#burning stone rin

[taeaart]

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

[kagamine-rin]

Gimme×Gimme at Miku Expo Detroit ♡

[parkaknight]

todays batch of randomized derivatives!

[vocaloidderivativeotd]

Today's Vocaloid derivative of the day is:

Kagamine Rin: Burning Stone from Project DIVA!

[itoshiexx]

when you call them "husband" - part. 2

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband" - part 2

pairings: itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "wife" on rin's part) (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, lovesick boys

notes: I'M ALIVE! i cant believe how long it's been since i had time/energy/creativity to write something, ohmy goddddddd. i'm so sorry for all the time it took to post this, but i wanna ty all so much for all the love on part 1 and all the requests for part 2! hopefully this will meet your expectations ♥ as always, i went a lil' overboard with rin's part. enjoy!

part 1 / masterlist

Itoshi Rin

rin was not a fan of social media. it was clear with the way his instagram only had 8 pictures despite being years since his career started, and even more so by the fact he had no other social media besides that. if he wasn’t so famous, people would say itoshi rin was a ghost or some artificial intelligence invention. 

it was one of the reasons people were very shocked when he started dating you, an influencer with millions of followers on every platform. rin was a private person, and you… well, you shared your life on the internet for everyone to see. to say you were polar opposites was an understatement.

however, you never forced your boyfriend to appear in any of your socials, only recording things for your own fun and memories and posting only what he allowed. rin was glad for that. he didn’t mind doing dumb things with you to see you smile, as long as the rest of the world couldn’t see how whipped he was for you.

also, you were kind of glad the professional athlete was so unaware of social media, because it meant you could do a lot of tiktok trends without the risk of him already knowing what was coming — which made everything more satisfying. 

and the trend you chose that day was especially good.

“hey everyone, it’s y/n here!” you chirped, waving your hands in front of your phone. however, you were actually recording rin, who was at the other side waiting for your sign to appear on the screen.

you continued speaking. “today i have a very special guest, who i’m sure you’re all very familiar with.” you gave the camera a little cheeky wink, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes with all your theatrics. “please welcome itoshi rin, my handsome husband!”

rin gave a step forward to start his way to you, but suddenly, his whole body froze, brows furrowing in what you could only call utmost confusion. silence took over the room for what felt like an eternity, and you had to suppress your laugh seeing the imaginary ‘loading’ wheel on his head.

rin.exe stopped working.

“baby?” you decided to intervene, honestly a little scared of how immobile rin was.

“you— i’m— did you just— did we—”

you could no longer hold your laughter, and rin’s favorite melody echoing through the walls of your shared apartment was probably what snapped him out of his trance. he immediately scowled and crossed his arms, cheeks burning red from his pathetic stutter.

“i am never doing these dumb videos with you again.”

“no, no, i’m sorry!” your giggles kept going, and you approached your pouty boyfriend, squishing his cheeks between your hands. the smooch you gave him was almost enough to make him melt. almost. rin still had some self respect.

he also didn’t want to admit how abnormally fast his stone heart was beating with the mere thought of being referred to as your husband — and, even better, referring to you as his wife. 

fuck. that certainly did make him feel lots of things. those stupid butterflies that were born the minute you met were roaming freely in his stomach, soaring with all the love he had harbored just for you. 

“i’m sorry, baby,” you said again, smiling like you swallowed the sun and all things good in this world. you might as well have. how else could rin explain the way you were his everything? “it was a prank i saw on tiktok.”

he arched his eyebrow, arms uncrossing to put his hands on your waist. “oh? so you don’t want me to be your husband?”

the itoshi was satisfied to see you flushing this time. “i— w-well, you see…”

and then you started rambling, just like you did every time something made you nervous. and rin could only look at you as if nothing else was worth looking at, because really, to him, it wasn’t. 

…well, maybe the sight of you walking down the aisle would get the cake. he might have to find out soon. 

Michael Kaiser

once you started dating bastard munchen’s star, michael kaiser, it was natural to have his world collide with yours. everything from football to blue hair dye to weird sleeping habits became a part of you as well, and you nourished every expanse of your world his presence alone was able to give.

your favorite part, besides learning all of him — his little habits, quirks and love languages that seemed to be crafted solely for you — was definitely immersing yourself in his culture. germany always seemed distant and quite detached from your life, and you loved to learn new things from different perspectives. 

food, traditions, language… michael loved teaching you things, giddy and secretly grateful for your excitement. it was his sparkly eyes that prompted you to learn a few things by yourself to surprise him and make him happy. 

the tiktok trend was just a nice coincidence. 

you phone was hidden on the kitchen balcony, camera recording and waiting for the moment your boyfriend would arrive in your shared apartment. luckily, kaiser was very punctual, and you didn’t have to wait much longer.

“liebling, i’m home!” you heard him scream from the front door, and you giggled to yourself, pretending to be busy chopping vegetables for dinner. 

you waited for his footsteps to near where you were, and, as soon as you felt he entered the camera frame, you answered:

“welcome home, ehemann!”

you didn’t have to turn around to see the way kaiser completely froze; arms stopping just before reaching your waist as if your figure was an illusion created by his tired mind. you fought hard to suppress your grin.

“what… did you say…?” his voice was low and uncertain, but there was no annoyance in it; just pure confusion. 

turning your head around to finally look at him, you were pleased to find your mikka with rosy cheeks and a bashful expression, so extremely unusual for a guy like him you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter on your chest. 

you gave him your best innocent look. “huh? isn’t that how you say boyfriend?”

“i-it’s husband, liebe. you called me husband,” his tone was still incredulous, and this time, you couldn’t keep your smile off your face. 

“oh, did i?”

your countenance seemed to finally snap him out of his trance, and michael’s eyebrows shot up, scoffing slightly — albeit still endearingly. his arms circled your waist and he pressed a kiss on the side of your neck. 

“how mean of you, baby. playing with my heart like that.” he trailed more kisses on your neck and jaw, making you squirm. “you tryin’ to kill me or something?”

you giggled again, both from the ticklish kisses he was giving you and the huge amount of love you had harbored just for him. “of course not, baby. i need you alive to make you my husband,” you jested.

“oh, yeah? you wanna make me your husband?”

“yes.” you shifted, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. kaiser hugged you a little tighter, feeling something fuzzy inside his chest. “is that a problem?”

“never,” he answered immediately. because it was true.

boyfriend, fiancé, partner, husband… michael didn’t mind what title would be bestowed to him — as long as he could keep being yours.

Mikage Reo

being the heir of one of the biggest corporations of the country and a professional football player made your boyfriend’s schedule pretty busy. therefore, thursdays like these, where you and him could have a nice walk around the park under the warm sunlight, hand in hand, were extremely rare — hence why they were so appreciated.

reo knew how much his frenetic agenda was a hard toll on your relationship, affecting both of you with distance, longing and short periods of time together. and, well, everyone knew how much of a goner he was for you, so it wasn’t surprising to see him give in whatever spare time he had in his hands — even going as far as making such time exist if there wasn’t any — to be with you for as long as he possibly could.

how could he deny your pretty little eyes pleading to have a stroll in the park with him ‘just for a few minutes?’

god, you were so selfless. he wanted to give you all of his minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. and for all that’s worth, reo would never deny you of such a thing — he’d rather shoot himself than make you think you weren’t loved with every fiber of his being.

the weather was nice; a gentle breeze kissing both of your faces and making everything more pleasant. you were both chatting and appreciating the calm environment when you spotted an old lady a few feet ahead, selling different colored roses for the passersby. a smile was etched onto your lips, and you impulsively let go of reo’s hand to run towards her. 

“why hello, dear. would you like to buy a rose?”

your boyfriend watched you beam to the lady and slowly approached you, though still keeping his distance and trying hard not to intervene and buy all the roses for you. 

“yes, please! a red one would be perfect.”

“oh, who will you give it to?” asked the woman, already taking one flower from the bunch to hand it to you. 

your smile became slightly more bashful, “it’s for my husband!”

and fuck, if reo wasn’t already completely in love with you and thoroughly believed you were his soulmate until then, he certainly would after that very moment. he could feel his cheeks burning and his tongue rolling inside his mouth with how speechless he became. his heart soared with your words, excitement coursing through his veins with a love so overwhelming he nearly fell on his knees right there. 

heavens, he loved you so fucking much. and you made him realize it was about time he proved it to you (once again).

his hands easily found his phone in his pocket, and a quick call to the jewelry store was made while you busied yourself with paying for the flower. reo couldn’t stop smiling like a lovesick fool, but he didn’t mind.

“hey, mr. fuji, it’s mikage! you know, i think it’s time for that visit i mentioned a while ago…”

he might not fall to his knees right there, but he would drop at one knee very soon.

[pparadiselost]

could you write sae x reader x shidou? if not, then shidou x reader would be fine

and im absolutely inlove with dacryphilia.. so if you could include that too thanks ^^

deux et trois.

shidou ryusei x fem reader x itoshi sae your wild boyfriend has always been a handful, but him tagteaming you with a rather trusted teammate might be more than you can chew. warning(s): nsfw, dacryphilia, dubcon, exhibitionism, cucking, degradation (from sae) minors do not interact.

dating someone like shidou ryusei feels a lot like a dream come true in the conceptual sense. you could easily imagine a whole plethora of young women who would give up everything they ever knew to date a handsome, successful soccer player like him and to essentially live a guaranteed life of glamor and luxury. and this much was your reality, and it was a fact that you accepted with as much humility and gratitude you could. 

you were never someone who enjoyed letting such superficial things get to your head and pump your ego up; you falling in love with him and him falling in love with you was nothing more than chance, and nothing on the objective level separated you from any other girl in the world. 

and shidou treats you sweetly, a surprising contrast to his maniacal behavior on the playing field. he’s still energetic and gets a kick out of teasing you playfully whenever he gets the chance to, but everything he does shows that he cares for you. perhaps in that way you two are really meant for each other; he would never purposefully do anything to upset you, and everything he involved you with was because he genuinely thought it would be good for you.

his coworkers, be they opponents or teammates, also all treated you with a degree of respect. they were intimidating and constantly raring to go, as if each of them were starved beasts, but they knew that you were simply shidou’s lover but not him himself. you grew accustomed with some of them. isagi sometimes gave you a shy smile and a greeting, igaguri would beg you to tone down your boyfriend to no success, and even the icy rin would peer at you with his cold teal eyes and nod curtly in your direction.

but exceptions were always to be expected.

“hm…,” a callous voice hums to no one in particular from above you. “...i can’t say i knew what to expect from you, but this certainly wasn’t it, little demon. well, i suppose that is my fault for letting you have too much free rein.”

your core burns, and every part of your bare body prickles with heat and shame. you don’t know how this happened or what pieces fell into place to bring you here, but you were here nonetheless. shidou’s dick is stuffed into you, your boyfriend bucking his hips wildly into you while you’re perched helplessly on his lap, and your thighs are spread apart nice and wide to give the other man in the room a perfect view to how shidou’s cock stretches your pussy apart.

you recognize him vaguely. unlike shidou, this man’s face is unreadable and frosty. his jaw is set as if it were carved out of stone, beautiful but unapproachable, and long under eyelashes escort you mockingly upwards to his unimpressed eyes. his irises are the same shade of breathtaking teal that are rin’s, and your stomach flips.

“whaaaaaat, i thought i’d offer you the best!” shidou sings from behind you. you whimper as he leans forward, trapping you in between his arms and his toned chest. “c’mon, why are you acting so shy all of the sudden, sae-chan? if i brought you anything less than acceptable to your impossible standards, you’d call me all sorts of ugly names and kick me out!”

this whole thing is embarrassing. you’re already so shy about having sex with your boyfriend, let alone have sex with him while someone that might as well be a total stranger watch you bouncing on top of shidou’s dick like tomorrow doesn't exist. and you weren’t given much space to hide any of it either. the very instant you’d make an attempt to even close your legs, shidou would be spreading them right apart and bullying his throbbing length into you even deeper, as if to offer your stuffed cunt up to itoshi sae and brag about it to him.

sae frowns, and his pretty lips twist into something that almost looks like a scowl. the temperature in the room feels as if it’s mounting into a dizzying heat but also plunging into an arctic chill between the two men. “but to think you’d bring me your girlfriend… i’d be impressed, if it weren’t for the fact that you brought me such a perverted girl.”

your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he points an insult at you. you’d believe that sae hated you with an unspoken passion if it weren’t for the fact that he was also naked and you could see how his cock was hardening, his dick twitching slightly whenever you glance towards the midfielder with watering eyes and short-lived gasps escaping your mouth. still, his words hurt, and you can feel tears invade the corner of your eyes. you rapidly try to blink them away; you’re already ashamed of the fact that he’s watching you getting railed by shidou, let alone cry like a baby in front of him. 

“‘m not- ‘m not a pervert-,” you somehow manage to choke out, and your chest immediately tightens. you sound more like an out-of-breath porn star than you do the normally sweet and assertive girl that you are, and your gut spasms with shame. fuck, fuck, fuck! this shouldn’t feel good, you really shouldn’t be getting off to something as wicked and shameful as this. but the throbbing in your core tells you otherwise; you’re enjoying being watched as shidou dicks you down mercilessly.

as if on cue, shidou laughs heartily. you grip at his arm when he snakes a hand down to pinch at your clit. heat jolts straight up your pussy, and you let out a strangled cry.

“but isn’t she beautiful, sae-chan? looks like you hit a nerve with what you said to her. she looooooves to act all shy and cute, but i’ll have you know that she’s really fun to play with.” he fucks his cock up harshly into you as if he’s making a point, and you’re practically drooling from the way he forces you to take it, your pliant walls molding to the rough lovemaking he’s showing you, all of the pleasure making you feel lightheaded.

you’re not sure what to do. you feel so good, you love having shidou’s cock inside of you. and the new angle of having him fucking upwards into you makes your pussy drool with anticipating, desperate to cum. you want him all over you: touching your bouncing tits, torturing your clit, making sure your pussy only feels good from having his length inside of you. but as much as you want to lose yourself to this world-shattering pleasure, you can’t really succumb to it because of how hyperaware you are of the little voyeur in front of you. 

sae makes it clear that he’s observing every detail. his eyes glaze all over the curves of your body, and you shudder when he stares right in between your legs, where shidou’s fucking into you. it feels like he’s judging you, like he’s telling you that he clearly has the upper hand in the situation, and that you having sex with your boyfriend only exists for his amusement.

you try your hardest to bite back how much your eyes are watering. but everything feels too good, and you’re quickly crumbling in shidou’s arms. shidou’s doing his best to get you to cum. his mouth sucks all over your neck and leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, and you whimper loudly when he bites and sucks on your earlobe.

“n-not there…! please- ryu, i can’t take it! be nice to me… no- gonna cum-,” you moan out. you’re shaking your hips lewdly, and your inner thighs burn. but fuck, you’d be damned if you said shidou wasn’t making you feel good. like the dedicated boyfriend he was, he knew exactly what he needed to do to get you to fall apart. you’re crying out, and there’s a ring of frothy white forming at the base of his cock. his balls twitch under you, and your pussy clenches and tightens up ruthlessly around his girth when you start thinking about having him creampie you.

“gonna cum already? we just got started though! i promised sae-chan such a good show too…” shidou makes an exaggerated kissing noise, and one of his big hands squeezes encouragingly at your hips. sae lets out a quiet huff as if in disagreement, but there’s a few drops of prominent pre-cum that bead at his tip. you’re not sure if sae is a masochist or just downright prideful. probably both, but despite how red and angry his cock looks, he refuses to touch himself to the sight of you.

your vision is hazing over with tears. you really don’t want to cry, don't want to look weak in front of a stranger, don’t want to look like you’re falling apart this quickly. but trying to regain control of your body when so much is happening to you feels impossible, and everything is going to your head. your core is tightening up dangerously, and the pleasure is overwhelming every part of your mind. you whine and whimper, mewling like a wounded animal, and a few scalding hot tears slip past your lashline.

it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“are you… crying?” sae spits out the words as if they’re toxic and bitter in his mouth. you shake your head feebly and try to turn your face away from the redhead, but your body seems to answer instead of your mouth. your pussy clamps down on shidou with renewed vigor, and the boy lets out a gruff “fuck!” through his gritted teeth before laughing loudly and speeding his pace up. 

you hiccup. “no- ‘m not crying- not so fast, ryu, please…! you’ll mess me up, you’ll mess up my pussy if you fuck me like that-!! ah- feels so good- you’ll kill me- i’ll die from having sex with you!”

more tears are streaming down your cheeks, leaving hot trails as they fall. sae’s eyes are blown open wide, and something akin to fear settles deep in your body when you notice how entranced he looks. it’s like he wants to gobble you whole, like a man possessed by something unholy, and you cower against shidou’s chest as if he’s able to provide any protection.

shidou giggles delightedly against your ears. “you’re saying such lewd things… you’re making me really happy, did you know that? yeah? is your boyfriend’s cock making you feel that good? gosh, you’re so naughty… i didn’t know you liked my dick that much.”

you sniffle, suddenly feeling as if all the strength was being sapped from your body. you can barely see as the tears fall freely from your eyes, staining your face. you’re aware of how awful you must look, turning into goo in shidou’s arms as every part of your body shakes. it’s horrible and vulnerable, but at the same time, it turns you on so badly with a high so unexpected that you’re scared you’ll get hooked on it. it’s the kind of pleasure that runs so deep, you know it’s going to ruin you the moment you let it fully take root inside of you.

“gonna cum- please- please, slow down- not so deep, ryu, not so deep! i can’t take it-,” you squeak out. your head lolls back weakly against shidou’s shoulders, and you moan when shidou captures your mouth into a deep kiss. his tongue swirls all around your defenseless mouth, and you sob and cry all throughout the kiss. your pussy won’t quit squeezing and hugging his cock, and being kissed through it only makes you tighten up that much more. 

the friction is just so, so addictive. you want more. you need more. you don’t want anyone else to see you falling apart in such an unglamorous way, fucked dumb and reduced to tears over a man’s dick, but your boyfriend is determined to show you off to his friend and to rip an orgasm out of you one way or the other. 

a strand of saliva clings to shidou’s mouth when he pries his lips off of you, and he glances over at sae with a smug grin. “uh-uh, none of that, babe. i know you can take it, know you can handle my cock. look at you! you’re doing so good… it’s like your pussy wants my cock more than you say you do- don’t lie to me. bet you want me to cum inside you too, fill that pretty hole of yours up with aaaaaaaaaaall of my semen. what do you think, sae-chan?”

“do you think a girl like that deserves it? look at her, crying over something as trivial as this. does the thought of being watched make you want to cry?” sae’s voice is as sharp and cold as ever, and the edge to his words make you sniffle. “what a dirty girl… it makes me almost pity her. almost.”

shidou pretends to pout, and he sticks his tongue out. you moan, your cheeks feeling sticky and hot from all of the dried tears smoothing over your skin. everything feels heavy and good, your pussy being pounded into a senseless mess from how rigorously shidou’s fucking his cock into you. it’s like he’s trying to force more and more of his cock up into your tight hole, attempting to spear himself all the way in until your hips hit the base of his cock, like he wants his tip to pry open your womb and flood you with all of his cum.

“i don’t know what else i expected out of the big meanie sae-chan… well, too bad that i’m the one that’s actually fucking her. you can be mean and awful all you want, but i think i want to cum inside of my girlfriend.” shidou laughs against the shell of your ear. a cold shudder runs down your spine when he nips at your skin again, your neck and face vulnerable to his teeth. “ooh, you’re tightening up against me again…! fuck- so fucking tight- so eager for cock, huh? yeah, i like this side of you sooooo much… you’re just sooooo cute when you can’t resist me!”

you sob openly, not sure who to turn to for help. sae won’t lift a finger, not when his tip is leaking angry pearly white beads of pre-cum and not when he’s more fixated on the fat tears welling at your eyes than anything else. you’re no better than a prey animal when shidou’s like this, determined to creampie you and imprint himself even further onto your pussy. no matter how much you writhe and try to catch a moment to breathe, he pulls you down even further on his cock and sends a jerk of hot pleasure straight up your crotch.

“cumming-,” you choke out, your words slurred out. if you were any more coherent, you’d be embarrassed with yourself for letting another man watch you orgasm this shamelessly on shidou’s cock, thighs pried and held open so that sae doesn’t miss a single detail of your pussy being spread apart and stretched out mercilessly on your boyfriend’s length. “ah- ryu- i can’t hold it in any more… your cock feels- feels too good…! ‘m cumming- ‘m cumming, i’m cumming- fuck- oh- ‘m gonna cum- gonna cum- gonna cum so- sooooo fucking hard…!”

your pussy clamps down like there’s no tomorrow around shidou’s dick when he angles his hips just right and yanks you down as far as he can down onto his lap. you let out a loud cry as heat rips through your body as if you’re made out of nothing. your brain is thrown into overdrive, your nerves and synapses working overtime to flood every inch of your body with pleasure and heat, your stomach furling in on itself almost painfully, pussy gushing lewdly as your juices soak shidou’s cock and your hole spurts and drools out your orgasm.

it’s like something inside of you breaks. sex with shidou always felt good, but something about this felt as if you had crossed a point of no return. you shudder and shake, reeling in the newfound pleasure. it’s like the pulsing nestled deep in your stomach pushes and pulls, like a second heartbeat tugging you downwards. it feels good, it feels so good, and you feel like a broken shell of something that was before, unable to push past the fog in your brain or the haziness in your eyes. 

you can vaguely make out the sound of shidou’s adoring laugh, and you cry out once more when he grinds up against you, rocking his hips into your ass and keeping you stuck down and trapped on his entire length. you’re squeezing him so nicely, your pretty pussy all fluttering and desperate around him, clenching him and milking him despite how shy and insistent you are that you’re above all of this. but you aren’t, and everything in this room knows that.

“hah- ahhh, you’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” shidou breathes, his voice suddenly high-pitched and tinged with a crazed lust he reserves solely for you. your breath hitches in your throat when he leans towards your face and buries his head into the crook of your neck, and he inhales deep, greedy breaths of your scent. his cock is about to burst, all swollen and thick and wanting nothing more than to stuff every inch of your cunt with his semen. “that’s my girl… take it all! it isn’t meant for anyone else!”

you nearly go limp in his arms when his cum gushes into you. you can feel it shoot straight into your stomach, quite literally flooding what feels like every part of your insides. it’s hot, and it burns. and yet some part of you inwardly croons at how good it feels, like your pussy was made to catch all of shidou’s cum and to store it deep inside, to feel it swirl around you and leak out of your pulsing entrance, dripping down shidou’s engorged length and joining with the rest of the ivory ring built up at the base of his cock from all of your lovejuices mixing with his as he fucked you like an animal gone wild. 

shidou smiles to himself as he lets you sit there, with no choice but to be impaled on his dick, and he makes sure most of his cum is safely lodged deep into your insides before he maneuvers you expertly off of his length. 

you feel weak, and your limbs dangle limply as you slump over onto the mattress. shidou presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head and wipes at your eyelids carefully, and you bite back a shudder when you see him lick your salty tears from his thumb. he looks down at you with a look laced with both love and desire, and you’re brought back to reality.

“i think i’ve given you a good show, sae-chan,” he coos, glancing towards the stoic redhead. “she’s all yours now! don’t have too much fun though, you hear? even though i like you quite a bit, it’ll make me sad to see my girl feeling too good from another guy’s cock.”

“your mind knows no limits,” sae breathes as if he’s annoyed with shidou, but he still steps towards you without any hesitation. you choke back a teary-eyed hiccup as he looms over you, and you let him grab onto your thighs and spread your legs apart. your cunt still feels spent and sticky, and globs of shidou’s pearly white cum drips from your fluttering hole. 

sae’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. you can’t tell if he likes the sight or not. he slots himself in between your spread legs, and he watches you with his pointed eyes. silently, carefully, like a snake laying in wait in the tall grass waiting for the moment you come down back fully to earth and understand the gravity of the situation you’re in.

your belly coils with the familiar thrums of arousal when his tip prods at your swollen clit. you let out a small gasp as sparks climb up your insides, settling somewhere deep in your stomach. you just had your brains fucked out by your boyfriend, your cunt spread apart by his thick cock, but you want dick inside of you again.

you wiggle your hips, and you think you see the edges of sae’s mouth twitch. he stares at you and the way shidou’s cum leaks out from your pussy and onto the tip of his cock.

“do you want it?” he asks plainly. you nod, knowing he’s going to be mean to you. he seems to get off on it, hurling insults at you and seeing your face stricken with tears. he seems like he’s just about to sneer at you, like he’s disgusted at the fact that he’s even in the same room as you, despite the fact that he’s literally grinding his slick cock against your sensitive folds.

“how awful. begging for another man’s cock right after having sex with your boyfriend… is this a part of some weird perverted fantasy you have? you two are perfect for each other, did you know that?” he clicks his tongue. you shudder uncontrollably. the edge to his words are sharp, and despite bracing yourself for it, you can feel hot tears kissing the corners of your eyes again. it hurts, it laces against your heart, but fuck, you’d be damned if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit.

your tears hang heavy off of your lashes, threatening to drip over your waterline, and for the first time since you’ve bared yourself to the two men, sae’s expression actually softens. you sniff pathetically, unable to form proper words, but he grabs at your hips. he leans in, and you stiffen, unsure whether to avoid him or to let him continue to come closer. you’re mesmerized by how unrealistically beautiful the redhead is: the fiery red strands of his hair are nothing like the icy turquoise of his eyes, and if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with the sensation of having an orgasm ripped from you and another man on top of you, you might have been starstruck truly.

his lips part slightly, and his tongue sneaks out from between. you clench your eyes shut, and something warm laps at your eyes, stealing your tears from your face. 

pressure taps at your cunt, and you let your head go limp as the stretch of penetration slowly grips you all over. you should be tired, should be worn out, but as the dull pleasure flickers inside you again, you find a moan bubbling up in the back of your throat. god, taking dick feels too good for you to ever not want it this badly. whereas shidou is always quick and skilled at drawing out an orgasm from you in record speeds, sae takes his time in penetrating you. it’s like he wants you to feel the stretch, wants you to feel the presence of his cock as he slides himself into you, and while your walls envelop his girth fully, he laps greedily at your heady tears.

“ah- sae…! ah- please- fuck me…,” you choke out. he bottoms out inside of you, and you can feel his balls pressed up against your hole. one hand reaches down, and you clench up around him when two fingers start to slowly rub circles into your puffy clit. it’s simultaneously too much and not enough at once, feeling him play with your clit while not moving his cock. the tender wetness of his tongue gliding over your face makes your head spin, and your pussy won’t stop gripping onto his length.

he breathes over your cheeks, the hot breath leaving you shivering. “dirty girl… who said you can demand things from me like that? shidou might let you get away with things like that because he likes it, but i’m not an easy man like that.”

“please-,” your voice sounds strained and needy, unlike your normally sweet but still firm cadence. “having your cock inside of me feels good- wanna feel more of you, please… please fuck me! i wanna feel you thrusting into me- wanna feel it, wanna have more of your cock inside- please, sae, please…”

“you don’t get to tell me how to move,” he hisses. he throbs and twitches inside you, and you can feel his balls tense up against your ass. but he draws his hips back slowly, giving one slow stroke, and that’s almost enough to make you fall apart. you throw your head back and let out a drawn out whine, your cunt fluttering violently against his swollen cock. he’s being mean to you, he’s being so, so mean to you, but your pussy feels full and good when his dick’s kissing your deepest parts.

if shidou had been pounding into you, sae keeps you begging for more. he treats his dick as if it’s something for you to earn, despite how he grinds upwards into you, the leaking head of his cock pressing straight into what feels like the entrance of your cervix. he keeps degrading you, muttering words that swim straight through your ears, and you keep crying those beautiful pearly tears that mar your vision and stain your cheeks. it drives him crazy, to break down such an innocent, beautiful girl into the worst, senseless version of herself, and he makes sure you know it, feel every second of it.

his pace is a bit faster now, but far from the animalistic sex you need to feed this uncontrollable side of yourself. the sound of your bodies connecting is nothing short of obscene, and sae drinks it all up as if you’ve mixed it personally just for him. you might as well have; you were meant to be offered up to him like some kind of sacrifice on a silver platter from the start, before you were even aware of the predicament you would be in.

“harder- harder- want more- please, fuck me harder…!” you sob pathetically. it’s humiliating, having to beg for a man’s cock in such a demeaning manner. you know words alone can’t convince sae, so you press your aching thighs apart further, using your hands to press them closer to your chest. the change in your position has his cock hitting deeper and more roughly into you, and your moans go from desperate cries to throaty chokes. you feel like you’re suffocating over your own breath, but the way you buck your hips against sae’s proves that there are far more pressing things in your mind than self-preservation. 

sae grits his teeth, and he slams his hips into you. his cock pumps in and out of your greedy hole, and your cunt grips onto him like it doesn’t want to let go. fuck—it almost makes sae mad over how good your body feels, especially after getting what feels like shidou’s sloppy seconds. his abs tense up as he sucks in a deep breath, the focus in his teal eyes starting to shake around the edges.

“thank you- thank you, thank you, thank you-,” you pant out helplessly when the full strokes are finally, finally where you wanted them to be at the start. you shake your head back and forth, entire body trembling and overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumes you. “feels so good- cock feels so good inside of me, sae- want to cum on it… want your cock to make me cum- make me pussy cum…!”

“you really are the worst,” sae laughs. his hair is sticking to his forehead, and despite how awful he is to you, he looks beautiful. “begging for another man’s cock in front of your boyfriend? don’t you have any sense of shame?”

“feels good-,” you weakly choke out, as if that was an excuse. you know shidou doesn’t mind. he was the one to drag you into this mess in the first place. sae really enjoys this farce, this holier-than-thou act, when everyone in the room knows that he’s just as twisted and depraved as you are. it takes two to have sex like this, and you sure as hell aren’t alone. “make me cum- please, i wanna cum…! i’ve been so good for you.”

sae hums to himself. his cock pulses inside of you. your pussy’s just as shameless as your mouth is, milking him every second he stays buried into your hole, and it feels like your inner walls are begging him for his cum too. you must really like being treated like this, your pussy filled up over and over again with cum, not caring if it was your boyfriend or a man that your boyfriend happened to feel comfortable handing you over to. what a greedy girl you were.

“you wanna cum?” he sneers. “do you think you deserve it? all you’ve done is lay there and cry and take my dick. so demanding…”

you shudder, seeing stars. you can feel your orgasm building up and laying in wait deep in your belly, just begging for a few more harsh thrusts to topple you over the edge. shidou had fucked you out so good before, and you needed a taste of that pleasure again. you already felt so good stretched out and humiliated like this on sae’s cock that you could only imagine how much better finally getting your release would feel.

“you’re so mean to me… just wanna cum-,” you sniffle out. your voice wobbles, and sae grunts when a fresh wave of tears threaten to overtake you. it’s embarrassing how a crying girl might be the thing that gets him to snap, so he grits his teeth and bucks his hips harshly into you. 

it’s your fault. all of this is your fault. he can’t admit to himself that this turns him on, that seeing you sob and wail and writhe has him wanting to blow his fat load inside of you. that would be too much for him, to cum inside of you and then have you cry just from the sheer pleasure of it. to take dick so good that it makes you fall apart and bawl senselessly as if you’re his girl, not shidou’s.

“yeah, that’s right-,” he grunts under his breath. “go ahead and cum then. if you really want to end up as a mess on my cock, then i’m not stopping you. make a show for your boyfriend then, huh? let him see you crying and screaming from how good you feel on my dick. you have him to thank for landing you in this position to begin with.”

you swallow back a shaky inhale. your vision had been blurred over a long time ago, but right now, with your entire body weighed down with nonstop arousal, you feel like you’re seeing stars. it feels so good and it hurts, but it hurts in a way that has you moving your hips lewdly and wanting him to stuff your already cumdrenched pussy with his load. 

he thrusts sharply in you. again and again and again, until his entire length is stretching you and bullying your cunt open, his cockhead slamming into your g-spot over and over until the pangs inside of your pussy start pounding against the inside of your skull. your moans are melting away into incoherent slurred noises, barely gasping out his name.

“sae- sae…! ohhhhh, fuck- fuck, so deep- so hard…” your body shakes, and your voice sounds unrecognizable. sae likes this too much, likes seeing how broken you are because of his own machinations. he grits his teeth, the bed shaking and his pace nearly falling apart, his thrusts messy and awful and everything you need.

you cum with a silent cry. your back arches, and your hands scramble to try to grip onto anything to steady yourself. your fingernails dig into your own flesh, your thighs aching and screaming in pain despite the numbing pleasure that crashes entirely over you. fuck, everything feels so fucking good, and your brain feels like it’s melting out of your ears as your orgasm grips every one of your synapses. tears glide down your face without any restraint, and your sobs echo throughout your ears as you turn into a truly fucked out mess.

sae grunts, his own voice low and muffled, when he feels your cunt clamping down on him and a sudden warmth engulfing his whole cock. his self control wavers when he feels you creaming around him, your pussy milking his cock. it’s like your walls are clinging to every inch, every ridge of his length and refusing to let go, pulsing all around him like you want him to unload inside of you and paint your insides completely white again. of course you do, you’ve been begging for it this entire time. being creampied once by your boyfriend isn’t simply enough for you anymore, sae knows, you need him to do it again and to overwhelm you with his twisted desire.

you gasp when he fucks you roughly through your orgasm. it’s almost too much, your stunned cunt keening with overstimulation when the faint sparks start flying again. sae mutters something you can’t quite pick up, and he slams into you hard, enough to have you recoiling backwards.

his cum explodes inside of you as he hangs his head, his breathing unsteady as he stays buried deep inside of you. it’s as if he wants to drown out shidou’s cum with his own, scalding lines of white cum. it’s blasphemous, how good it feels, and if sae wasn’t feeling so out of body right now, he would be mad at the fact that a mere girl—shidou’s girlfriend, no less—could knock him off of his high throne like this.

you don’t get any reprieve from the whole thing. sae yanks himself out of you the moment his grounded rationale seeps back into his brain, and you whimper in protest. your spent hole feels so empty without a cock to stretch you out, but you feel dazed and heavy and warm. their cum mixing together fills you up, and some of it leaks out of you in a lewd rivulet, dripping in such a tantalizing manner down the flesh of your ass.

sae leans over to grip your face harshly, tilting your face so that you meet his eyes. his hold on you tightens to an almost painful extent when he sees the final remnants of your tears swimming in a clear layer over your puffy eyes, the evaporated marks on your damp cheeks, your lashes wet from everything that you had faced. 

you’re pretty, pretty when you’re stained with cum and tears and all of the filth that sae’s dumped onto you.

shidou slinks up behind him with his usual strange smile, and he snakes his arms over sae’s neck from behind. “what a good show, sae-chan! my girl’s amazing, isn’t she? look at her now… ooh, it makes me want to fuck her all over again.”

sae sucks in a deep breath as he watches shidou prance over to you to press a sickly kiss to your forehead, and his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. shidou peers up at sae as if to mock him when he kisses your eyes, the taste of your salty tears spreading across the inside of his mouth.

it’s irritating. it’s annoying. his cock stirs again, and his lower stomach flares with warmth again.

was this the game shidou had planned from the start? sae didn’t care; the result wouldn’t have changed. the only certain thing now is the way these two men circle you like a pair of vultures descending upon their next meal, the hunger in their eyes primal and filled with an unspoken anticipation. you should be cowering away from the intensity, but you’re right there with them.

shidou giggles as a large hand caresses your bare knee. “that’s a good girl… now that you’ve taken each of us individually and sae-chan’s gotten all nice and warmed up, it’s time to get to the main event, don’t you think?”

“...the way you talk about it like it’s some game makes my skin crawl,” sae’s cold voice sighs. something sticky and hard brushes against your calves when two hands coax your legs open again, and your cunt clenches weakly with arousal, heat licking around your insides shakily. your cunt, still leaking with cum, is bared fully for the two men to enjoy in their own respective ways.

you close your eyes momentarily, your tear-filled vision finally turning to black. 

“ready to take both of us at once?”

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to these vetted gofundmes to help families!

[souichieatr]

meeting their teammates

with suna r. tendou s. tsukishima k.

a/n: i think i'm going through suna withdrawals guys

suna

suna had texted you before practice that he forgot his water bottle and he'd rather die than drink the water fountain at the gym so you decided to surprise him with a water bottle from the corner store. opening the door as quietly as possible but still making a loud squeak, peaking your head through, the manager of the team turns their head to you. running to you so the practice isn't disrupted.

“hey there, what can we help you with?” they say sweetly with a smile.

“i'm sorry to interrupt, i was just wanting to drop this bottle off for suna rintaro , he forgot his” you say, holding the bottle up. they nod their head turning their body to face the coach, the manager makes a gesture with their hands and the coach nods. the coach yells that the boys could take a 15 minute break.

“suna rintaro could i get you here for a second” the manager yells for your boyfriend. hearing the mocking “ohs” makes you giggle. suna drags his feet as he walks to you two making eye contact with you he perks up a bit.

“hey what are you doing here?” he asks quietly as he pulls you into a hug.

“i got you- can't b-breathe rin” you try to say but sounding more of a wheeze as he squeezes you. chuckling at your reaction he lets go and steps back.

“hm?”

“i got you this” you say trying to catch your breath handing him the bottle. his manager laughs at the gesture as they walk off. he grabs the water bottle making sure to graze his fingers against your soft hands.

“WHAT YA GOT THERE SUNA RIN?” a voice starkes you both from behind him. leaning your head to the side to see who it was. “ohh is that a gift suna?” he says again.

“what if it is? jealous?” suna says turning around to face the blond, turning back to you. “this is atsumu” he says as you nod your head.

“hi im y/n” you say, reaching your hand forward as a friendly gesture.

“THIS IS YER GIRLFRIEND?” atsumu grabs your hand and shakes it, “he talks about ya all the time and he rarely ever talks” he talks as a small circle of guys form. suna hesitantly introduces everyone as they all welcome you in the gym.

tendou

he's asked you so many times to come to one of his volleyball practices and meet all his teammates. you've met ushiwaka a handful of times as him and tendou hang out a lot. you had forgotten you left your headphones in tendous backpack and before practice he'd told you to stop by to pick them up. let's kill two birds with one stone he had said. approaching the metal door you try and shake the nerves off.

“you wanna open it or just have us burn out here?” you hear someone say as they snicker, startled you turned around.

“you could use some color so you can stay” you say as you smile at him.

“you're no fun” he says pouting but he quickly leans down and kisses your cheek. “would you like me tan?”

“i'd still like you if you were bald”

“you must really love me” he says wrapping his arms around you, leaning down but a gasp from behind you makes you stop. tendou looks up and starts to hold back a laugh. “yes goshiki?”

“oh uh im sorry for you know-” goshiki stutters, letting go of tendou you turn to the boy.

“hi im y/n you're goshiki?” you say giving him your hand as you smile at him.

“goshiki this is my partner” tendou says ushering goshiki closer to you two. goshiki shakes your hand giving a weird look to your red haired partner.

“he talks a lot about you! he's really proud of the progress you've made” you say as tendou whines. goshikis eyes widen as you start to look at tendou with a smirk.

tsukishima

he'd forgotten his sports glasses at his desk he had texted you when he got to practice complaining that he had left them. sneaking back into your homeroom and grabbing the glasses from the desk you make your way to the double doors leading into the gym. opening them and peaking in a couple guys you've never met look at you but you spot yamaguchi and he too looks over. his eyes widen and he tilts his head to the side. you assume that's his way of asking why you're there. holding up your boyfriends glasses he nods his head and he jogs to the other side of the court to the coach. the couch says they can get some water and you watch yamaguchi approach tsukishima and points at you, watching yamaguchi’s hand you and tsukishima make eye contact. walking to you at a fast pace he scoots the two of you outside.

“you better have a good reason why you're here” he says, shutting the door behind him.

“oh hush i didn't come here to embarrass you i thought you would want these” you say gently holding the glasses in your palm as you stretch your arm out to him. he looks at your hand and widens his eyes then smirks.

“didn't know you cared so much” he says taking them.

“don't make me trip you-” the door opens, pushing tsukishima closer to you, he grabs you gently, pushing you back so you don't get hit.

“TSUKISHIMA YOU BASTARD SNEAKING OFF TO MAKE OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” a guy with a buzzcut started shouting and followed behind him was the rest of the team.

“YEAH TSUKISHIMA YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED” another one shouted this time with dark hair and one strip of blond.

“we're not making out and if we were it really woulndt be any of your business” tsukishima says with a sigh still not turning around to face his team.

“cmon tsukishima at least introduce us” another guy asked his jersey saying ‘1’.

“yeah tsukishima you don't want to be rude” a guy with gray hair said. tsukishima sighed again, turning around slowly with a deadpan expression.

“sorry tsukki i tried blocking the door” yamaguchi said with an awkward smile. you laugh at the interaction between all of them seeing your boyfriend in trouble was quite funny.

“hi im y/n i'm a first year” you say moving from behind tsukishima and giving them all a wave. most of them waved back and offered a welcoming smile. the two boys that shouted hid behind the guy with the number 1 jersey on and were just watching you.

“okay you all introduced yourselves and y/n has to g-” tsukishima was cut off.

“yeah glasses? not going to introduce your girl to your coach?” a blond guy in sandals stepped out. tsukishima glared at him and sighed again.

not proofread

[tteokdoroki]

“sae itoshi.”

“no.”

“would you still love me if i were to be a worm?”

sae glances upwards from his phone and mindless scrolling through social media or emails from his agent about upcoming promotional activities. your boyfriend doesn’t tolerate stupidity, it’s something he absolutely despises— half assed attempts at jokes and pleasing him only serve to piss him off. but when it’s you, sae’s like a dog that’s all bark and no bite.

“what kind of question is that?” he takes the bait, legs already spreading when you move to stand between them, his hands dropping his device to instinctively jump up to your hips.

you pout down at him, like a child being told no but it quickly dissipates as your boyfriend rubs soothing circles into your hips - loving you without openly saying it. “don’t be a prick, just answer it.”

“it’s a stupid question, ask one of your other stupid boyfriends.”

“like rin?” you tease with your tongue in your cheek — mischief dancing in your eyes in a way that sat thinks is oh so pretty.

sae drags you by the hips right down into his lap, one hand on your knee as it straddles his thigh.

“no.”

“but you said—“

“ask me again.” the midfielder huffs, feigning his indifference at the mention of his younger brother. rin wouldn’t answer that for you, he didn’t deserve to, sae thinks, possessively nudging his nose along your cheeks while your fingers curl around the broad scope of his shoulders to keep yourself steady — brain fogging up at the scent of his expensive cologne and his proximity.

“okay,” you breathe shakily, pulling back to cast your gaze into his aquamarine eyes — like throwing a stone into deep water. “would you still love me if i was a worm, sae itoshi?”

“yes,” sae mumbles, only this time in agreement. he allows his lips to brush over the corner of your mouth — indirectly asking you for a kiss as the tips of his ears burn with slight embarrassment. “i would. as long as you don’t act like a pest.”

“is that a love confession, sae itoshi?”

“shut up, don’t be annoying.” he groans, craning his neck up to kiss you fully — melting at the taste of your mixed berry chapstick on his tongue and biting down on your lower lip until you squeal for him.

sae always did have his unconventional ways of showing love — even if it meant you prying it out of him.

[adoregojo]

✘ unrequited love

summary: loves echoes through the darkness, yet there's no light to erase it.

or

↝ they like you, you don't seem to share the bits of it.

context: unrequited love, angst no comfort, !!gn reader!!, angst and also angst, mention of blood, character: isagi, bachira, nagi, rin.

Isagi.y

he felt his heart break a bit, didn't shatter. just a little crack that made him lose his breathing track for a second.

he has to take a step back from you, to 'comprehend’ it, and by that he means living his ordinary road, just with a new layer of wretchedness. He really tried going on his old ways, yet his attempts were futile. He wouldn't utter a tune on breakfast with his family, his friends would ask him why he stuck to the mud all of a sudden, he would woolgather like there was a castle in the sky, in class, in practice to the locker room.

he would walk back home, stare at the mirror, and surveyed his features. fingers crossed his face, did he perhaps not fit the standards? more importantly, your standards? he does realize that he wasn't that much of an eye candy, but he definitely wasn't an eyesore either. did he look too basic? he’ve always been told that by his teammates一yet you always told him that they're just jealous that they don't carry the most splendid, navy blue pairs of eyes around really一god, he really missed you.

he tried, he really did try to connect the puzzle, solve it to get the idea out of your mind. laying in bed with his hands behind his head, his ceiling seems to be the most interesting thing to ever exist. Was he not your ideal type? you always told him that as long as heart remains genial, it’d be good enough. did his heart come out as ruthless? well, it's not like his behavior on the field is helping.

it took him a good long days to get it, this was not a game he could fathom in a blink, this was you. he can't change what you think of him, he can't force you to see him as the almighty devotion defines that he sees you as, he can't make you love him, as much as he wishes and prays to. for once, this isn't something that his ego could grasp on, even for his sake.

he asks you to be friends again, if you were kind enough to agree, he'd be willing to get on his knees, thanking what you had left of sympathy for him. even if life never came back like it used to, as long as you're by his side, it's not the end of the world just yet.

isagi could just wish, you’d somehow discern a new corner in your heart that’ll behold as a sense of love for him, for what he had of selfishness clinging onto him, for what he had of undying love for you.

Bachira.m

he really, lived and witnessed the world ending through his eyes and mostly his heart.

to put it mildly, bachira have always been out of place. to other people, he didn't seem to reach out of his weird spot he somehow earned. you were nice though, the nicest person he had ever met, you were his special place, and the safest of all. his favorite flower and the references to cross his brush over the pearly white papers. and with all the cheesiest in the world一his universe.

it was an unyielding thing to not catch feelings for you, his ever first friend that didn't feel ashamed when hearing his name beside yours, till he found himself wanting more than just that title, for you to be his better half sounded like a paradise blessing pouring on him.

there would be dreams where he'd finally get to press his lips against yours, it's too good to be true, the warmth and the dizziness, the sweet flavor against his lips was making his mind melt to a pool, made him heat up like he was standing above a low steam stone, he wanted more, till he'd fell unconscious in your arms from the lack of air, never ever wanting it to come to an end, yet I'll eventually burn to ashes.

he never hated you, he could never. even when you uttered the words of rejection that came like a keen pain right up his chest. it hurts, more than any punch, kick or insult he'd receive. his wheel of life seemed to diminish, and his eyes began to water.

a part of him knew this was coming, even when you became something of him, there will always be a sound whispering how inadequate he'll remain, no matter how he tries.

but hey, it's bachira. the same guy that’ll always look at the brightest side. above all, it's still love, yeah? even if you didn't return it, he was grateful that he somehow got to experience it, to pick raw flowers from the backyard with the biggest, lovesick smile glued to his face. to wake up everyday just to see you again was enough reason to leap off the bed. he was glad to say he for once, had a crush, coating the fact that his feelings got smashed to a wall. he was glad to feel any sense of true love.

your existence alone in his world was the definition of bliss, maybe he was sad because he wasn't in yours.

after all, you loving him back was too good to be true. being your friend should be an honor itself, he’ll keep on telling that to himself, till he finds the right extinguisher for the fire you lit up his heart.

Nagi. S

“sei.. I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.”

“oh.” it was light, a tune of realization. In an instant, his eyes are empty again, the world blends to a hue of gray he knows the most, and suddenly sinking into a dreamless slumber for a whole day sounded like a brilliant idea.

“okay.” that's it, that's all he had to say before he's.. him again. he was nagi again, not the seishirou that fell smitten and starstruck, the one you made with your bare hands, the better version一the happiest version of himself.

he doesn't get a grasp on why he felt nothing at that moment, but at the same time he felt everything一it almost felt like he had an organ failure, but also his heart rate draw at halt. it was hard to put it on words一but what he knew, he definitely never, ever wants to experience anything like that again.

for the longest time, nagi always lends to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, it's been like this for the longest time. you and him, perhaps against the world一but really, it was more like you against the world while he immerse in your shadow.

he didn't mind. your light has always been overcasting. your smile was radiant, with your eyes aglow, he couldn't help but feel small. he was nothing against the brightest star to ablaze at him, and for the countless nights, he'd wondered一why him? nagi didn't exactly embrace the fact he was a slacker, he just tended to let it be this way, it was too much of a hassle to correct it一or maybe it was a truth that cannot be denied, who knows.

it was mostly his fault, for getting too used to you, for leaning on you like his own wheel of life. but he didn't want to let you go, it would be a pain一he was selfish after all.

nagi would slim down on your shoulder, he can feel your slightest tenseness. you were always comfortable, so comfortable that he could just be one with you.

“do you like me back yet?” he would ask, you say nothing. he’d inhale a soft sigh, snuggling onto you even more till his snowy locks kept on tickling the skin of your neck.

“that's okay, I'll stay here until you like me back.”

you again say nothing, but you’ll let him hold your hand, meshing your palms together. maybe he'll let go when his heart stops skipping a beat for you, or when the world comes to crumble, but they both end up with the same fate anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Rin.i

he knew he'll at some point regret this. wanting you of all people was a sin, a forbidden love.

despite his ears ringing, and his heart dropping to his core. he saw it coming, he would mutter that he'd be ready for it, just for it to sting like a sore thumb. it felt like he was collapsing on the ground with a pool of blood and tears, and all you’d do is watch with pity.

he felt bare, naked and exposed, he wanted to hide. he felt rejected and small. Suddenly he was fifteen again, pleading for his big brother to not leave him to rot in the cold, to not let the snow be the only source of comfort he had instead of a warm embrace.

for once, he had felt his heart swell with adoration一for a second, he didn't even have a name for that feeling, was was genuinely confident that you were making him somehow ill, there had to be a medical explanation for the mini heart attack he suffered from whenever he witnessed you at elation.

he allowed it to happen, he should've pushed you away more, he should've stood up his ground, he should've made more effort to strengthen his walls that you decayed with ease.

but what was there to wonder about the ‘what if's’ and the ‘maybe's’ yet again here he was, playing a secondary role in the ones he loved the most once again. digging his own grave stupidly.

for the first time in forever, he didn't feel like it was a challenge to love him, he didn't have to look at his reflection and grimace, he didn't have to be muddled by the name ‘itoshi sae’ this time, he was rin一your rin, was it bad that he wanted to live by that? it felt right to.

he knew he wasn't perfect, maybe even his flaws swamped over what he had of strengths. yet you seemed to admire him through it all, you looked at him like he was something一someone, he wanted to be that someone to you.

you managed to make everything look soft, feel warm. you stained his world with colors he thought he forgot the hues of it, he thinks he likes you a little too much.

for the longest time, rin was afraid he'll eat the life out of you, just like the maggots adore the flesh. seems like he was worried about nothing, because he’ll never be what he ought to be一yours.

you probably hate him, he did exclaimed hurtful things, he saw your eyes narrowing into a pained expression, it ached more than any rejection. he didn't know why, he was overwhelmed, angry and blinded by rage一and like the predictable itoshi he was. he revealed his cuspids and went for the throat.

he just wanted to hurt you back, that's what felt right at that moment. and yet as soon as he saw shedding tears running down your cheeks, satisfaction never came across, all he felt was a deep-seated regret. he felt ugly, sour and mean. and most of all, cruel.

and when rin sinks to his bed, he curls himself to a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. did his heart die already? or was he just too numb to feel anything at the moment? all he can sense is tiredness, so he closes his eyes to nothingness. where he dreams about you, with him in the summer breeze and cheap popsicles, and nothing bad happened to you and him.

sounds like a nice dream.

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (5)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# CHAPTER 5 : Someone He Loved Once

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : a beefier chapter than last time to apologize for the long wait!!!! happy 20k words to lotlt ♡ ( 6025 words )

-: ✧ :-゜・． MASTERLIST <- click me!

It's impossible to pick yourself back up when everything good about your life revolved around him.

was it unhealthy? yes

but you can't help it.

TO SAY THAT THE JOURNEY WAS BORING WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT— it was uneventful, dare you even say completely and utterly mundane. The never-ending corridors of plain, jagged, gray stone walls surround you as the scenery remains unchanging despite the hundreds of miles you have trudged on.

It has come to the point that your mind has coiled in on itself, where the even the smallest sights of slightly damp walls— or quite even the appearance of moss on the walls was enough to keep you entertained. Any slight change in the rigid texture and cracks in the walls were enough to bring you slight joy. You have begun to stray a good distance away from the rest of the party, taking your time running your fingers on the walls.

Mostly because you didn’t want to be hit in the face with the fact that you are now considered an outsider in regards to their party— as well as be faced to face with a clear view of Kabru from behind, chatting away with Rin.

So instead, you sought after lonesome comfort in the grooves of the wall.

Those miniscule changes in the terrain were the only landmarks to signal that, hey! You’re not running around in circles chasing after your own tail.

You are immensely grateful that someone had taken the time to hack and slash through the overgrown, poisonous tentacles that littered the spiral staircase between the floors. Without their efforts, you wouldn't have ever dared to venture below your usual rounds.

And then there were the frogs.

The enormous, very big, and I mean, very big frogs that inhabited this area.

You couldn't help but shudder at the sheer image of their bulging eyes and the almost neon color of their skin.  Why would you ever look at a frog that is basically neon orange and say— oh yeah! That’s perfectly fine to pass down here, with the orange frogs!

Shouldn’t it be basic knowledge at this point that the wilder, and more colorful something is, it’s most probably deadly?

Well, nothing about a dungeon is safe…

You find yourself torn between two intense emotions. On one hand, you want to shower the unknown adventurer who cleared the path with gratitude, for being the sole reason why you ever dared to venture down here. While on the other hand, there's a burning urge to skewer them with your staff and roast them over an open fire, cursing them for initiating this chaotic butterfly effect that led to your current situation.

 It was driving you insane.

You start to wonder why you ever bothered to become an eager adventurer of the dungeon, taking on extreme life or death risks for the sake of a couple of gems and coins— and even possibly nothing but the sweet satisfaction of taking down a formidable foe.

However, that sweet, delicious taste of victory was not enough to bring food to the table.

Could it be worth the satisfaction that came from telling your tales to other adventurers, to earn their respect? Forget about it.

Because despite how gruesome, treacherous and relentless your stories of your adventures are; they will always just be, and forever will be, tales to them. It could possibly score you a couple hears from the wandering children, with their awe-struck gazes and wild imagination— accompanied by promises and wishes of ‘I want to be just like you one day!’ before getting ushered away by their parents.

 The adults do try their best not to dampen their aspiring dreams, and childlike wonder but you could always tell their non-believing expressions.

However, the masses in hearing range of your tales tell a different story. They only bother to stifle a laugh using the palms of their hands, eagerly whispering to each other. Because, without proof of your vigilant victory; you are nothing but a made-up fool, full of nothing but tales pulled straight from your ass.

In short, you’re full of shit until you can prove it.

You would rather not drag an entire dragon corpse up to the surface, let alone its own skull. It’s too much labor, for a measly pat on the back.

A ‘Good Job!’ is not worth the possibility of you developing either a strain, scoliosis or carpal tunnel— or possibly even all three at once.

It was either, go big or go home.

Or die trying.

You sigh, softly shaking your head around like a tree wishing to drop the fruits of your worrying mind. Gaze drifting across to the rest of the party, who’s mundane conversations fall silent in your ears. You drag your feet reluctantly behind them, watching as your sluggish actions lead to a greater distance. Your usual skip, and pep to your step has long vanished— alongside the great desire for a fresh new adventure.

Your nails scratch at the rocky, rough walls. It left white, powdery streaks along the way. However, the sensation of the constant vibrations being sent through your fingertips quickly began to infuriate you.

You cringe at the feeling, quickly retracting your arm back to your sides— trying to shake off the icky feeling that floods though your skin.

Eerily slow footsteps trailed behind, accompanied by a low, guttural groan that seemed to vibrate through the air. You anxiously patted around your stomach, wondering if your gut was busy (and noisy) complaining. You haven’t necessarily stopped to eat for a good while, so it wasn’t that outrageous for it to suddenly grumble.

However, the sound was unsettling, and you clenched your teeth out of sheer embarrassment, eyes darting towards the rest of the party. They were still a decent distance away, so you crossed your fingers and swore on your heart, hoping they didn’t hear a thing.

Why was it so loud? It echoed, not feeling the typical shake and waver in your stomach as it continued. How long as it really been since you last ate? Minutes? Hours? Days?

Luckily, they all seemed completely unaffected by the sudden sound. It would’ve been shocking— and extremely embarrassing— if they heard your stomach from that far away.

Also, were your footsteps always that dense sounding? You halt for a second, looking below at your footwear— taking a few experimental taps on the floor, and possibly trying a couple of tap-dancing moves that you saw in front of a saloon once.

…

If you were the one up on that stage, you would’ve ended up walking away in shame while covered head to toe in tomatoes.

You stop before anyone ends up becoming the unfortunate fool who turns around and becomes the witness of your… undesirable dance moves. God, what would Kabru think if he saw you?

Disregard that. He’s already, and very unfortunately, been the unlucky witness to your dancing. Back when the music and gleeful chatter of the local festivals was just about enough to get you moving and knocking on his door—wearing your best, flowy attire for the occasion.

 You dragged him out to the central area of the village, your hand clasped around his wrist, looking back occasionally to smile at him out of sheer excitement. The village square was alive with vibrant colors, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the aroma of freshly baked goods. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow on the cobblestone streets.

The music alone suddenly made you want to jump around with glee, stomping around with the little grace you had.

 You couldn't ever forget his face when you first turned your head over your shoulder. You were too busy in your own little world when you tugged him away, but Kabru...

 Oh, Kabru.

He was the most beautiful sight you have ever seen in your entire life.

 Not even the greenest, vastest, and prettiest of valleys full of flowers for miles could rival his face in that moment. Everything stopped; it was as if time and space itself had unanimously agreed to pause for him and him only.

He looked at you, and only you. From his gaze alone, it spoke millions of words. It was a whole confession in itself.

 His eyes were wide, mouth agape, his hair perfectly tussled by the wind, the sun shining bright into his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with a delicate blush, a stark contrast to the golden glow of the setting sun.

 Kabru was like a painting brought to life; a piece of art that is timeless through decades, one that requires to preserved and passed down through generations— due to his beauty alone.

He was being tugged around by his heartstrings, twiddled with by your gentle fingers. His breath hitched with every step, his awe-stricken gaze never leaving your figure despite every stone or pebble he trips up on.  

…

It served as a painful reminder that once in your life, Kabru loved you for you. For the sake of breathing the same air as you— for the sake of merely existing with you. No matter how rough around the edges you are, no matter who you were.

He still loved you once.

Even when you barely knew how to waltz, despite the sheer confidence you had at the beginning as you tugged him toward the heart of the village, joining the bustling crowd full of dancing townspeople.

Even when he had the whole dance engraved in his brain for all his life, he still offered a genuine smile to you as you tumbled and staggered around. His eyes would crinkle at the corners, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, as he watched you fumble with the steps.

Even when your disorganized feet ended up crushing his own under your shoes, or when you fell forward and crashed into his chest after another couple pushed you from behind—he still smiled. His hands, deliberate and gentle, would take yours and guide you through the dance. The warmth of his touch sent chills down your spine, steadying you, grounding you.

He chuckles as he twirls you around by your waist, watching as you struggle to keep up with the pace— but still catching you with his hand pressed into the dip of your back.

Kabru’s patience was infinite, his laughter a consistent cushion to your embarrassment. His presence alone was a comforting.

His eyes downturned, with a gentle and gleeful air to him. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh, cool evening air, which almost drove you insane. One that made you want to kiss him, over and over until his lips turn blue— dragging him by his cheeks towards you until you end up tumbling all over the floor.

Even when the world felt chaotic and your steps were unsure, Kabru’s love was a constant.

He accepted you, not just as his partner, not just as a friend— but accepted you as a person.

He found beauty in your flaws.

But only once.

For now, he has seen the ugly in your flaws.

And you have, too.

Due to you dwelling on your miserable daydreaming, you ended up taking slower and fewer steps than usual. The groans, the dense footsteps that stagger with each step— they don’t stop.

Instead they grow closer,

louder.

Until a pair of hands dig into your shoulders, or more so, whatever is left of its rotten, foul-smelling fingers. The stench surpassed any smell you had ever had the displeasure of smelling. The nails are unruly and unkempt, some already lost to the relentless rot, leaving behind raw, exposed patches of skin on the fingers. It made you gag, feeling it’s intense grip onto your shoulders.

You yelp, lunging forward as you frantically shrug off its deathly grip. Your feet stagger as you began falling forward— your hands catching the floor in front of you in a swift motion. Using your staff for support, you desperately push yourself back onto your feet, twisting your body to face the ghoul. You stagger, feeling yourself struggling to breathe.

 The body it had inhabited was rotten beyond recognition, so decayed that it seemed on the verge of becoming a skeleton. The skin had peeled and melted away, revealing patches of bone beneath. You doubt that the corpse contained any vital organs anymore; it was just a miserable skeleton wrapped in whatever is left of its skin.

With enough fear and adrenaline to kill a man, you raise your staff just high enough to aim straight at its chest. Your grip is firm, though your mind is frazzled beyond measure. Your hands thrust the wooden staff forward, with enough force for it to push against its chest and scoot it backwards. It lets out a loud groan as  you twist it deeper, the sound of fragile bones and skin being crushed beneath it.

 With a quick blast from your staff, it separates the ghost from the unfortunate victim.

The force of the sudden attack was enough to send you flying, you may have overreacted a little. Using an attack meant for larger crowds of more, formidable foes.

Actually, you overreacted a lot.

It only set in fully once you saw yourself inches from the ground, feet set free in the air.

You hit the rough floor with a skidding thud, groaning as you watch the ghost dissipate into the air. The body it had previously possessed falls forward, with an echoing thud. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart still racing from the encounter.

Your face contorts into disgust as you stare at the dead body only inches away from your feet. You use your staff to gently push its face away from letting its empty eye sockets stare back at you, however you soon regret the decision.

The push resulted in a loud cracking noise, which made you wince and scoot away from your current position.

‘Did I end up breaking its neck…?!’ You panic internally.

“Are you okay?” A frantic shriek rips through the air, alongside the quick thud of footsteps that suddenly crowd around you. It was almost cartoonish, to say the least— like mice to a piece of cheese.

Except you’re the cheese that didn’t bother checking your surroundings, despite the obvious sound cues that there was something trailing behind you. You began skimming through the contents of your brain to look out for a good excuse as to why you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

When… That was basically your whole job and responsibility after you chose to stay a great distance behind the party.

“Yeah, just fine. I just got caught off guard, is all.” You try to cushion the throbbing pain in your spine and bottom with gentle laughter, waving your hand around in the air to swat away their worries. It didn’t help to ease their concerned expressions, instead worrying them even more as their frowns and confused faces worsen.

You didn’t bother dwelling on their general reaction, however…

You couldn’t get yourself to ignore the fact that Kabru was the first one to come running to you.

You couldn’t shake off the chill in your spine either, when he suddenly slowed down to trail behind the rest of the party before he could get too close.

‘Curse you, Kabru and your stupid mixed signals …!’

“That was definitely far from ‘just caught off guard,’ with that powerful of a blast, you could’ve ended up wiping out an entire army of ghouls...!” Rin gawks at your nonchalant behavior, overriding her usual scowl etched onto her face. Her eyebrows soften, turning upwards as she leaves her jaw wide open. She was genuinely concerned. Which honestly shocked you more than the ghoul did.

Maybe she should keep the scowl.

She is way too beautiful when she isn’t scowling.

“I do admit that I overreacted to the situation.” You flutter your eyes shut, chuckling. “But to be honest, I just got really shocked when it suddenly grabbed me.” Your gaze averts away from their prying eyes, your nails digging and scratching the soft skin in the nape of your neck.

You really, really wished that you hadn’t defended yourself in that moment. Instead, you wished that you had instead been killed by that same ghoul.

Just so you wouldn’t have to sit there pathetically as they all stared at your embarrassed misery. You understood their concern, but it honestly tore you into shreds as your whirring mind fed more and more degrading comments into your self-conscious.

And you hated it.

You hated every second of it.

It was no secret to you that you had always secretly wished to find yourself in this exact situation. The strange, deep warmth in your heart grew stronger when they gather around you. Their concerned gazes, the way their lips curved downwards in worry, and their comforting grasps that made your heart race. Alongside that one stare that pierced through you, reaching down to your very bones.

You once secretly yearned to be vulnerable in front of them, to finally command their undivided attention. It was a bittersweet wish that you, unfortunately, craved deeply during those lonely nights.

But once it finally happened to you, the feeling of déjà vu was sickening. It was bitter and distasteful, a moment that only filled you with raged as they all caught you red handed with your tail between your legs (and your unfortunately sore butt cheeks). It made you angry, and it makes you so much more frustrated not knowing why.

Could it have been the possibility of them doubting you?

Could it have been you interpreting their concern as them looking down on you?

Or could it all just have been the look on Kabru’s face?

This distant gaze, unreasonably unreadable and filled with stoic indifference— stayed monotone throughout the entire time. His lips pressed into a firm, unyielding line. His eyes half-lidded, unfocused as it represented his evident detachment as he stared down below to look at your form sprawled out on the cold floor. Though buried in the crowd of others, his presence lingering in the back, he still stood out the most.

With what little time you allotted for yourself to stare, you still found yourself digging around his cold expression— desperate to get a taste of, even a sliver of concern on his face.

…

And to your, fortunate?

…Unfortunate?

Let’s stick to unfortunate.

…

To your unfortunate dismay, you did.

The typical person would have never read through his stoic expression right in the moment, nor even put too much thought into his— currently irrelevant— presence.

But you?

Oh, you could see right through him. Beyond all his superficial 'people-pleaser, number one manipulation tactic' masks that he uses to puppet himself through and into people’s hearts, there was always a sliver of a crack that you could stare into.

That one figurativecrack you always seemed to be drawn to, one that dug in so deep that it leads straight into his heart and soul.

You can’t seem to stop yourself from diving back into old habits.

You found yourself lost in the maze of conflicting emotions swirling within the deep hue of his eyes. His intense, half-lidded eyes locked onto yours with an almost desperate focus— lost in time and in the deep sea of your own gaze.

His lips quivered but only slightly. One that made you think that he had the urge to speak out, to ask if you’re okay. But his voice falls silent by his tongue, full of words that never seem to dare go past his lips.

Kabru’s face, oh his face.

His eyes downturned and heavy with unspoken words, softened the moment you met his stare, creating an unspoken connection that lingered in the air between you.

It made you so irrationally angry.

It made you want to curse at the gods above for ever granting you the ability to connect with him more than anyone else would. The ability to read and break through his charades as the fool, and instead see him as himself.

It felt like a curse right in this moment.

But why?

Isn’t this what you had always wanted?

It was. It really was.

You hated that he still cared. You hated it so much. You hated it so much to the point that you wanted to kill him, to skin him— to gut him from the inside out. You wanted him to just explode right in that moment. The fact that he cared, and the fact that you’ll always and forever will know that he does.

...You hated how it made you feel.

You hated the sudden racing pace of your heartbeat, the way it rung in your ears like a distant drum. You hated the sudden numbness that possesses each nerve in your body, limb to limb. You hated the way your head spun, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.

You clench your teeth, lips sealed together to prevent yourself from baring them. Squeezing your eyes shut in desperation, opening them to keep your gaze locked onto anyone— anything but him.

Luckily, your eyes met with an outstretched palm— tearing your gaze away from the rigid floor, you found yourself looking into the concerned eyes of Holm.

His eyes were soft, reflecting a genuine worry that contrasted with the cold, unforgiving surroundings. You sighed, offering him a small, grateful smile before hesitantly placing your hand in his. With a firm tug, he helped you back onto your feet, his strength steadying you as you staggered back up.

As you dust yourself off free from any dirt, Holm provides you with a couple of pats in the dip of your back.

“But seriously though, how come you didn’t notice? If it was that close to you for it to be able to grab you, you should have heard it coming. I doubt it was that close in the first place …” Holm teases, shrugging his shoulders as he stares at you from the side. The rest of the party unanimously agree with his sentiment, suddenly growing more and more suspicious over your situation.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fumbling with the fabric of your shirt. “I was… lost in thought for a bit. I wasn’t paying too much attention to my surroundings, must be the fatigue getting to me.”

You look back down, flinching as your feet instinctively shuffle away from the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, an insatiable itch settling down your throat full of prickly unease. Goosebumps rise on your skin, the unsettling reality finally seeping into you. The body lies still and inanimate, haunting you.

“Is there any chance to… revive that guy?” Mickbell winces, taking a couple careful steps backwards. He accidentally backs up and into Kabru’s chest, who places his hands on his shoulders and gently redirects him.

"It's possible... but at this point, I doubt there's any hope for him. His bind to his soul is so weak, and his physical body is rotten beyond recognition. It would take a lot of calories and meat to basically rebuild all his missing parts, not to mention that he already feels hollow inside." You sigh, running your hand through the stray hairs that obscure your vision.

You use the butt of your staff to roll the corpse over to lay on its back, wincing at the thick ‘thump!’ sound that comes from the body. You deliberately pull back at the bottom of his shirt, rolling it upwards as the inner skeleton and ribs show itself to you. The organs are disgustingly missing.

"Putting him out of his misery is pointless since his soul will always stay trapped inside this dungeon. Taking him to the surface for a proper burial won't honor anything because we don't have anything to properly identify the body..." you mumble. You recall the pads of his fingertips, either completely lacking skin or scarred to the point of interfering with the fingerprints.

Mickbell shifts uneasily, rolling a pebble from beneath his boot. "So... we just leave him here then?" He grimaces, his expression worsening the longer he stares at the decaying body.

"Sounds like the best option. Though we should at least cast a ward on him, so he doesn't get possessed again by a ghost, and let's cast some on ourselves for protection," Kabru suddenly speaks up. His voice is calm but firm, acting as a beacon of hope to lift the spirits of his party members. It took every cell and atom in your body not to roll your eyes, hating how mature he has become in time.

Kabru suddenly turns his head to face Holm, eyes wide and expectant, the urgency evident in his gaze. His eyes dart back and forth between Holm and the body, as if silently pleading with the gnome to understand his wordless request. Kabru tilts his head subtly, giving a nudge in the direction of the corpse. It was obvious he didn’t want to ask you to place the charms, despite his endless knowledge of your capabilities.

However, Holm throws his hands in the air as he shrugs off the sudden implications. He plays it off, acting completely oblivious at his desperate pleas.

“What are you looking at me for?”

Kabru’s confident stance wavers, the corner of his eye twitches as he tries to redirect the situation into one he deems is correct. As he always did.  

“Holm. Don’t you know how to…?” His voice is hesitant, almost mirroring a shaking fist as his soft voice tries to carry over the urgency and weight of the situation to Holm.  

“Huh? No, absolutely not. I’m not at all knowledgeable about those kinds of spells. If I tried, I’d probably end up casting a spell that attracts spirits to the body instead of warding them away,” Holm comments with a nonchalant shrug, his tone casual and dismissive. He rides off Kabru’s growing frustration with amusement.

It was a priceless moment, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Kabru struggle to maintain his composure. You could almost see the exasperation radiating off him, picturing him internally throwing his head back, hands pressed to his face, and groaning in sheer frustration. The contrast between Holm's relaxed attitude and Kabru's barely contained and growing irritation was comical.

“Aren’t you like, a gnome? You’re the second leading race in the growing studies of magic education.” Kabru barks back, his polite tone wavering under the frustration. He grits his teeth beneath his smile, as if by saying that— Holm would magically learn the spell for it with the snap of his fingers. Or a page from your old grimoire would fall out, and Holm would read it for the 10 seconds it would be on the floor— then learn it.

“Hey, just because I am gnome doesn’t mean I should know everything!” Holm rebuked, a soft pout spreading on his lips as he did. He spreads his palms out, arms pressed as he waves his hands in defense for his lack of knowledge in that area.

Kabru remains to smile, however it was quite obvious to everyone that it was fake. His technique at hiding his irritation was faltering the more he began desperate to turn this situation into a favorable one. You could sense the race to his impending defeat, just from the sight of his strained expression.

His neck crooked as he suddenly turns to Rin, almost as if he were on his knees as he looked at her with pleading eyes— a last minute attempt to spindle this situation back into the strings under his control. “How about you, Rin?”

Rin blushes, much to your dismay. Dismissively turning her face away from him, scowling as her gaze instead dives into the world of the mossy dungeon walls. In response, she tucks an arm under her chest— the other making itself busy as it twirls her long, jet-black hair.

“I’m only skilled at offensive magic. My healing is only as good as any beginner mage, just the basics.” She replied with a scoff, almost hinting that she wished she knew how— to be able to please Kabru and his desperate attempts to avoid you. If you were in her shoes in that moment, you would probably immediately fold and worship the ground he walks on.

Could you blame yourself for that though? As irritating his face could be, he looked so pathetic and desperate!

…

You cringe at your own thoughts.

“How about…” Kabru’s voice falters, his head snapping around in a frantic search. He locks eyes with Mickbell, then Kuro, and finally Daya, each of them turning their heads with a speed that seemed almost otherworldly. Daya crosses her arms in a firm ‘X’, her stance a clear, unspoken denial.

“Of course not,” Kabru mutters to himself, his frustration evident now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed closed tightly as his eyebrows furrow, and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. His shoulders slump, and his hand rests on his hip as he begins to accept his defeat. It was clear now: there was no escape from you, and the weight of that realization settled heavily on him.

It all led back to you.

“C’mon! We finally got Y/N back in the party anyway, no need to worry about being harassed by ghouls. They know how to.” Mickbell threw his arms behind his back, walking up to Kabru to nudge him using his hip— trying to pull the male out of his defeated, slumped form.

“But...”

“No buts! The longer we take down here, the less time we have before another Ghoul pulls up on us!”

Kabru sighs. “Fine.”

His shoulders roll back into his typical confident stance, taking a deep breath for courage before finally looking back up at you. You’re dumbfounded, not thinking that the comedic scene would end up back into your hands like a… Game of ‘Hot Potato'.

You shuffle on your feet, feeling the sudden weight of responsibility on your shoulders. “So, Who’s first..?”

For some reason, the entire party (minus Rin, who seemed to have missed out on the memo) turns their heads toward Kabru in a perfectly choreographed movement. It was as if they had rehearsed this moment, their collective gaze ganging up on him on instinct.

Dare you even say, out of habit.

Rin, meanwhile, stands there looking dumbfounded, her eyes widening as she realizes she’s the only one still focused on you.

Kabru freezes, his face momentarily blank as he cushions his nervousness with a chuckle.

“No, no. I cannot…” he stammers, shaking his head vigorously in a futile attempt to dismiss the sudden peer pressure from his party members. His eyes dart around the hallway, searching desperately for an escape route.

“Daya! How about you? Ladies first!” Kabru exclaims, his voice dripping with desperation as he insists with a firm determination. He sprints behind the dwarven blonde, his hands gripping her shoulders. He shuffles her toward you, as if trying to nudge her into taking his place, his frantic actions seemingly feeding into Daya’s bemused expression.

“Don’t you al—” Daya starts, but is immediately silenced by his gloved hand. He laughs, trying to save himself by staring back into the other eyes of his teammates. Which, also made no impact as they all seemed to be unwilling.

Kabru groans internally, which he could curl up and die in that moment. Or, kill everyone and all possible witnesses to his vulnerable fear of interacting with you again.

Talking to you? Fine.

Looking at you? Fine.

You, touching him? He draws the line there.

But he can’t run away from the situation that he set up himself anymore. Instead he slumps his shoulders, dragging his feet as he makes his way in front of you. “Make it quick.” He whispers, aware of your tense shoulders.

You take a deep breath— your hands trembling slightly as you press your fingers against his forehead. The warmth of his skin contrasts sharply with the coldness of your touch, and you could feel him shiver beneath your palm. He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists as he tries to steady himself.

He could feel your breath on his face.

“Lifgant, Ardinbam” You mumble, feeling the soft tingle of mana flow through your veins and out your fingertips. To an outsider, it might seem like nothing is happening—no visible cues to indicate the spell's progress. Only the caster can truly understand what was going on, a magical sensation that could only ever be felt and remain unseen.

You hands lift off from the skin of his forehead, now instead firmly pressing up against his chest. Once you were sure that the blessing had been set in place properly, you gently halt the flow of mana, lifting your hands with a careful hesitation. Your fingertips graze over the worn leather of his chest plate, brushing lightly over his chest before withdrawing.

Your fingers curl back to your side, retreating from his chest with deliberate care. The subtle warmth of the magic lingers in the air, a faint, almost imperceptible residue of the spell’s power. As you let your hands fall, the delicate trace of magic remains, a barely-there whisper of the enchantment that has just been cast.

“All done,” you whisper, your voice breathless and soft. You take a step backward, your movement deliberate, allowing him the space he needs as you just partook in a… awfully weird and intimate moment with him.

Was it really though? You dare to question, but you can’t get yourself to ignore the roaring pang or desire that struck through your heart. Kabru hesitates in his movement, as if waiting for one last thing out of habit. You usually kissed him after. But, after keeping his stance and his eyes closed for a couple moments longer— he pulls away.

“Thank you,” Kabru slurred, his voice barely audible— it was gruff, as if all the saliva in his throat and mouth had dried up in that moment. He coughs, attempting to redo his comment to be able to say it smoothly in a second try.

“I mean, Thank you.” He echoes, meeting your gaze for a fleeting second before quickly turning away, retreating behind the others as if seeking refuge from the sudden vulnerability of the moment.

You extend a hand with a gentle wave, signaling for the next person in line to step forward. The gesture is both practical and reassuring, a silent invitation for them to come closer. Mickbell excitedly jumps up, almost completely compressing himself and scrunching his body mid-air— like a coiled spring. He almost stumbles over completely as he makes his way towards you, using his hand as a way to keep himself upright and avoid accidentally crashing into the floor.

The rest of the party, including you— chuckle at his eagerness to receive a simple blessing. The shared laughter lightens the mood, a welcome break from the tension. His eagerness, though a bit amusing, is endearing, and it brings a moment of relief to the group. You don’t ever wish to have it any other way.

Never in a million, no, a billion years.

It sparked a new happiness in your heart, a little hope that life may look better in the future. That maybe, just maybe— losing once is not the end of the world. Because in the long run, even the smallest of details (like Mickbell almost faceplanting into the floor, which you had to admit got a little chuckle out of you) would make you happy.

After all, simple joys in life can go a long way.

And maybe It was all you ever needed.

…

Though, It makes you begin to realize; this journey will take a lot longer than you thought it would.

What once was a ‘couple of days’ seemed to stretch out into weeks, and possibly for longer.

Though, it might not be as bad as you make it out to be.

A little hope wont hurt anybody.

.・。.・゜✭・ TAGLIST !

@sy1v30n @whatamidoing89 @meerpea @pop-ee104 @starriejin @valerayne @mshope16 @stefnarda @lovin-past @slightly-lonely-jonesy @auhokvam

and the lotlt spotify playlist!!!!! ♡ open to song suggestions ;p

[planetxiao]

# SOMEBODY TOLD ME

𖤐 niko ikki ; isagi yoichi ; itoshi rin x reader

⟢ fluff, lil bit of crack, college au, scenarios // rumor has it that you’re dating your best friend, the star of your university’s soccer team. how do they react to you not denying it?

As you and your best friend were on your way to the bus stop after class, a group of people approached you with a rather interesting question.

"Hey, there's a rumor that you two are dating. Is it true?"

𖤐 NIKO IKKI

Niko froze. The question had completely caught him off guard, this being the first he had heard of it, as well as it pertaining to your relationship with him. He knew that he had garnered some attention from being called the "star" of the university's soccer team, but he hadn't thought much of it at all.

He couldn't even take a glance at you to gauge your reaction, knowing that if he did, his cheeks would burn even hotter than they already were. His heartbeat rang in his ears as the organ thrummed against his ribcage painfully; he worried it was so loud that you could've heard it. To have someone else pose this question while he hadn't even worked up the courage to ask you yet — it felt like a cruel joke from God.

He kept his mouth closed as he lowered his gaze, deciding to let you handle this messy situation. He wondered how you'd answer, though he was sure it wouldn't play out in his favor. After all, he hadn't thought there was even a chance that you'd return his feelings.

But, to his surprise, he felt the tickle of your skin against his palm. You slid your hand into his hold, interlocking your fingers and giving him a slight squeeze. He gasped quietly, sea green eyes widening and peeking through his bangs to see your soft smile.

"Yep, it's true!" You exclaimed, a small giggle escaping your throat.

The crowd grew antsy, whispers carrying through the air as you led Niko through them. He paid no mind to the people around him, too wrapped up in the honeyed words that left your mouth seconds ago.

You didn't deny it at all. You did the exact opposite. And he couldn't figure out why. Well, more accurately, he wouldn't accept the reason he knew to be the only plausible one.

Niko’s mind wouldn't stop replaying the scene in his head while he let you drag him along to your destination. It was then that he realized how warm your hand felt in his, and how much he truly yearned to hold it forever.

But before he got too ahead of himself, Niko halted his steps. At the small resistance, you turned to him with a tilt of your head. Niko took a deep breath, dropping his gaze back down to the ground.

"Why didn't you deny it?" He asked, attempting to hide the shake in his voice.

Silence hung in the air for a couple seconds — the longest seconds of Niko's life — before you uttered the words that Niko had always hoped to hear.

"Because I like you, dummy."

𖤐 ISAGI YOICHI

Isagi never knew the feeling of his heart catching in his throat until that moment. Each syllable that had curled within the girl’s seemingly taunting smile weighed heavy on his chest like stones. He felt as if his biggest secret had been revealed, and depending on his answer, it very well could have been.

His cheeks immediately blossomed a rosy color, eyes widening and mouth falling open slightly. How was he supposed to react to this?

He was less concerned with the fact that people had been speculating things about him behind his back, and more so with how the topic of the hearsay had to do with you; not to mention, it was something so embarrassing.

He wondered what you thought of all this. Were you as embarrassed as he was? Was the confrontation making you uncomfortable? Did the thought of dating him disgust you? But when his gaze flit to you, he couldn't decipher any answers from your slightly owlish expression. He could only guess what ran through your head — while also admiring the way your parted lips looked ever so soft and your eyes shimmered with golden curiosity. Whatever Isagi had inferred made his stomach lurch. He better fix this quick.

“Ah-“ He started, but the words evaporated from his tongue as the question echoed in his mind once again.

A pregnant silence permeated the air unbearably, occupying the space Isagi had planned on using to dispel the problem. Though only for fleeting seconds, Isagi felt time pass like interminable hours. He knew what he needed to do — what he should’ve said — but his heart made no motion to follow through with the action.

That's when you hummed, the sweet sound alone causing butterflies to flutter within his system with fervor.

"Mhm, definitely!"

Huh?

Did you just confirm you two were dating? Even though he hadn't asked you yet?

His head snapped to you, mouth sputtering open and closed like a fish. What were you doing? You had to know that answering like that would drive him insane. Or else, why would you say that?

When greeted with your endearing closed-eyed smile, Isagi's thoughts began spiraling more rapidly. Through his internal predicament, he failed to notice the crowd dispersing, satisfied with the information they had been provided.

His fixed gaze had been shaken by the sound of your small laugh, finding his expression rather amusing.

"C'mon Yoichi," You teasingly poked the tip of his nose, "We're gonna miss the bus."

But Isagi didn't move; rather, when you turned on your heel, his hand grasped your wrist quickly.

"Wait."

Isagi gulped. He needed clarity on the situation that just unfolded. There was no way he could continue normally after what had just happened. At least, not without finding out why you had done what you did.

"Why did you tell them we're dating?" He asked.

With an innocent gaze, you answered, "Why not? I mean, I like you a lot, Yoichi.”

Isagi's breathed hitched in his throat. The familiar scarlet color returned to his face, trailing all the way up to his ears. Your confession was one he yearned for longer than he'd care to admit, and yet it simply didn't feel real.

He knew he had to say something back, but his brain had turned to mush, leaving him to flounder amongst the sea of words he wished to say.

All he could muster was, "O-Oh. That's good, 'cause I feel the same."

A giggle had escaped your lips at how shy he had become. You had already figured that out, but to save him the embarrassment, you decided to keep it to yourself. Though, you had to admit, red was a nice color on him.

𖤐 ITOSHI RIN

It was not uncommon to see Rin's disinterest etched rather clearly in his eyes when he was approached for something so unnecessary. How a mere rumor, lacking the foundation of truth nor mirth, could entertain so many was lost on him. Especially when it was none of their business — even more so, that it was his own.

Though he showed his disdain for the subject, it was nothing he wasn't used to. As the star of the university team, Rin was constantly the talk of campus. He gained immense popularity for his looks, as well as his skill, but his apathy toward it was resounding; you had felt the way it colored his aura so strikingly, you were surprised no one else noticed. Or, perhaps, that's what drew people to him.

In any case, Rin remained unbothered as he was presented with the question. It was you, instead, whose jaw had almost dropped to the floor.

You had quite the crush on the soccer player, and though you tried keeping your cool, it seemed you weren't hiding it well. The inquiry had, truthfully, caught you off guard; you hadn't ever thought of the possibility of such an inference being made about yours and Rin's relationship.

Admittedly, you didn't hate it. It was quite the opposite, actually.

So, you schemed: just a fun little joke to tease the stoic man.

"Yup! He's all mine, right my love?"

You really thought your obnoxious answer would earn you an eye roll, a scoff, a dismissive comment, something from him. But Rin didn't say anything. Actually, you could've sworn there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. But, before you could say for certain, he had turned around with intent to continue his trek to the bus stop.

"Let's go," He had said before taking his first step away from the gawking crowd.

You blinked. What was that?

That did not go how you thought it would at all. But, all you could do was follow behind Rin with eyes that could revel the moon. What did this all mean? Usually, he would've told you to shut up and in his own way denied that the rumor was true; this time, he just... walked away? Did you piss him off?

"Uh, Rin?" You started, matching his stride as best as you could, "You didn't deny what I said... or tell me to shut up. Are you feeling ill?"

He glanced down at you, as if analyzing your expression, before asking something that made your heart jolt.

"Is that what you wanted?"

It felt as if the oxygen filling your lungs had promptly dissipated, leaving you struggling to breathe. You truly did not know how to answer. He had to be messing with you or something.

Your gaze flit to your shoes as your brows knitted together, wondering what was even going on inside his head.

"Well, not exactly..."

"Then I don't see the problem."

You nearly choked.

You pondered on it all the way to the bus stop with gaze trained on the passing pavement. Was this his way of getting back at you? You couldn’t understand how your small attempt at teasing Rin ended with you hiding your burning cheeks.

Whatever it was, you were tired of being embarrassed. You turned to face him with slightly puffed cheeks and a finger poking his chest.

"Okay, Itsoshi Rin, stop messing with me. What the hell is going on?"

This was when you expected Rin to fess up and stop this whole conflicting charade, but instead, you were met with a deadpanned expression.

“We’re dating now, idiot.”

note: it’s like each part just got longer so i apologize for them not being the same length djbdje also this is my rin debut so i hope he’s not too ooc ehe

[vendetta-if]

Kinda along the lines of "if MC's family put a hit out on them", suppose an heir!MC went power-hungry (Or paranoid) and put a hit out on people, what would be the reactions of everyone (ROs, Yvette, Luka, Gramps) if they were the one that MC put the bounty on.

Ash

Would be utterly devastated. They'd probably fight off all of the hitmen's attempts and burn their way back to MC. Once they're finally face-to-face with MC, they'd just ask them the reason behind all of this and ask them to kill them themself. If there's anyone they'd rather die to, it would be by MC's hands and in MC's arms.

Rin

Would be seething in cold fury. There'll probably some hints of sadness and sorrow because they really thought they can trust MC, but that is eclipsed by the rage of the betrayal. Probably never going to be able to fully trust anyone else outside of their family for the rest of their life.

They'd pay MC the same courtesy, putting even higher bounty on MC's head. It'd be an all out war between the Morozovs and the Aikawas, no matter how good of a friendship Luka has with Takashi. It would be such a Pyrrhic victory for whichever family left standing that the result might as well be mutually assured destruction.

Santana

Would be devastated and in despair. Probably going to just give up and wait for their fate. After all, what else can they do? They're not good in combat, their power can't help them, they don't have any connections or resources that can get them out of the city or to safety.

Their only wish is to be able to meet MC again for one last time and ask them why are they doing this? Santana is a nobody compared to MC and their family, considering them a threat is laughable. Should've just told them if MC is now bored of them instead of this.

Skylar

Would be in disbelief and in denial. There's no way MC would do this to them, right? It must've been villains they have fought who got away and now hold grudge against them.

With their dual powers, it would be easier for them to fight off the hitmen. But also, they'd probably fly up directly to whatever ivory tower MC resides in, phase through and try to clarify it with MC.

But once MC makes it clear that it is indeed them, Skylar's just brokenhearted, disappointed, upset, and a lot of other mix of emotions. They swear they would be the one who take MC down, no matter how many years it would take, before taking off and leaving.

Luka

Honestly, for the first few weeks, he probably wouldn't know what to do and is probably shutting down emotionally from the overwhelming stress and grief. He doesn't understand why MC would betray him like this; he has sacrificed his youth to raise and take care of MC and he thought he was doing a good job. He also doesn't want to hurt MC because he cares for them and he promised his brother.

Thankfully for him, he's got a hitman with powerful ability as his boyfriend. Jackal, upon finding out about all of this, would be livid and curse out MC for being an ungrateful brat. He's basically the only thing anchoring Luka and he tries his best to protect him and to keep him from spiraling even further.

But in his heart, he swears, once everything starts to die down and Luka is somewhere safe, he will hunt down MC, even if Luka will end up hating him. Luka might've made a promise not to harm MC and to always keep them safe to Viktor, but Jackal has never made such promise to anyone so far.

So, yeah, the probability of MC getting rid of Luka through bounty is pretty slim considering he has Jackal, who has spent most of his life surviving the same ordeal. And not only Jackal's haemokinesis is really strong, but Luka's own teleportation ability makes him a very hard man to catch.

Grandpa

Deep sorrow... and emptiness. He knows what he has to do, for the sake of his only remaining son and for himself... It's probably the hardest decision he has--and probably will--ever make in his entire life, but in the end, he knows it's necessary.

Grandpa can be stone cold--even more than he already is--when he purposefully shut down his emotions and repress his feelings, and that will be what he does for MC. Even though MC might be the heir and probably de facto head of the family in Elysium City, the old man still has a lot of sway, respect, and fear among the members of the family and some of the city's elites and officials. Especially the branch in New York, it is still under his control.

He would declare MC a traitor and start to try turn MC's own people against them--probably not all, probably some decide to stay loyal to MC, probably some just see more opportunities to rise through the ranks under MC's leadership... But the number of those who do side with Grandpa would not be small and there will probably be some kind of internal civil war within the family.

He would also put a bounty for MC's head, higher than the bounty MC put on him and he would also immediately cut off any of the family's companies that are not directly under MC's name, effectively cutting off MC's supplies of money and resources as well.

In a battle of attrition, Grandpa would probably win, plus he’ll constantly surround himself with the strongest and most loyal of his men, and with his own power allowing people to do as he commands, it is going to be really hard to kill him.

Yvette

Would be scared for her life and depending on whether you reconcile with her or not, it can be either a sense of acceptance or a sense of regret. Maybe she’s just reaping what she sowed; after all, it is already some sort of miracle that she can even live this long without any problem despite having pissed off the Morozovs.

And now, after years of being under Viktor’s protection,of course, it’s going to be their chid who’s finally had enough. She knows she has no chance of fighting or even simply confronting MC.

Her strength has never lied in combat and her powers have always been used more as support, and now, as she’s getting older, she has started to pass her prime. But what she can do is use her powers to get away and escape encounters.

Maybe she’ll leave the city if she can, but she honestly doesn’t know what to do after—or how long can she keep evading these hitmen.

[mama-ino]

Storm

The roar of the downpour struck fiercely on the stone of the cave entrance, "Stay here." He entered the cave, golden eyes taking in the cave. Straw was on the floor. However, it had likely been there quite some time.

Thunder boomed loudly, causing the small Rin to shriek. He returned to them, "Is it safe?"

He nodded, Shippo sniffed around, "People have been here before." Again, Sesshomaru nodded, "Is there anywhere mama can get out of her wet clothes?"

He seemed to think for a moment, looking her over. She was soaked. He pulled the tassles of his armor, pulling the large cauldron armor over his head. He took the long obi like bow from his middle tying it up, "Hang your clothing. This one will find something to burn," he removed his haori, placing it across the makeshift line like a curtain.

"How bad did the rain get you, Rin," she asked softly.

"Rin is pretty dry, Lady Kagome!"

Shippo shook his tail and pulled off his small fur. Her pointed gaze had him speak, "My fur kept me pretty dry, Mama."

Just about to round the would-be curtain he eyes met his, "Are you going far?"

"I will not." She nodded satisfied with his words, "Miko." His eyes pointedly shifted to the large pelt he'd set down, "it is dry."

However, when he'd returned, he found Rin wrapped up. His eyes met blue when she peeked around his haori, shifting nervously under his gaze. He built a small fire as Rin came to his side, "My lord?"

"Hm?"

"When Rin gets older," she began, "Rin wants big boobs like Lady Kagome!"

"Rin," she shrieked as Shippo choked on his own spit.

She beamed at him, "Rin." His voice seemed quieter, "That is not within this one's control."

She seemed to think a moment, bounding back over to Kagome, "Lady Kagome!"

"Rin-chan! I can't do that either!"

"Awwww," Rin pouted.

He pulled off his wet inner robe, setting it on a stone facing the fire to dry. He lifted the large pelt rounding the makeshift curtain, a soft gasp quickly escaping her.

Her hands cover her chest, eyes quickly darting away. His eyes briefly catching the boy's fur across her legs, "Rin." He pointed to the side of the straw, prompting her to stand and wait.

He settled by her, setting the pelt around her and across his lap. "Mama," he neatly curled up on her lap, quite the protective little thing.

He opened his arms, head nodding to Rin, who quickly settled onto the fur across his legs. Rin rubbed her small cheek against his wrist, settling.

The warm air, the heavy rain, and low rumbles of thunder quickly had the atmosphere calm. Her head bobbed as she fought sleep but ultimately settled on his shoulder.

His eyes darted to the sleeping woman. She was complimenting his like this. His chest swelled with pride. While it did take her longer, she did fall asleep. Trusting him to keep them safe.

He slowly reached, arm wrapping around the pelt and her pulling her closer. She was warm, and while he would never admit it out loud... she was beautiful.

At least not yet.

🫣💕

I love you guys!

I'm replacing the fan and ram (possibly more things) on my computer, so hopefully, I can get back to some digi stuff soon!

Also sorry am late!

[od4saku]

Itoshi Rin is beginning to think that he is only good at wasting time.

Another day has passed with little to no contact between the two of you. Fingers thrum against a desk, occupying the vacancy that was once filled by your things: a laptop with a star sticker in the corner, a shoddy mouse, a book you'd raved to him about just a week before. He hadn't listened then— he'd give anything to get a chance, now.

The empty space eats away at him. There are only fragments of you left, and he thinks that hurts the most. Not your absence, but the falsity of your presence. The pillow on your side of the bed is still indented from where you used to lay your head at night (from however long ago it was last used— Rin doesn't remember when you stopped sleeping over.) An empty vase sits on his bedside table. You used to buy flowers for it; a new selection every month, though your favorites were always carnations. A candle you left on the desk is sitting lonesome in the corner. The wick is burnt to a stub, curled like an ashen rib, contrasting the stark white of the jasmine-scented wax. The glass jar rises far higher than the wax. It's an old, well-loved possession, and the fragrance carries even without it being lit, and painfully, it reminds him of you.

It all does. Everything in this room, everything in this apartment. In this life, even. He smells jasmine in the wind, and he sees the flowers you used to bring home in boutiques and growing wild on the sides of streets. He sees your outline in every passing stranger. The curl of your smile shows itself to him in the curves of smoke that rise from his manager's cigarettes. Words swirl and spin, on pages and on phones, and he hears them all in your voice.

He is resentful. It's a vile thing, the feeling in his gut. His liver swells with hurt and grief. His stomach pulls and churns. His lungs are heavy with smoke, from breathing in every bit of your shadow he could find. Oh, but he is angry, angry more than anything. Angry at himself. Rin didn't have to miss you— this loneliness, the kind that clings to your skin like ash— he didn't have to feel it. A knot has been settled in his stomach since you left. He feels encased in wax, a thousand stone heavier and smothered by the smell of fragrant flower and something burning.

Rin cannot help the hatred he feels for himself, making its home in his heart. Nestled neatly into the left crater in his chest is a sordid bundle of feelings that burn like a forest met with a match. Smoldering deeper and deeper into his ribcage, it flickers with more life than he himself has possessed since you left. Because, truly, it was his fault you were gone, was it not? The confession to himself makes his body ache more, and vile builds up in his throat— he knows he's right. He knows it's him, him, him. The thief of his own joy. You. His light. He'd put out the candle.

Rin remembers how you met. In an unsavory bar, with dim yellow lighting and the uncomfortable presence of drunks with no boundaries, he caught your semi-smile from across the room. He was sober, watching his friends meander around like headless chickens, and he thinks you were in the same position. Laughter creased your cheeks, he observed even though he couldn't hear, as you laughed at something your rosy-cheeked friend said. He followed you with his eyes, watching your fingers curl around her shoulders, pulling her close. Affection, love. His mind wandered; he mulled how might it feel to be on the receiving end. And he blinked, and then you were looking at him. A deer in headlights, he'd tried to turn, but you were already on your way— and he'd already seen your smile. So brilliant, so blinding. He was already gone, just hadn't realized it. (A candle, lit. Glass jar full to the top. Fresh off the shelf— faintly smelling of jasmine.)

The way he loved you was something different. A hot, heavy love. It bruised and left marks, blossoms of black and blue on his pale neck and collarbone. A fire in his belly and stars in his eyes. He loved you like an alcoholic loves a bar, like a fisherman loves the moon. A savior, a salve, a saint. Oh, he loved you something violent. A gross dependency, an addiction to your warmth. He needed you to sink into his skin, to burn his flesh so he’d be scarred with your heat forever. He wanted to smell like your smoke, and jasmine. To feel his lungs ache with the burden of ashes. Like no other, he loved you. He loves you. He never stopped. He’d never stop. He’s never told you— doesn’t think he can— but he would never stop. The sun sets outside the window to his right, filtering through the half-drawn blinds. The rays of molten gold hit his arm and the edge of the desk he sits at, slumped. The wood glows with a cold, impersonal light. A little fragment reflects off the corner of the candle’s glass jar, sending a piece of light dancing against the wall behind Rin. He swears that even the sunlight itself is colder without you to be lit up by it.

Ironically, he shivers. The fog glazing Rin’s mind fades a little and he’s forced to consider the time— it’s not late, but it’s been days since he last slept. He has practice in the morning. A foul churning makes itself known in his gut— practice. Lately, it’s been all he’s done. It’s always been that way, truthfully, but with you he felt more free. When he had you, he could push it aside, just for a little. When your relationship had begun, he didn’t need to care about much else. But eventually, time waned on. The candle burned, and the wax dissipated into gas, and his profession returned to the forefront of his mind. It had never really left, only been sidelined for a short while. But when this priority had resurfaced, he’d pushed everything else aside for it. All his other necessities lay forgotten, like a grandmother’s antiques after her passing. Left to collect dust in an insensitive relative’s attic. He forgot about eating, and sleeping, and you. The things that really mattered, gone. Ambition was his downfall in the end. Now he had it— he was back on top of his field, back in the lead, in charge. But he had burned you out. All that was left of you were the scars— ones that he had savored at some point. Now, they were just a reminder of what he didn’t have.

You tried your hardest, he can see in hindsight. A warm, home cooked meal would often wait for him in his apartment when he returned late from practice. You offered him anything— a massage, space, warmth, a home. You gave him everything. And he took it. He was hot-wired and burning, electric. Too gone to appreciate you, too bothered to give you peace. To say thank you. To return the favor. And still, you gave him anything you could. The fragments of yourself— the candle, the flowers, the shape of you still indented into his bed— you shifted your life to try and change his. And he remained obstinate and stubborn, stuck in his ways. Leaving early, returning late. Gone before you woke and back after you’d already fallen asleep. It was because of this that Rin didn’t realize you had officially moved out until a week after you’d left, when you’d texted him telling him you’d come to get your things on some foggy Thursday afternoon. He didn’t even notice. That, he thinks, snapped him out of his stupor. His drive, his game, he blanched. Itoshi Rin feels conceited to say that his anger makes his mind a scary place, but it’s the truth. And he has unknowingly made you a victim. His self-loathing had only ever had one person to affect before— himself— he’d never considered it hurting you. He’d never considered that he’d be the reason you burned out.

Today was that foggy Thursday afternoon, and he doesn’t deserve to wait for you like he does. He doesn’t deserve to still love you, not with the same vehemence or passion. The air is heavy in the bedroom of what was once a shared apartment, like smoke lingered, even though no candle had been lit in the week you’d been gone. Silence weighs like a million tons. He blinks, and the desk is still empty, the vase is still barren, the light bouncing off the candle’s glass jar has only shifted a millimeter. No, he doesn’t deserve to care. He doesn’t deserve you. He didn’t choose you, he lost you. He didn’t deserve anything. The rotten bundle in the left side of his chest pulses like it’s pretending to be a heart. He aches something ugly. And Rin almost, almost thinks he’s imagining it when a hesitant knock sounds at the door. He’s not near the entrance— a room away, about— but it’s so deadly quiet in the apartment that the sound carries. He stands and moves, and the smell of jasmine smoke follows. Rin is on autopilot when he opens the door, and he’s even more gone when he sees you. You are even more beautiful than he remembers, he thinks, and he can’t breathe. You’re so pretty when you look at him, but there is mourning in your eyes. Your warmth is not that of a candle, a fireplace, a welcoming, homely heat– you are hot like a funeral pyre. You burn like it hurts. Smile lines hide from your face. The crease by your eyes when you smile isn’t there. Your eyes, in fact, are red. Streaky cheeks and lashes webbed together indicate that you were crying and the excuse of a heart in Rin’s chest goes up in smoke.

He looks at you for a while, eyes flitting across your face, Despite how much it hurts, he drinks in every detail— every pore, every crease, every lack thereof, every single thing. Because it’s been so, so long since he’s seen you— a week— and even longer since he’s really, really seen you. Your lips are chapped. Quickly, your tongue moves to wet them before you open your mouth to speak; he tries not to stare. “I’m here for my things.”

Silence permeates the tension in the air. Thick, thick smoke hangs like a veil, choking the words out of him. He stands in the doorway staring like a statue of a fool. He’s sure he looks pathetic, stupid, even. A frail excuse of a man, of a boyfriend. A person who did not deserve you. Who didn’t see you begging to be seen, to be prioritized, to be chosen. A failure. The knot in his stomach tightens. He can’t stop looking at you, observing the invisible scars he’s left, the pain he sees written in the bags beneath your eyes, the streaks on your face, the hurt he put you through. Every second makes him angrier at himself. If he wasn’t frozen in place, he’s sure his hand would curl into a first so tight that his bones would crack like twigs.

He wonders how long he’s been hurting you for. How long you’ve felt this, this invisible pain. Without saying thank you, without saying he loves you. How much damage has he done? Irreparable, horrible damage. How long has he been doing this for, without even realizing? He thinks back to a couple months ago— a sleepless night.

He can't tell what time it is, but there is no light outside the window and the sky is speckled with faint, distant stars. Silken curtains conceal the moon, if it's even out there. Quietly, Rin moves to sit upright against his pillow, careful as to not wake you. It's so strange, really, because you’re right next to him and that usually leads him to peaceful nights. But he suspects that your company might be the reason for his sudden insomnia tonight.

He tries to make out your figure in the darkness of the room. He can’t fully see you— all he can discern is a silhouette beneath a blanket, a mess of hair falling against the curves and slopes of your face and jaw, and a hand, outstretched. Like you were reaching for him.

Rin's been awake for hours, he suspects. going through the motions of closing his eyes and pretending to sleep isn’t doing anything for him anymore. Listening to your breathing grow soft and slow only served to fuel his racing mind, the myriad of thoughts that kept him awake. You’re on your side and he observes your outline inhale, then exhale. Steadily. Systematically. Soundly. You look so peaceful, like an angel of some kind. A pit grows in his stomach. A nauseating, gnawing feeling. The very same one that’s kept him up. A guilt, he thinks, that is eating him alive.

His vision adjusts to the dark, and it falls on your hand. Your palm, more specifically, which is face up. A small, raw burn scar marks the soft flesh in between your thumb and pointer finger; nothing too big. It almost looks more like a birthmark in this lack of lighting. He winces, a little, as you shift the tiniest bit and push your extended palm closer. His vision focuses even in the dark and he’s forced to take in the true nature of the wound— splotchy, and angry. Red and fresh and beginning to swell a little, and undoubtedly painful. And all of it, his doing.

Rin exhales. He did that to you. It’s his fault you got hurt.

Just a few hours ago, he’d returned home to your shared apartment to you starting dinner. And he’d stupidly bumped into you when moving to wash his hands at the sink, letting you slam into the hot pan with your hand. Only a second of contact was made, and he’d forced you to let him help you bandage and clean the small wound. But the damage was done. He’d hurt you. His hands, your hurt. He burned you.

His eyes travel up your hand, to your arm, to your chest and neck and jaw and then face, where he startles at your open eyes, only one visible from your positioning, shining even in the dark with a mirthful warmth that he’s still unsure of sometimes. “Is the view really that nice?”

His face grows warm at your words, and the rasp that exhaustion adds to your voice. Your playful cadence only serves to ignite his guilt further, like kindling. His jaw tightens and he sees your brows knit together as you read his body language. You shift and pull yourself up with your hands, wincing slightly. He thinks that you think he doesn’t notice.

“What’s wrong, Rin?”

He can’t find the words to express his guilt. How he hurt you. How he was scared that it was only the beginning. How he had so, so much pain, and how he was fated to lash out. How it was only a matter of time. But even he didn’t understand this at the time, so he just choked out a simple, “I burned you.”

You blink. He stares at your hand, unable to meet your eyes. A palm gently touches his shoulder, and then fingertips move down his clothed spine. Your touch is so warm as you pull yourself closer. “You didn’t mean it, babe.”

He just looks at you. Your hand makes its way to the side of his head, and you pull the taller man close, down into your chest. The heat is unbearably kind to him, and he feels himself relax into you even though he doesn’t deserve to. You sigh, and it echoes in his skull. He can hear the steady beat of your heart. Gentle hands massage his scalp.

The guilt surges up again, and he blurts out: “what if it happens again?”

You pause for a beat before continuing your movements. He thinks that you can tell it’s not just about the burn anymore. (Up, down, up, down, switch to the other side of his head.) “It won't.”

“But it might.”

And then you press a smiling kiss to his scalp, and he feels worse and better at the same time— “it’s okay. It’s worth it, if I'm with you. Burn me as much as you like, Rin. I can take it.”

He snaps back to reality when you slide past him, coming closer than you have in weeks. His mouth goes dry at the almost-contact. He watches you walk into the apartment, steps losing speed the further in you get— you’re slow, and deliberate with how you navigate. Like it’s a new environment. Something inside him shatters. Because it’s not new. It’s yours. It’s his and yours and you used to belong here, and now you’re picking out your things. He can’t do anything but watch as you riffle through various drawers in various rooms and pull out various items. He spots a phone charger, a dented metal water bottle, a notebook, a scarf. Things too sentimental to leave behind in a place you didn’t care for anymore, he guesses. Because of course you hate him now. It makes sense— he would, too. Rin feels grotesque. He is a dissonant note, he is the smell of burning plastic. And he just watches you as you prepare to walk out of his life forever, the one person he thinks he can say he loves without lying a little, because of course he is. Of course, because Itoshi Rin is so, too good at wasting time. So yes, he agrees, he would hate him too for what he did to you. For keeping you at arm’s length and expecting you to love him despite it all. He would. He does. (When did he stop feeling bad? When did he stop noticing? When, when, when?)

You walk into the bedroom, and he tails you at a distance. Standing in the doorway, he watches you take it in. The half-drawn shades paired with an almost-vanished sun cast gold lines onto you and the room is uncomfortably warm. You are bathed in gold. You are so, so beautiful. And your eyes fix onto the nearly burned out jasmine-scented candle. Something in your expression shifts. Rin says nothing about the flicker in your eyes. You open the desk drawer, and he half-expects you to pull out another one of your belongings— but it’s a lighter. The long, slim kind, that you keep for candles. You don’t look at him when you say, “might as well, right? It already smells like the gym in here.”

Your words are joking but he knows you’re making an excuse and you know it too. Biding time, is what you're doing, and something so grossly like hope dries out his tongue. You are trying, too. You aren’t ready to let go yet, either. The candle isn’t burnt out yet. There’s still time. You light the candle and the warm smell of jasmine amplifies— there are notes of vanilla, and something sweet like honey, and it’s so much richer than it was when you’d first brought it home. The wick burns and stretches its limits. It’s a matter of minutes before it gives out. It’s a matter of minutes before his chance is gone. Rin is good at wasting time, but maybe he can be better at using it. So he dry swallows the knot in his throat, and speaks.

“I missed you.”

He didn’t know what else to say. It’s so painfully true, his simple, stupid sentence. He missed you. So, so much. You don’t look at him. You watch the candlelight flicker, as if you’re waiting for it to go out.

“Oh,” is all you say.

“I did.” He manages the words out and they are rough with unprocessed emotion and guilt and god, he hates talking about his feelings.

You turn at this, eyes dull. He feels about as shattered as you look. “I kind of can’t believe you.”

And why should you? Oh, why, why, why should you? The simple answer is: you shouldn’t. He doesn’t think you should. You don’t think you should. No one, god, no one, would think you should. Because Itoshi Rin is cruel. He is a distant lover, with hands bloodier than his heart. He is callous. He is cold. Itoshi Rin is not a man who will wait for you, but one who will want you to wait for him. He is stubborn and unkind. Itoshi Rin cares not for most people. He holds more hate in his heart than love. He can’t help it. He can’t. He can’t be fixed. Broken beyond repair, Itoshi Rin is not worth your time.

But, among all this, he is selfish. Oh, he’s so selfish, with the way he wants you. He wants your hands in his hair and your warmth on his skin. He wants to feel your heartbeat flicker and burn under his rough palms. He wants to hold the left side of your chest— your beating, bleeding heart— in the palm of his hand. He wants every inch of your body to have his touch seared into your skin so you can’t forget about him, not ever, because he can’t be alone without you. He wants your voice in his ear, he wants you to say his name. He wants your love, plain, simple, clear. Because despite his selfishness, despite his flaws, his ambition, his cruel streak, his hatred, he loves you more than anything. It’s one of the few things he holds true in his heart, one of the only facts and constants he has. He is 24, he is foolish, he is in love with you. This is all he has. He cannot let it go. He refuses to.

“I love you.”

You have been with Rin for a year, 8 months, 22 days, and a few hours. He knows because he keeps track. All this time, he’s never been able to say those words. He knows they’re true. You know it, too, that he loves you. But he’s never said them. You never pushed, never bothered. And if you cared, you didn’t say a word. This is something about you he can’t help but think was one of the reasons he fell for you— emotional intelligence, beyond your years. You didn’t make milestones a big deal because you could sense he didn’t want them to be. But you go still at his statement now, and he hears your breathing hitch ever-so-slightly at the unexpected transparency. He says he loves you, and he means it. He does. He means it more than anything.

If Rin was a better person, he’d say more. He’d tell you that it’s okay if you leave him (it’s not), and that he understands (he does but he doesn’t care), and that you should find someone better (even though he really doesn’t think you should.) He would talk to you about how his past shadowed his future, how that affected him and how that, in turn, affected you, even though he never meant it to. How he has always been second best, but with you, he felt golden. How he wasn’t ready for the candle to burn out yet, but he couldn’t stop it. He really, really should say something else. But he’s not a better, or bigger, or kinder person. No, that’s not the man you fell in love with. So he says it again. “I love you.”

The words are more confident this time, whereas they were quieter, more hesitant the first. You don’t blink, you don’t move, Rin wonders if you even breathe— and then you laugh. There’s nothing funny but you laugh. It’s a rather inelegant snort of laughter, that gasps out into heaving breaths. Before you know it, you’re doubled over, hands on your knees, and it’s not a mean laugh. No, it isn’t. Joy fills the room. It’s yellow, like sunlight, but a million times warmer. Not the unpleasant kind, but a gentle sort of heat— like the first rays of sun after a long winter. Like spring is coming. Like a palm being warmed over the heat of a tiny, lit candle. Rin cracks a smile. It’s the somber kind. But it’s full of something blazing— something hopeful.

Through laughter, you manage to ask, “say it again?”

He makes a face. “No.”

“Oh, screw you.” It’s like the sun has risen (even though it just set) and the sky has been purged of clouds and smoke turned into a gentle little breeze and the world was a million pounds lighter. The burden of guilt feels less like a burden and more like a ball and chain– still heavy, still holding on, but salvageable. There is a key. There is a way out.

His words didn’t fix everything. He knows that much. They didn’t erase the hurt, exhaustion, pain, the world of loneliness he’s put you in. They might never. But they brought your smile lines back. They brought the creases in your eyes back. They fixed, not saved, but fixed a little piece of what was broken. There is so much to be done. There are words to be said, arguments to fight, touches to be shared— but for now, this is enough. You drop your collected items on the desk and sit back on the bed, patting the space next to you, beckoning him to come sit. And of course he does, because he owes it to you forevermore. He’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, he thinks. He knows he will. He sits next to you and feels warmer than he ever has.

(Neither of you notice that the candle has burnt out— oh, well. There’s a new one, unopened, in the closet anyways.)

[erimeows]

Against His Better Judgment

Obito Uchiha has been ‘dead’ for years now- at least according to his last surviving teammate and the poorly done carving of his name on the memorial stone that sits in the middle of the village. Tonight, however, he’s very much alive, stalking aforementioned teammate to bide the time. Why he’s been doing it, he isn’t quite sure.

Most days, Obito’s feelings for Kakashi alternate between hatred and indifference. On nights like this, however, he wavers. He remembers the way Kakashi protected him when they were young. He remembers soft silvery hair grasped between his fingertips when they’d get into particularly nasty fights; and hard gazes from beautiful charcoal eyes when Obito would show up late every day. 

Worst of all, he remembers those things fondly… And he misses them enough to forget that it was Kakashi’s arrogance that landed him in the clutches of Madara Uchiha. He forgets that it was Kakashi’s chidori that Rin impaled herself on. He forgets that, at many points during their years together, he hated Kakashi with a passion that made fire burn in his throat when the man so much as looked at him.

Back then, though, they were mere children. Now, they’re adults. Kakashi is in Anbu, consumed by the darkness of Obito’s death and everything that has followed. 

Obito lets out a small sigh and adjusts the orange mask on his face. Right now, they’re a mere mile or two from where Minato and Kushina died. A few miles away from where they used to train together. 

To reach his goal of unleashing the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Obito has to let go of his bonds. But until his plan comes closer to fruition, he supposes he can hold onto them, if only for a little longer. The only one he has left is Kakashi, anyway.

Minato and Kushina are dead because he killed them. Rin is dead because Kakashi killed her. And, his grandma and the many elderly in the village that he bonded with during his youth have been stolen away by time.

So, he lingers on the outskirts of Konoha often, clinging onto the one bond he has left. Every once in a blue moon, he hears whispers of the Uchiha trying to stage a coup; whispers of rebellion that he knows Danzo will hush before they can turn into full on screams. How Danzo will do it, Obito isn’t sure yet, but he lies in wait for the details. He doesn’t care if any of them die. They were never kind to him after his own parents died, anyway. 

In the meantime, he watches Kakashi. The man trains near the border of the village every single night, close to where he used to train every day with Team Minato when they were still alive. Now, he and Obito are the only ones left. To Kakashi, he’s the only one left.

Obito crosses his arms over his chest and peers at Kakashi with interest as he leans back against the trunk of the tree he’s sitting in. The branch he stays on is high up, and the tree is lush with leaves, so he has good coverage. It seems as if Kakashi hasn’t noticed him- at least not yet. He’s been doing this on and off for a week now and Kakashi is none the wiser. Or, Obito thinks that’s the case. Then again, Kakashi is always full of surprises.

Kakashi, the poor fool, keeps lifting the heaviest rocks and small boulders he can find and throwing them as hard as he can across the forest. He crushes patches of healthy grass and wildflowers in his wake.

“Come on out,” Kakashi says after chucking a boulder almost as big as the one that crushed Obito all those years ago, apparently aware of Obito’s presence. Obito knows he should leave, but he doesn’t. He waits to see if he can convince Kakashi that he’s simply imagining someone watching him by lowering his chakra and remaining quiet. Kakashi, however, doesn’t drop it. In fact, he’s looking right towards where Obito is hiding as he raises his forehead protector off of his Sharingan- off of Obito’s Sharingan. “Why have you been following me?”

“So you noticed me, hm?” Obito asks, hopping out of the tree and smoothly landing on the ground.

Thankfully, he looks much different. He’s masked, his hair is longer, he’s taller, and he’s learned to impersonate Madara’s voice perfectly. If he plays his cards right, even someone as astute as Kakashi shouldn’t be able to identify him, especially while under the impression that he’s dead. 

“Answer me,” Kakashi demands. He weaves some hand signs and forms a ball of lightning in his right hand. “It’s been weeks now.”

“You’re more observant than I thought, Kakashi Hatake,” Obito smiles beneath his mask and activates his own Sharingan. Behind his mask, in the darkness of the cloudy summer night, Kakashi doesn’t seem to see it. “Trust me. I’m simply here from Konoha’s security division to work on the barrier system. I’m not following you.”

Kakashi softens, but not fully. The chidori remains in his hand, chirping with energy, waiting to be unleashed on some poor soul. 

“Then what’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you that. This mission is classified.”

“Hm… You seem to know who I am, but if you won’t reveal your name, I’m not sure I can trust you,” Kakashi says, though he diffuses his chidori and pushes his hands into his pockets. It’s a gesture that he never would’ve done when he was younger, citing bad posture as ‘improper’ and stiffly keeping his hands at his sides. Oh, how he’s changed since they were little. “How can I confirm that you’re someone from this village who can be trusted?”

“I know how to unlock the village barriers. No outsiders are provided with that kind of information.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Kakashi snaps. Obito sees him grip something within his pocket- probably a kunai or a shuriken. “A spy could’ve leaked those to you easily.”

“Wow. Your faith in your comrades must be poor if you think there’s a spy among the lot of you,” Obito laughs, but Kakashi isn’t necessarily wrong. All of the ninja villages are ridden with spies right now. He decides to use his knowledge about Kakashi to his advantage. “Fine, then. You were in Anbu with me. I worked with you before moving to the security division. What do you want to hear about yourself?”

“...What’s my go-to food order after a mission?”

“You don’t have one go-to order. If it’s a difficult mission, you get eggplant-mixed miso soup since it’s light. If it’s easier and you return to the village hungry, you get saury with rice instead.”

“It’s odd that I worked with you at some point and don’t recognize your voice, but very well. No one else could possibly know that information about me aside from another comrade. I’ll leave you be.”

With that, Kakashi turns to leave. Obito lets out a sigh of relief, though he can’t help but wonder if his encounter with Kakashi is some sort of sign… Whether it’s a sign to leave Kakashi alone or a sign to play with fire, he isn’t sure.

~

Against his better judgment, Obito returns to the outskirts of the village the next night to watch Kakashi train in the field of wildflowers. This time, Kakashi arrives before him, so he doesn’t have much time to hide. He addresses the man with his arms crossed.

“Kakashi Hatake. I thought you’d steer clear from here after last night.”

“No. If you’re doing this type of work alone, I figured extra protection wouldn’t hurt… In case someone tries to stop you. Even if you’re not in any danger, having a teammate doesn’t hurt.”

“How odd of you… To say something like that, Kakashi,” Obito laughs. He thinks back to when his old teammate would complain about being on a team and insisting that he’d be better off alone on dangerous missions. “Don’t they call you the friend-killer these days?”

“Sometimes, but those who call me ‘friend-killer’ weren’t there that day,” Kakashi shrugs. It’s as if he’s so used to it that the insult doesn’t bother him anymore. Kakashi glances towards Obito, who stands across from him. His eyes are dark but curious. “Do you think I’m a friend-killer?”

“Do you truly care what I think?”

“I don’t know who you are, so I suppose I shouldn’t, but if you really are my comrade… I do,” Kakashi answers before sitting down on a nearby log and pulling the backpack off of his shoulders. He reaches into it for a lunch box, and then another. He looks back up at Obito and smiles underneath his mask. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Obito responds, baffled. The Kakashi he knew back then would never bring food for anyone else- not even Rin, Minato, or Kushina- who all made him lunches regularly. “Don’t tell me you’ve brought food for me.”

“I have. Would you like to come eat with me?”

“Did you forget the fact that I’m working?” Obito hisses, though it isn’t really true.

“No, but a break never hurts.”

“Very well,” Obito sits next to Kakashi on the log. It’s far closer than he’s comfortable with, but he can sense that Kakashi is relaxed and that neither of them are in danger. Kakashi hands one of the lunch boxes to him. Much to his surprise, he opens the lunchbox to see three sticks of dango. “I was under the impression that you hated sweets.”

“I do- or, I did- but these were the favorite of a close friend. He would eat these nonstop no matter how much I’d lecture him about it,” Kakashi says, staring down at the sticks within his own lunchbox. “He’s gone now, so I eat them when I find myself wishing he were still here… To remind me of what it was like to have him around. Sometimes, when I eat dango, I’m able to close my eyes and imagine that he’s sitting next to me enjoying them as well.”

“I see,” Obito frowns. While he would never admit it, regret flutters in his stomach, if only for a moment. He briefly considers ripping the mask off of his face and telling Kakashi the truth. Breaking down in his lap and crying his eyes out about everything he’s gone through since Kannabi Bridge. It’s just too late, though. He’s killed so many people, done so many terrible things, all in the name of this plan of his. Obito takes a deep breath and reminds himself why he’s doing all of this; to give people like himself and Kakashi a better world where none of those terrible things can happen. He glances over at Kakashi, watching for changes in the other man’s facial expression as he asks- “Do you miss him?”

“Do I miss him?” Kakashi asks in an incredulous tone- as if the answer is obvious. After years of Kakashi scolding him, beating him down, and tearing apart every single thing he ever believed in, it’s hard for him to comprehend the idea of Kakashi… Missing him. “Of course I do. I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss him. I was in love with him for the longest time, but I never had the guts to tell him… He was in love with this girl on our squad, so I didn’t think he’d return my feelings. I was mean to him because I had my own issues… I was afraid that if he knew I had fallen for him, he’d make fun of me and hold it over my head. Now, he’s dead, and it’s my fault. I guess I am a friend-killer after all… If I had just been better to him back then, everything would’ve worked out. Maybe I would’ve even been able to tell him the truth.”

Obito’s eye widens beneath his mask. 

Kakashi…

Was in love with him?

“Maybe… It’s better that you didn’t get to tell him in the end,” Obito frowns. They fall into a brief silence, both turning to face away from each other and pulling their masks down to eat the dango. Desperate to leave so he can reflect on the bombshell Kakashi has just dropped on him, Obito pushes the lunch box back into the man’s bag and stands up. “I should report back… To the security division.”

When he turns to leave, Kakashi reaches out and grabs Obito’s gloved hand. 

Obito looks over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking up at him. 

“Will you be here again tomorrow night?” Kakashi questions.

Obito pauses.

“Will you be here?”

“If you are. I don’t know why, but I feel… Connected to you. Maybe I do remember working with you, at some point. Even if you can’t reveal your identity to me because of your mission, I’d like to keep meeting you here until you’ve finished it.”

Obito shakes his head, yanks his hand away from Kakashi’s, and leaves.

~

The next night, Obito inevitably returns. This time, Kakashi isn’t training. Instead, he lies on the field of wildflowers with his mask hanging loosely around his neck and a cigarette between his lips. The wind gently blows by, 

Kakashi pulls his cigarette out from between his lips and speaks, his eyes shut and lashes fluttering against his cheeks.  

“You’re back.”

Obito sits next to Kakashi on the grass. 

“Are you shocked?”

Kakashi shrugs and, with his eyes still closed, holds his cigarette out. Obito takes it and stares down at Kakashi, baffled. The man is still holding his eyes closed and turning his head the other way to show that he won’t look… So, Obito pulls his mask to the side just enough to take a drag off of the cigarette. The smoke in his lungs reeks of tobacco and bittersweet regret.

“You didn’t answer me last night when I asked if you’d be here.”

Obito blows rings of smoke into the air, pulls his mask back over his face, places the cigarette back between Kakashi’s lips, and answers.

“I didn’t have to.”

The leaves of the trees in the forest rustle with the rhythm of the breeze as Obito stares at Kakashi… And stares, and stares, and stares. Kakashi opens his eyes and stares back. Obito meets his gaze, even behind the mask, sure to keep his Sharingan deactivated so his eye remains pitch black. It feels as if Kakashi is staring straight through him. Obito wishes that he could stare straight through Kakashi, too, because after last night, his perception of the other man has been flipped upside down.

“You must be part of Root. I’ve been mulling over everyone I’ve ever worked with and I’m certain I haven’t actually worked with you directly, so you must be a Root member,” Kakashi explains, though it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to inform Obito that he knows. Kakashi has always been unsure of himself- Obito can tell that much. “Are you telling Danzo about me? …About this- I mean, about what we’ve been doing the last couple nights?”

“Don’t worry,” Obito says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m aware of the fact that Danzo has it out for you, but you’re not my mission, Kakashi.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Don’t make it out as if I’m doing you any sort of favor.”

“But you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been trying to act cold these last few days, but I can tell you’re not like that,” Kakashi murmurs, his tone low as he burns his cigarette out on the front of his Anbu armor. “Your presence feels very warm, like an old friend.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“There’s no double meaning. The words are as clear as day,” Kakashi shrugs and crosses one leg over the other. “I feel connected to you. Being around you gives me a sense of warmth and familiarity that I really don’t get to feel anymore.”

“Then your perception of me is wrong.”

“Or maybe the way you perceive yourself is wrong,” Kakashi corrects, then rolls onto his side to face Obito. “I want to see your face.”

“Why?”

“I just…” Kakashi trails off, then reaches out to try to touch Obito’s mask. Obito jerks back. “Imagined you’d be pretty.”

“I’m far from pretty,” Obito argues.

Unlike Kakashi, who’s sitting here unmasked with his beautiful sharp eyes, perfectly chiseled jawline, soft-looking lips, and gorgeous silver hair, Obito is not, in fact, pretty. His long, dark hair is a mess, over half of his body is scarred from the battle on Kannabi bridge, and even if he weren’t half-mangled, he never thought he was attractive to begin with. There was a reason Rin always preferred Kakashi back then.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you think you’re pretty, Kakashi?” Obito demands to get the attention of of himself, knowing that Kakashi has never had the best self-esteem.

“I’m not hideous,” Kakashi hums. “I’d say I’m a very average looking man.”

Obito rolls his eyes.

“Then why do you wear a mask to cover your face so often?”

“Well, I’m not self-conscious. The mask is only there for a practical reason. I inherited the strong sense of smell from the Inuzuka clan thanks to my mother, but not the ability to tolerate it without getting overwhelmed, so my father put me in a mask when I was little to keep me from having public meltdowns. I’d get seriously overstimulated. I don’t mind showing people my face if they just ask.”

“...You undersold your looks. You really have gotten handsome in the last few years, Kakashi.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, definitely,” Obito answers. He saw Kakashi’s face a handful of times when they were children- once by accident, a couple times when Rin had to heal a facial injury, and another time when Kakashi was sick. “I hope you don’t think that I’m going to remove my mask now that you’ve shown me your face...”

“Of course not. You said your identity has to be confidential for your mission, right? I knew seeing your face would be a long shot, but I feel like we’ve made some progress tonight,” Obito becomes uncomfortable at those words. If he isn’t careful, Kakashi’s going to make him… No, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Heart fluttering against his chest, Obito stands up and dusts the grass off of his outfit. “Are you leaving now?”

Obito doesn’t answer directly. Instead, he asks-

“See you tomorrow night?”

Kakashi grins.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

~

The next night, Obito shows up earlier than he’d like to admit… Before the sun sets, in fact. The amount of risks he’s taking for this undeniable urge to see Kakashi is ridiculous if the two dead Anbu near the village barriers are anything to go by.

He waits hours in the same field on the outskirts of the village, sitting in the grass and dwelling on everything that’s happened over the last few days. It takes so long that he starts to think Kakashi might not show up. Right at midnight, however, Kakashi comes running to the field with sweat dripping down his face and a lunch box in his hands. 

“Sorry I’m late- I had a mission that kept me,” Kakashi apologizes and sits down next to Obito on the grass- far too close for comfort, honestly. Their shoulders brush against one another as Kakashi moves to open the lunchbox and pulls out a stick of dango. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Dango again?” Obito quirks an eyebrow, though he knows Kakashi can’t see it behind his mask. 

“You seemed like you liked it with how fast you scarfed it down last time, so I brought it again, but I can eat it by myself if you’d like.”

“No, no, I don’t mind… I’ll have some.”

Obito reaches into the box and pulls out a stick for himself. Kakashi does the same. They turn away from each other and pull their masks down to eat before fixing their masks and turning back to face each other. 

“Did you like it? I learned how to make it pretty recently.”

Obito nods. 

“Yes, it’s better than the kind you can get from the dango shop next to Ichiraku.”

“Good. I’m glad you don’t hate it,” Kakashi reaches over and pats Obito’s back. Obito flinches at the touch, but doesn’t do anything to make Kakashi stop. “You have to eat well if you’re going to be out on a security mission like this all night every night.”

“That’s true. Thank you for feeding me, but why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Coming here… Meeting with me, talking to me, treating me with such kindness, even though I can tell you’re unsure if you can fully trust me or not.”

Kakashi pauses, looking wistful as he closes his lunchbox and puts it in his bag. 

“Doesn’t everyone deserve kindness?”

“No,” Obito answers, baffled by the person Kakashi has become. “I would argue that most people don’t- not in this cruel, vile shinobi world.”

“It’s sad that you think that way. Even a lot of the worst people have goodness in them,” Kakashi argues. “And, you know, forgiveness is important. If you don’t forgive, putting things behind you so you can move on is still important. You never know what someone is going through now, or what someone has been through previously. Bad experiences don’t excuse bad behavior, but if you can treat someone who’s lashing out because they’re struggling with some grace, you’re bound to make the world that much better.”

Obito rolls his eyes at Kakashi. 

“You’re far too forgiving.”

Kakashi, as always, seems unbothered.

“You’re allowed to feel that way.”

“Do you think I’m wrong?” Obito questions.

“No, not at all. We’re both right to feel the way we feel. Us shinobi don’t have the rights to much these days- the least we can have are the rights to our feelings. It’s imperative for us to have a variety of people with differing perspectives or the big problems with the shinobi world will never get solved.”

“And you think that people such as myself can solve those problems?”

“Sure you can… Especially if you’re working together with others to do it, like me.”

Kakashi reaches for Obito’s face. Obito catches his wrist in one hand and shoots a glare in his direction- not that Kakashi can see it behind Obito’s mask, anyway, but Kakashi seems to feel the heat of it just fine.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kakashi jerks his hand away as if he’s scorched it on hot metal and averts his gaze, embarrassed. “I’m sorry for touching you without asking first.”

“Stop apologizing,” Obito grabs Kakashi’s chin with one gloved hand. “Did you… Want to touch me?”

“I’d like to. I feel like we both need it.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kakashi honestly answers after a moment’s hesitation. “Can you prove to me that I can?”

“Do something for me and I think I’ll be able to.”

Kakashi tightly swallows.

“Anything you want.”

“Pull your mask down, then pull your forehead protector over both eyes to cover them.”

“I see,” Kakashi sighs, seeming disappointed, but he does as Obito says. He drags his tilted forehead protector over both of his eyes and ties it in place so he can’t see, then pulls his mask down to expose the lower half of his face. “You’re going to take your mask off, but you don’t want to reveal your face to me.”

Obito confirms Kakashi’s suspicions with a low hum and places a gentle hand on Kakashi’s face. Kakashi leans into the touch, his cheeks burning bright red underneath the moonlight. Obito uses his other hand to push his mask to the side. Against his better judgment, he leans in and presses a kiss to Kakashi’s lips. They’re sweet like sugar but bitter like coffee as Kakashi tilts his head and leans in to kiss him back. Obito isn’t sure why he’s doing this. Does he love Kakashi back? The way his heart is slamming against his chest right now, the way his lips are moving against Kakashi’s, the way he sighs when Kakashi’s fingers land in his hair and pull at the long black locks- they all say yes, he does.

But then, why do this at all? When the Infinite Tsukuyomi comes to fruition, he can do this whenever he wants without the risk of his identity being revealed. Better yet, he can do it as himself.

‘Because this is real,’ he thinks before quickly shoving the thought to the back of his mind and pulling back. He yanks his mask over his face and stares at Kakashi with intense… Something. Longing? Regret? Relief? He can’t tell. 

 “I should go before this gets too intense,” Obito chokes out the words, still tasting Kakashi on his lips as he talks. 

Kakashi fumbles to pull his forehead protector back over his forehead and his mask over his face. Still, Obito can tell that the poor guy is red from the tips of his ears down. 

“Will you be back tomorrow night?” Kakashi asks, twiddling his thumbs like a teenager.

“I’m not sure yet,” Obito admits. He shouldn’t come back… Not again, lest they take this too far, but he wants to continue this so desperately. “Don’t wait up on me.”

“Okay,” Kakashi smiles, waving. “See you later.”

“Yeah,” Obito waves in return. “See you later, Kakashi.”

[ireallywishiknew]

DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO READ TPW AS SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Keep scrolling right NOWWWW.

Anyway I just wanted to write some tormented older Nezha. Im on my phone so pls excuse the formating. Also i haven't written in years so pls be kind...

Enjoy?

*********

The system of democracy worked. Though people are born, and eventually die, the land survives and moves on. Rivers reroute, vegetation, and crops re-grow with the right resources and systems. It took years of civil war, famine, disease, and bowing to Hesperia to stabilise the 12 provinces before a centralised government formed. Yet, through it all, he is still here.

They now call this period the Nikan Enlightenment. Ironic, he knows.

He is lost. Has been since he silently endured all that fell onto his shoulders at her death. Time has warped and twisted in 40 years of nursing delicate political threads of Nikan and Hesperia. In his waking hours, Nezha Yin only allows himself to remember the future he fought for after the end of all things he believed in.

He is no longer the young Warlord of the past, but now the Emperor of Nikan. The country is not the one she left behind or dreamed of, and every day, a small part of him disappears. His heart has become numb to the endlessness; his way did work and is working. It all feels pointless to Nezha. Whilst everyone else he loved has rotted and turned to dust.

Nezha catches himself in the mirrors as he walks but can no longer recognise himself. He only sees the ghost of his Father, the previous Dragon Warlord, Vaisra. He sees his Father in every wrinkle and in his stern straight mouth. His reflection is a live capsule of his father's disappointment that stares back. He can’t remember what it was like to smile. He looks like the very face that she kissed to destroy.

For years, silently he mourned for his lost family, his friends, his God - her. He once bent water at his will, but now, pathetically, can’t muster tears for his eyes. He consumed the drought from the land to his heart.

His memories betray him, the only thing he has is the stories on the streets. No one talks of Kitay's anxious genius or Venka's skill. They don't know that she was so much more than her anger, her fire. History has written them as traitors.

Are any of their ghosts at peace?

All these years, yet he yearns that he died alongside them. She was his divinity, and like a devout fool to a God that doesn't exist, he clings to her last command.

“Fix this.”

***

In the quietest of nights, where there are no Hesperian eyes or Nikara assassins, he is isolated to his thoughts. Nezha allows himself to feel. What is left in his memories are a drug. Through them, he allows himself a sick fantasy, and a mercy of death.

He transports himself back to when he was no more than a child himself. Back to the white sandy beach of Speer. The place full of death and her ancestors’ bones. He is on his knees with Kitay’s lifeless body at his side and her small one in his arms.

He repeats this memory like a terrible obsession. Remembers the stone-cold terror settle in in his being, feeling her searing heat diminish from her body. He remembers every detail of her familiar blood-red, angry eyes, that he loved so fiercely, fade. He can replay the sound of her black blood spluttering from her mouth to only twist into a nightmare. She then laughs a blood-crazed sharp laugh. Her eyes become as black as her hatred, (did she ever love him?), and her voice blurs with those of the gods he has long since been blocked from.

“Destroy them," the gods whisper viciously through her, choking on her blood that she spits at his face.

She kills him in many ways. Rin will strangle his neck, which she burns to decapitate him. Sometimes she does it swiftly. Other times she does it slowly, so he dies in unfathomable pain. She smiles at him the brightest then.

He paints her vicious, she may blast him, or make his bones crack to be reduced to sweet nothing. She always uses her holy hellfire in his dreams. He begs for the burns to be real. He wishes his skin would sear and melt. He prays for the physical torment to silence his mind in the way that only she could bring. When he dreams death close, he is startled awake and left with his sweat-drenched clothes in the shadows of his soulless room.

He's brought prosperity to the country. Civilians are happy, but the Hesperians are still here. There is still the fight for independence. This fix is not enough.

He knows his living nightmare will not end until Nikan is free. There is no peace in death for Nezha. He will live and endure.

Alone, forever.