off.

He glanced at the clock before placing his hands on your back and kissing the top of your head.

"Y/N, it's time to wake up," he whispered.

He preferred to wake you up gently, then increase the volume of his voice if you didn't wake up.

Your soft snoring didn't cease, so he gently shook you while telling you to wake up. You softly groaned as you opened your eyes a smidge.

"Hi, sweetheart," he greeted.

"Hmm."

You rubbed your eyes and leaned back, blinking sleepily at him. He smiled, grabbed your face, and squished your cheeks together.

"Time to wake up," he said.

You mumbled incoherent words as he moved your head from side to side in an attempt to wake you up.

"I'll get started on dinner," he said as he placed his hands onto the back of your thighs and stood up.

You clung to him as he walked to the kitchen. When he tried to place you onto the chair, you refused to let him go.

"Time to let go, Y/N."

You whined, but let go of him. He kissed your forehead and opened the refrigerator to take out ingredients for dinner.

You watched him move around the kitchen and get started on dinner. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands while waiting for the pan to heat up and the pot of water to boil.

When you were sober enough, you shuffled toward the sink to wash your hands. Then, you stood next to him to help cut the vegetables.

He carefully handed you the knife, then got started on making a sauce for the vegetables.

The two of you had a routine. He'd get started on dinner, but you'd help him finish making it once you were awake enough.

"Keiji," you called out.

He looked down at you and chuckled when he saw your face. You were expecting a kiss, and he could tell.

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips, then grabbed the vegetables to sauté them. You smiled and moved to put the noodles in the boiling pot of water.

You set the dining table while waiting for the noodles to cook. Once they were ready, you drained the water and put them on two plates.

Keiji finished the sautéed vegetables and poured them over the noodles. The two of you sat across from each other and dug into the meal.

It was the small moments of domesticity with you that he enjoyed.

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

MAPLE LEAVES.

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

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

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

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

everything seemed to be more vibrant when you were children.

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

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

are you going to come back?

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

promise?

promise!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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