Summary: Uni Student Childe Who Isn’t Dating You Yet, But He Might As Well Be With How In Love With

uh hole-y shit consider my heart broken

concept: being the nanny for atsumu’s children

❥warnings: cheating [fem!reader + atsumu], implied age gap, heavy angst, descriptions of sex, atsumu is kinda a dick

❦note: umm just my very nasty imagination bc id let atsumu use me <33 tee hee 

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━ peaches & cream

synopsis : it’s keiji’s birthday and everything needs to be perfect, but the more you try the more things mess up.

genre : so much fluff.

author’s note : my first lil drabble had to be about the birthday boy of course !

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What it’s Like to Kiss Keiji Akaashi

Notes: If you would like to see my other kissing headcanons posts, follow {this link} to my masterlist page 💕

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My dear friend @luxielle asked me (months ago) to write about the scene between fleeing Magenta and arriving at the cabin, and—at last—here it is!

even the oceans come back to the sand

GE Saeran X Reader | Words: 2002

In the beginning, you run.

It feels strange to move fast after sitting still for so many days; your leg muscles scream as the freshly-tilled dirt of the garden turns into hard, sun-warmed pavement. There is nothing here but ground and sky, and your breath comes hard and fast as you follow the empty road around a bend and over the crest of a hill.

As you climb, you think dizzily of your arrival (ten days ago; forever ago). It is strange to finally see the road that brought you here, when you were blindfolded and silent as the grave. You want to say something about it, but you don’t have the breath.

Even if you did, you aren’t sure what you would say.

You squint into the setting sun so you can see his face: he stares straight ahead, his brilliant eyes fixed on the horizon. You wonder how long it’s been since the last time he left this place. You wonder if he’s ever left at all.

The road curves sharply ahead, and you follow just a pace behind him. His cheeks are flushed, and you worry (for a moment) that he doesn’t have the stamina to keep this up—but he doesn’t waver.

His determination, you think, shines brighter than the sun in your eyes.

You clench your sweaty hands and try for one last burst of energy. He glances over his shoulder and then reaches for your hand.

“Saeran?” Your voice comes out like a breathless squeak; gently, he steers you off the road and into a clump of tall trees.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, slowing his pace to a brisk walk. “Trust me.”

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chrysopoeia.

summary: The day your mother creates Albedo, your life is changed forever. 

notes: childhood friends, angst, a negligent mother/mentor, albedo character story spoilers, 7.3k words

You leave him during an early blue dawn, and he can do nothing but let you go.

You’d spend at least six months in Liyue, you tell him, and then, you’ll find passage to Inazuma. You would make your way across Teyvat, sending home letters whenever you could.

“Klee is going to miss you,” Albedo says carefully.

“I’ll send souvenirs,” you reply. “Nothing as grand as Alice does, of course.”

“Klee will appreciate it if it’s from you. She was holding back tears the whole time we were eating dinner, you know.”

You smile wistfully, and Albedo wonders if there was someway he could preserve that look in his memory forever. “I’ll miss her, too.”

The merchant group which has graciously offered you a seat on one of their wagons is almost done prepping for the road trip to Liyue, the cargo checked and double checked again. For a brief, fleeting moment Albedo entertains the childish urge to disrupt the wagon using his geo vision, so you’d stay with him if only for a few hours more.

But he couldn’t do that to you. Instead, he takes your hand and presses a key into your palm. “You’ll always have a home here, don’t forget. You can come back anytime you want to. I’ll be waiting.”

You curl your fingers over the key, over his hand. “Yeah? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way home, so don’t wear yourself out waiting for me.”

Even after everything you had been through, even after all your years together, your hands are just as warm as he remembers, and he can’t bring himself to let go first. If he was more selfish, he would ask you to stay. There has never been a single moment where you were so far that when he called your name, you didn’t come running.

But this is the decision you’ve made, and he loves you too much to keep you close when you need to leave.

He wants to laugh at his master, at your mother. What would she do if she could see the two of you now, disregarding her last letter? Perhaps the best thing she has ever done to the two of you is to leave. If she hadn’t been so blinded, she would have realized you were more precious than anything she could ever create. Now, he finally has the answer to her final assignment, to find the truth of the world. The truth of his world is…

The merchants call your name, and you turn to leave, and Albedo knows he’ll never see anything like the light of the dawn reflected in your eyes ever again, not until you come back home, not until you come back to him.

So until then, Albedo smiles, and sends you off as the sun breaks up the blue dawn.

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let the past die, kill it if you have to

Fushiguro Megumi x Fem. Reader

desc: sparring with your boyfriend turns into an emotional unpacking of sorts.

a/n: okay but i promise it’s not ALL angst. i just can’t do that to myself, y’know? soft endings make me smile. also the title is a quote from kylo ren because i can’t think of another name. thank you very much.

warnings: angst, mentions death, blood, anxiety, trauma

wc: 3.5k

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“Is… is there really any point to this,” you pant. 

You’re hunched over with your hands on your knees, struggling to suck in a breath. 

For such a pretty day, you hadn’t planned on spending it getting sweaty, much less sparring with someone. If you’d wanted to drip sweat and ruin your hair, you would have preferred to go for a jog or hit the gym… but you certainly hadn’t asked to sink your fists into your boyfriend’s hands today.

Fushiguro adjusts the collar to his white button-down shirt and sighs, “I already told you, yes.”

There’s hardly a drop of sweat on him. 

If anything, he looks refreshed after an hour of gentle sparring. The only sign of physical exertion is a slight cherry-pink tint shown on his cheeks - even then, it could just be the product of a little too much sun on his pale skin. In comparison to the dark-haired boy’s youthful stamina, you feel like a feeble, old lady; maybe you should invest in a cane so that you look like one too. 

“But why now? You’ve never asked to teach me before.”

You don’t usually whine around Megumi - he’s too practical to take your complaints very seriously anyway - but today, you just can’t seem to help it. It’s a gripe that’s been sitting at the tip of your tongue all morning. 

For someone so reserved, he really had a way of working you to the bone. Why does he feel the need to drag you out to a random field to punch and kick and fall down when you likely couldn’t even outmaneuver a child? It’s counterintuitive and a big waste of your time. 

But he doesn’t seem to think so.

“I don’t want you to be defenseless.”

You stand back up, your lungs having finally recovered. 

“I wouldn’t call this defense. You’re literally just teaching me how to slug a guy in the face,” you say flatly while looking down to examine your hands.

“Don’t try to punch someone in the face, y/n. You’ll-”

“-break my fingers, yeah, I know. You already told me that…” you glance back up and roll your eyes. “Don’t take everything I say so literally.” A smile plays at your lips.

Fushiguro sighs in response. He wears his usual frustrated frown (which he maintains is just his resting face) and trudges toward you.

You eye him and swipe a bunched-up fist across your forehead before dropping it back to your side.

In a few short strides, he’s in front of you, blue eyes hooded and lips drawn into a firm line. He gives you a once over, probably measuring how well you’re holding up so far. You just hope that he’ll call it a day… but it’s not looking like that’s going to happen anytime soon.

He blinks. Then, without warning, Fushiguro reaches down and wraps a hand gently around your lowered wrist. He uses his other hand to conduct your upper arm so that it’s parallel to the ground. You let his warm hands guide your movements slowly and meticulously while he trains his eyes on your positioning. If you weren’t already acquainted with his inscrutable stares, you might’ve been battling a blush right now, but you’ve grown used to your boyfriend’s habits.

Although, for someone who’d just been blocking your kicks and tripping you up, Fushiguro is being awfully careful with you. His fingers, scarred and rough, are delicate on your skin. 

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This is so pretty!!!

[6:21] . . .

miya osamu loved being a tease. he knew you were only his best friend—one that he couldn’t cross the line with. but whenever he looked at you, he couldn’t stop himself. your eyes almost teased him. it was like you were trying to tempt him into kissing you. or your lips, always a little parted as if making him want to smirk into the kiss.

but he’d shake his thoughts aside, looking away from you to distract himself. you wouldn’t notice, but osamu was really falling for you.

so this fine morning, as the two of you head out to open your co-owned restaurant—onigiri miya, you casually pulled out a box of pocky sticks, snacking on them as the two of you sat in the train together. osamu chuckled at you, calling you a child when you poked your tongue out at him. walking to the restaurant took almost no time, the sun barely rising behind the two of you.

osamu, being the oblivious man he is, didn’t catch you stealing quick glances at him as the two of you talked. his face being perfectly blended with the slight rays of tuscany being shone upon him. his umber hair swept to the side, as his black turtleneck accentuated his steel-blue eyes. he looked at you almost nonchalantly, but still with that small of a smile—you loved teasing him about it, saying, “‘samu, you seriously call that a smile? show yer teeth, you idiot!”

you finally arrived at your restaurant, opening the doors and ready to prep for the day. down to your last pocky stick, you pouted at it. eyes dejected and nose scrunched up almost adorably, you stared at it for a couple of seconds. you brushed your hair away from your face when osamu called out your name from behind the counter, asking why you were still standing there.

he sighed, walking up to you, with an almost 'i’m dead inside’ look on his face. he raised an eyebrow as you placed the pocky in your mouth, your cerise lips almost taunting him to take the other end of the stick. he rolled his eyes, his gaze almost scintillescent as he snatched the stick out of your mouth.

you were about to protest, when he finally lost it. holding your face with one hand, finally placing his plump lips on yours, with the unfinished pocky stick in the other hand. the simple, bucolic, kiss as cars and bicycles drove by right outside your shared restaurant felt more or so magical; osamu chuckled as he placed the pocky stick down on a table—all the while still kissing you.

“i’ve been waiting to do that for a million years,” he muttered without a smile, but a blush clearly giving away that maybe he wasn’t totally heartless.

“well, i’ve been waiting for you to make a move for ten million years,” you huffed, reaching out to the pocky stick, but osamu got to it before you.

“you ate the whole pack. this one’s mine. [grandma/grandpa],” he smirked, putting it in his mouth as he walked back behind the counter, preparing ingredients for today.

“'samu!”

“clean the table, yer pocky was on it!”

miya osamu was your abditory—your hiraeth.

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© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

the first time I missed you

GE Saeran X Reader. For my beloved (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) anon.

When everything was over, you breathed in deep and thought from now on, I’m never going to be sad.

That day, the air smelled like dew on freshly cut grass and you looked up at the sky the way he’d taught you and felt sure you’d only ever be happy from then on. You squeezed his hand and didn’t even make a wish, because you didn’t have to.

You believed it with your whole heart.

Now, you lay in bed with the sheets all rumpled and press your palm to your aching eyes and feel foolish for ever thinking that way. In a moment of transcendence, the world slows and everything feels bright—but life isn’t that way all the time.

Even when life is good—and your life is very good—sometimes you are all alone in bed and the room is too hot and too cold all at once and your heart feels like an open wound.

There’s something about nighttime. During the day, being by yourself isn’t so bad: you like to wander in the tall grass around your strange, bulletproof home and smell the summer air and think about the future. You don’t mind sending him off with a kiss as long as you know the sun will still be up when he returns.

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ʃ♡ƪ Loving series ʃ♡ƪ

Loving Inumaki

ʃ♡ƪ Falling in love with Inumaki was an experience on its on, it was different. A good type of different. Smiles were rare, saved only for the privacy of his dorm or for perilous missions to sooth your nerves. Instead of romantic mementos your pockets held travel-sized cure throat and pain killers which oddly enough warmed your heart.

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Consent and Intimacy

request: “Can you write a drabble with Akaashi Keiji + Insatiable + Basorexia + Attachment? TY! -anon

pairing: akaashi x gn!reader

Insatiable (adj.) - (of an appetite or desire) impossible to satisfy

Basorexia (n.) - the overwhelming desire to kiss

Attachment (n.) - affection, fondness, or sympathy for someone or something

He clasps the side of your face with his palms, gently placing his forehead against yours, “my love?”

You nudge your nose in response, tightening your grip on his torso as a way of saying yes, I’m listening.

In a quiet whisper he asks, “can I kiss you?”

It’s extraordinary just how much your lover can restrain his basorexia, his overwhelming desire to kiss you— all for the sake of consent.

No matter how many times you’ve kissed, he always asks.

“Of course,” you mumble, letting your lips brush against each other.

The corners of his lips quip into a soft smile, before moving his thumb between your lips to create a small opening. He leans in slowly, he always does, as his way to savour the moment.

You can feel the gentle breeze of air exhaling through his nose, the breath he’s held for quite long finally being released. It’s the simple act of intimacy that deepens the setters attachment for you.

Though perhaps your kisses were insatiable, because he could never get enough of it.