#i love my main leaf so much

[jontaro-kun]

That one time a pose study (looking at art of pretty women and telling myself I was being productive) turned into Portia

[pepprs]

acnl is a superior game to acnh in almost every way except the graphics. it’s actually making me mad

[triglycercule]

i am severely upset at the sexyman polls for this year. yeah its absolutely because im biased and not a single one of the mtt won. but killer vs error is still going on you say!!! NO,,,,, killer's lost,,,,, its 70 error 30 killerISH so yeah,,,,, none of the mtt MADE!!!! IT!!!! and with the boom in killer content these past few months i wasSO FUCKING SURE that he'd like AT LEAST get higher up. nope. because of ERROR. listen i like him. he was my og bias when i first joined this fandom. i was an error fanatic. but bro,,,,, bro,,,,,,,,, killer,,,,, lost,,,,,, AND FUCKING HORROR AND DUST LOST TOO!!!! LIKE WHAY. WHAT. PUTTING HORROT AGAINST ERROR AND DUST AGAINST CROSS!!!! THEYRE LITERALLY BOTH THE TWO GUYS THAT (1/2 of them) WON LAAT YEAR!!!! OF COURSE THEYRE GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THE MTT!!!!! this is very upseting im really sad imMAD. but no point in being a sore loser.... mtt won in my HEART 🧡

dust laughing at both horror and killer for getting the shit beaten out of them by error and then they bring up the fact that he lost to CROSS. this is the second time someone in the mtt lost to cross (theyre all making out in the loser's room) (mtt poly real btw)

[sexysilverstrider]

I'm debating trying to run a character week for Leaf from April 22-28 so it falls on Earth Day, but I don't think anyone would care 😭 Nobody likes her...in a game where the protagonists are just avatars, how do you flop as a character so bad and even when you're finally canonized, to be so meh to people they decide her and Green just *have* to be different characters, 100% same design, role in the trio, bag, and battle pose just colors inverted who? Featured merch with Squirtle, Gengar, and Clefable who? LGPE Red looks different from FRLG Red too, that's just how updated graphics for Gen 1 designs go. You'd think that would mean the fandom would care about just the LGPE interpretation but there's nothing for Green either lmao. So instead I'm here to tick off as many people as possible who go looking for Reguri fics and Dad Lance and Silver specific content by straight up refusing to write Leaf as a bubbly airhead, a girlboss wingwomen, or literally any other way I disliked regarding women in fic...though, it wouldn't be false advertisement to begin with. I think the trio deserves to be an actual trio, and that dad Lance can't go being a dad/weird older brother who left for college to Red and Blue and just. exclude Leaf. nobody may care about my vision but that is ok, I need to be the change I want to see in the world and maybe I will convert some people along the way.

[rubiehart]

JJ and reader sneak away on the island of Poguelandia to get some… “alone time” iykwim

when obx3 first came out this was like my main scenario to sleep lol.. i love u nonnie

all the pogues sit around the makeshift fire, faces illuminated and cheeks blushed from the heat, listening to cleo’s bizarre stories from before she fell in with all of you, but you’re not really listening.

you adjust yourself on the log you’d used for seating, digging your toes into the sun warmed sand as you eyes jj across the flames, he was focused on cooking whatever he’d caught that day, the only thing you were focused on was the way his biceps flexed, deep blues occasionally flitting over and meeting your own eyes before correcting himself when he realised he’d been caught, smirk playing on his lips.

you’d had this arrangement far before this misfortune, stranded on an abandoned island in the middle of nowhere. you’d sit on his work bench, watching him fix up his bike, popsicle slotted between your lips as you watched him. before he’d had enough for your teasing and bent you over the warm metal, denim shorts pulled down to your knees as he pounded into you.

but something had changed ever since you landed on the island, he was so much softer, kinder, a lot less demanding when he’d fuck you. he really took his time with you when he could, he’d make you feel so good, it didn’t happen as much as it used to back home, so you’d learned to appreciate it a lot more when it did.

you clinged onto his tan shoulders, outgrown fingernails digging into the muscle as he finger fucked you behind a tree, the squelch of your wet cunt the only sound heard as he clamped a ringed hand over your mouth, willing you to be quiet with praise as he hit that spot over and over again. his jaw clenched as he kept half on eye on pope and cleo not too far away collecting fruits for your breakfast, fixing you up and giving you a quick peck before sending you off back to the group, strolling back a few after you like nothing had happened.

that was last week, and he hadn’t even touched you since. to say you were desperate was an understatement. sure, the island was desolate but that didn’t mean it was big, and sneaking away to fuck yourself and risk getting caught wasn’t something you wanted to do. so you thought eye fucking was enough of a hint for him, spoiler, it wasn’t.

he kept you on the edge of your seat all night, he knew what he was doing and he loved the power. concealing his grin when he caught you discretely rub your thighs together whenever you’d look a him.

you got what you wanted soon enough, when everyone was pretty much knocked out on their makeshift leaf mattresses, stepping over john b cautiously as you made your way up the sandy bank where you knew he would be.

you were finally at peace when he had you splayed out against a large tree, legs spread around his his head, his matted blonde tresses tickling your inner thighs as he devoured you like a starved man. his cocky persona dropped as he practically begged for you, even though he already had you in your head.

“wanted to taste this fuckin’ pussy all day.” he mutters, tongue dipping into your clenching hole as he brings two fingers up to steadily rub at your clit, your back arching beautifully against the rough bark of the tree, hand forcefully gripping his hair and keeping him right where you wanted him.

“strutting around in that little top, you dunno’ what you do to me, infront of all our fuckin’ friends.” he admits, skilled fingers punching your g-spot, a loud moan leaving your lips as your climax approached, immediately recoiling back into yourself as the sound echoes over the extensive ocean surrounding you, hoping your friends didn’t hear.

jj sensed your sudden shyness and tapped your thigh, one hand shaking up to grasp at your boob, calloused thumb teasing your nipple as he circles your throbbing but with his tongue. “nah- let it all out, wanna hear how good i make you feel.”

“yeah- gooooood girl. you got it.”

[mischievousmoony]

hi i saw your request were open, and i really love you’re work and i was wondering if you could do something with james where the reader talks very quickly and quietly and often is told that she needs to speak up. and james always knows what she says and its kinda just fluffy? no worries if you don’t want to write!! have an amazing night/day

- 🪷

is this my first emoji anon? 🤭 thank u love, i had a lot of fun with this request

𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: not bully per say but other students are rude, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Miss. Y/L/N, have you found a group to work with?" Professor McGonagall asks as students around you huddle in groups of four whilst you stand alone at your desk, packing your things.

You mumble a response as you stuff your books into your bag, attempting to flee the scene as fast as possible. It wasn't anything to do with Professor McGonagall, but rather the fact that you always felt a little scrutinized when talking to anyone in a position of authority.

McGonagall squints as she tries to decipher your words. She finds herself having to make a guess.

"If not, I am more than happy to assist in finding–"

"She's with us, Professor!" James jogs over, returning from enlisting members for your group. As you straighten out your leafs of parchment, James starts packing away your ink and quill for you.

"And 'us' entails?" Professor McGonagall questions.

With a casual flick of his thumb over his shoulder, James gestures to a pair of Ravenclaws standing by the door.

"Very well," McGonagall hums in approval before walking off to ensure any other stragglers have found a group before they depart.

James would prefer to have Sirius and Remus as the other half of your group, but McGonagall has permanently banned James and Sirius from working together ever since they turned a simple demonstration into their own personal stand up comedy gig, resulting in some arguably intentional mishaps in their spellwork.

You've just latched your bag closed when James takes it from you and slings it over his shoulder without giving it much thought. He’s always absentmindedly doing you little favors, like it's his second nature.

"So, Cody has nothing better to do on a Friday night, why am I not surprised?" James says teasingly. "He’s insisting we hit the library and get a head start on the project. You free right now?"

"I'm free," you confirm, looking over James' shoulder at your group mates.

You hate group projects for a multitude of reasons. At least with most Ravenclaws— especially the two you're partnered with, Cody and Isla— you don't have to worry about them not carrying their weight.

This makes your main concern having to work with people you don't know that well. All you did know about them is that they're the kind of Ravenclaws that other Ravenclaws say give them a bad rap. They have a raging superiority complex, and you’d be surprised that James is okay to work with them if you didn't know him. That boy thinks he can make a friend out of anyone, save for some rivals he has in Slytherin.

So, you’re mostly surprised that they want to work with the two of you, but that probably has something to do with James being at the top of the class. Otherwise, they wouldn't normally branch out to students outside of their house.

You suddenly feel uneasy, realizing that for this project, you’ll be the student that the others are weary of not pulling their weight. You feel your hands get clammy over the potential judgement running through Cody and Isla's heads as James leads you over to them.

"Are we going or what?" Cody asks rather unmannerly.

James opens the door for everyone, "Lead the way."

You filter out into the hallway. Soon, the four of you fall in step with each other as James throws an arm around your shoulders.

"How long are we planning to spend on this today?" Isla asks.

"Well, if we dedicate the afternoon to it, we could get all of the research out of the way in one go." Cody responds.

James meets your eye with a sideways glance, and an entire conversation is shared through a couple facial expressions.

His lips curl into a knowing half-smile, See? No plans.

Your eyes twitch with amusement before they shift toward the pair. A microscopic scrunch of your nose conveys, I don't want to spend the whole day with these people.

His face contorts, Me neither, and he shakes his head, we can't anyway.

Your head tilts curiously.

"We have plans later," James verbalizes.

"We do?"

“Sirius got his record player repaired.” James smirks, “And I may have some butterbeer and a certain record waiting for us back at my dorm.”

Your eyes widen with excitement, “James, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did.” James says proudly.

“Sorry,” Cody interrupts, “you can’t work on the project tonight because you have to go listen to music?” Cody asks, and the rhetoric nature and judgmental tone are lost on you.

You dive into an explanation on how it’s not just any music, but your favorite band’s brand album. And not just that, but the limited edition record complete with bonus tracks not available anywhere else.

The record was wildly out of your budget and although record stores far and wide all received copies, they didn’t receive very many. You had accepted that you would likely never get your hands on a copy, but you hadn’t accounted for James’ readiness to move mountains at your whim.

You excitedly speak about your favorite band and everything you know about the new record, and it’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough. James listens intently, grinning widely and nodding along with your every word, interjecting occasionally with commentary of his own. You're too busy raving to notice the shared look between Cody and Isla.

"Is this supposed to be a private conversation or are we expected to understand you?" Isla sneers as the four of you reach the library doors.

James' grin falters as watches your excitement fade. You mumble out an apology, which James found completely unnecessary.

His tone flattens out from amused to deadpanned as he addresses Cody's earlier question, both to alleviate some attention from you and to deliberately ignore Isla, "We'll stay for an hour, maybe two. But after that, yeah, we're going to go listen to music with our friends."

Ever the gentleman, even when annoyed, he holds the library's door open for everyone. He eyes the back of Isla's head with offense as she passes, but his eyes soften when you walk through next.

The four of you quickly find a table, as not many are occupied to begin with.

James musters up a semblance of professionalism as he forces himself to stop glaring at Isla as she and Cody begin to discuss a plan for the project. Cody takes it upon himself to divide up areas of research without consulting the rest of the table.

"Hold on," James' brows furrow at his audacity, "What if I don't want to be in charge of researching the wand mechanics? And Y/N has an exceptional understanding of magical theory, she should be in charge of the magical formulas."

Cody and Isla's eyes fall on you and this time you don't miss their criticism.

"You have an exceptional understanding of magical theory?" Isla's face contorts into that familiar sneer.

James doesn't try to hide the way he rolls his eyes. He nudges you, "What was it you were saying earlier? The idea you had for the project?"

You gulp before you dive into an explanation. It feels like Cody and Isla were burning holes through you with their stares, so you try to distract yourself by gazing down at your hands as you them wring together.

In the middle of your explanation—

"Couldn't you at least look up so that I might have a chance at reading your lips?" Cody grumbles.

If looks could kill, James Potter would be a wanted man.

"S- sorry," you practically squeak. You do look up, but the glare on Cody's face intimidates you into mumbling even more. Even the most skilled lip reader wouldn't have a clue as to what you are saying.

"Merlin, could you just speak up?" Cody snaps his fingers in your face and your words die in your throat.

James suddenly wishes he had a beater's bat handy.

"Oi! Get your hand outta her face!" He raises his voice to levels that would surely attract Madam Pince's shushing any minute.

Cody retracts his hand but stands by his actions, "We'll hardly get anything done today if she can't even speak clearly. How do you expect me to deal with this?"

"Alright then, new plan," James says through gritted teeth. He stands abruptly, and his chair scrapes loudly across the floor as it shoved back by his sudden ascent. "The two of us will research the wand mechanics and magical formulas on our own, you two can have the rest. I'll let you know where we'll go from there next class."

James' hand finds yours in a grip that is surprisingly gentle considering the way he is currently conducting himself. He tugs on your hand, prompting you to rise from your own seat.

"You're just going to leave?" Isla asks.

At the same time, Cody protests the plan, "There's no way that I'm accepting that."

"Well, Cody, if you wanted to be in charge, then I guess you shouldn't have been such a cun–"

"James!" This time you're loud enough to speak over James' biting words.

"See you in class" are James' parting words to the very stunned Cody as he pulls you away from the scene.

Once in the hall, James can't help himself from raging over Cody's behavior.

"What a slimy git! Who does he think he is?"

You squeeze the hand that James still has wrapped around yours as he tugs you through the halls.

"James," you call gently.

"Don't know why I said yes to working with them. They basically cornered me, I'll have you know! I should've ran the other way when I saw them–"

"James," you try again, more firmly.

"Maybe if we talk to Minnie on Monday we can get our group switched. You don't suppose we can work with Sirius and Remus considering these extenuating circumstances?"

You dig your feet into the floor, "James!" you call out one last time, finally earning his attention.

James spins to face you, his hold on your hand not letting up.

"Yeah?"

"Calm down, would you?" You're voice comes out tinged with laughter.

James' troubles melt away at the sound of your laughter. His eyes search your face for any sign that it's false.

"You're not upset?" he asks, knowing you've been sensitive in the past to people's commentary on the way you talk.

"No, the look on Cody's face when we stormed away was healing enough."

This earned a laugh from James, "It was pretty satisfying."

James gives your hand another tug so that you fall into step with each other again. He only drops his hold on you to sling his arm over your shoulders.

"Dunno why people become such dunces around you." A playful smirk dances on James' lips, "Distracted by that pretty face, maybe, whereas I know how to multitask."

You shake your head at his antics, but your lips can't be stopped from curling into a grin.

"I can't deny the fact that you're the only one who seems to always hear me."

In the past, you've considered the possibility that James can always tell what you're saying because you feel more comfortable around him than anyone else, prompting you to speak more clearly. In actuality, James doesn't even need your words to know what you're thinking. He's known you for a long time, and he's spent every minute of it learning everything there is to know about you. By now, he might know you better than he knows himself.

"I guess I just might be the luckiest guy around, then, that I don't have to miss a second of your charm."

You sigh at his teasing and knock your shoulder into his, completely missing the genuine adoration in his eyes as he studies the way you smile at his words.

He can't wait to see how your smile looks when you find out that record he got you is signed.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[sahisan]

silence.

tomioka giyuu x gn!reader.

⭒ summary: everyone knows that giyuu isn't much of a talker, so this depicts the silent moments with him that you both have come enjoy.

⭑ cw: sfw. mentions of giyuu's past (final selection w sabito). a bit of angst. reader is bad at comforting. giyuu loves you sm. like loves.

⭒ wc: 2.8k.

⭑ a/n: this took me too long wth, almost a month i fear lol. this was written during my demon slayer hyperfixation comeback (it's gone now) so uh. also acheron fic coming soon (i hope soon)! pls like and reblog !!

it wasn't exactly silence after giyuu finished speaking. there were sounds of birds chirping, wind occasionally blowing, resulting in sounds of swaying leaves on the trees being more audible. some even fell because of the invisible force of the air, ending up meeting the gravel ground near the engawa.

having told a good share of his past to you—precisely about sabito and the final selection, which were the main reason he wasn't exactly thrilled about taking part in the hashira training—giyuu decided to stop himself from telling you any more, choosing to leave other topics for later.

but will you still have this 'later' now that he's shared even a small bit of himself?

to you, the silence was awkward. not having the faintest idea of what to say in reply to that wasn't exactly what you would want to experience, yet here you were. it felt useless even trying to think of something, to try and make something up in your mind, even taking a bit more time than you usually do when thinking of a response, bur nothing could've prepared you to thinking of what to reply to this.

it made your stomach churn with how you realised you couldn't seem to know what to do, what to say, how to comfort him; the closest to you person finally started to open uo, little by little, bit by bit and you instead feel like an immobile log, only being able to sit there and listen, not being able to muster up a word of comfort.

and you know, you know that it's because you've never heard the said words of colsolation in your life; thus, you didn't know how to comfort giyuu.

another gust of wind blew through the air, nearly ruffling your and his hair, and for a moment you think of giyuu with his hair no longer in a low ponytail, but instead it being messy and disarranged and you think of running your fingers through it. you hope you'll have such opportunity, even if only once.

another fallen onto your lap leaf helped you out of your thoughts; it would be even more awkward if you hadn't managed to say something at all, daydreaming and continuing on staying silent. you take the leaf between your fingers before it manages to fly away and take a look at it; elm.

"i'm... sorry," you finally spoke, voice quiet as to not disturb anything around. you felt so meek just hearing your own voice. "i don't really know what to say. but i'm sorry for what happened with sabito."

you took a pause; you were never one to have a good way with words, and it made everything even worse in this situation.

"just know that... i'm here for you whenever you want to talk to me about anything. i'll listen."

giyuu's head was in the same position as yours—lowered to look down at his lap. he couldn't say the atmosphere was tense, no, not at all. he knew this was a lot to digest in such a small period of time, no matter how long you've been silent, and he could see your hesitation in choosing the right words; you surely didn't voice your inability to properly comfort him, but didn't blame you for your lack in knowledge about it. he could guess why.

"it's alright," he said just as quietly, silently exhaling a small breath. it felt as if it was easier to breathe now that he had shared this bit of his past to you. "it was about time i told you anyways. i'm already glad you listened. don't bother with words."

you still felt that just listening wasn't enough.

"have you eaten yet?" giyuu broke another silence after a few more minutes of listening to the wind's unregulated breathing, wishing to change the topic to not overexert you mentally any further—what he's told you was enough and it wasn't like he wanted you to dwell on that story. he simply wanted you to know.

"forgot to."

giyuu knew quite well as of now that you tended to, much to his dismay, forget to have some of the meals throughout the day, and it didn't make it better when you could even skip lunch because of training or meetings or anything at all. once, he even told you that he was going to forbid you to enter the training grounds unless you've had at least two meals throughout the day. it's safe to say he physically couldn't do so, so for that period of time you and your exercises were safe.

giyuu didn't need to hear more from you. standing up from his sitting position on the engawa, he then offered you a hand to help you up. and with the gesture, you both knew that there was no need for more words.

the silence in the small soba restaurant never bothered you; it's a place where people came to eat, not to talk, after all. you two were the only people inside for now, but the sounds of utensils clanking and the smell of more food being cooked in the kitchen were very much present, and still, besides that, it was silent.

and still, your mind never seemed to get over how giyuu just brushed your inability to utter something reassuring off. maybe he didn't even want and didn't need the comfort you failed to provide; maybe he expected something like that from you, judging from your earlier reaction to his words just as he'd started talking. yes, he must've known you were bad at feelings, especially other people's, but was he used to it? he undeniably looked like he was, and that was just sad.

chopsticks carefully picking up the soba and guiding them into your mouth, noticing giyuu doing the same near you, your mind picked up the thought that, probably, saying something regarding what he told you about would be inappropriate, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of needing to get something out; something that could just show him that you understand him that much, at least.

"sabito would most definitely be out to get you for the mindset you have now."

out of the corner of your eye you notice that giyuu's hand, previously holding his chopsticks with a bit of noodles picked up, stops. it's not at all an abrupt stop, more like when coming to a thought one's mind has been chasing for a while already. you stop, too, having finished chewing.

and when the silence between you two starts feeling a little too long and a little too tense, and you start thinking that you may have said a very wrong and inappropriate thing, giyuu speaks up in a such relaxed and unimpressed manner that you involuntarily start questioning your choice of words. you'd expected him to get mad or upset, but not—

"you for yours, too."

oh.

"...touchè."

well.

the nights are—mostly—always silent.

the nights spent with giyuu are silent in their own, unmistakable way.

you two seem to create another form of serenity together—everything becomes as still as possible, wind appearing barely once for a few moments to ruffle the trees' leaves and then disappear without a trace.

your head is gently laid on giyuu's lap and gaze fixed on the night sky above with the stars filling the inky abyss, each sparkling more than the previous, as if trying to catch your attention, your eyes move from one to another, wanting to get a look at them all, wanting to engrave the look of them in your mind and keep it here; but there was just so much — you aren't sure if there even exists a number as big as the number of stars up there.

("do you think we get a star out there after death?"

"...maybe."

"would you try to look for mine when i die?"

"..."

"...sorry."

"...i would.")

with giyuu still looking somewhere in front of him—you can't quite decipher where, maybe he's just spaced out—your hand somewhere a bit lower your chest and his hand laying loosely over yours, you close your eyes and slowly inhale the night air; it smells of pine and momentarily happiness.

a few moments later giyuu's head tangibly shifts, and, having little self-restraint when it comes to curiosity, you open your eyes again—maybe he'd be looking at something different now?

and as your eyelids open, you find him to be staring at no one other than you.

eyes usually cold as a snowstorm and endless as the abyss above you both have now descended to endearment and devotion as they look into yours. they twitch slightly lower and to the side, watching your lips for a few seconds, before coming back upwards to your eyes.

he's so enchanting—close to being as enchanting as the stars he's now blocking your view of. maybe he even looks like one in your mind, or maybe it's just his endless eyes, the colors of which blend into the matching endless night sky. you notice yourself not minding the blocked view if the one doing it is giyuu.

with the main sight now being his eyes instead of the gleaming celestial bodies—you can't exactly complain—you feel like staring into them an eternity more, and then another and another until you've memorized each and every pattern in them. and you're sure that if eyes could talk, both your and his would scream affection.

"you're blocking the view," you say, having no more stars to see right in front of you, them being replaced with giyuu's face.

"you seem to be enjoying it all the same," giyuu declares, unimpressed, despite his eyes narrowing the slightest bit in amusement. you're pretty sure his mouth's corners nearly curve upwards. you would've loved to witness him smile, especially at the moment.

you hum quietly, eyes wandering over his face—how can one attract so much? and it's not just about his beauty; he's everything you've ever needed and didn't know you ever needed in your life. "i never said i wasn't enjoying it."

giyuu, too, can't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from you—starting from your eyes as well, they descend lower to your lips (he's a very patient man), neck—and he regrets both of you being too shy and humble to try and leave hickeys on each other, he would enjoy that sight very much—then your uniform which just suits you so much, and, in the end, your hand, one of which is held by his—when did he go from it simply lying on top of yours to holding it?—and he involuntarily laces your fingers together slowly, eyes following each and every movement. your hands are almost just as his—arms a bit scarred underneath the clothes, skin on the palms calloused from holding your katanas, along with healed nicks and occasional cuts.

humming as well in acknowledgement of your words, his gaze follows the trail back to your face and settle back on your eyes. he has to remind himself to not look into them too long, fearing he'd get too lost in their infinite beauty.

"we could stay like this forever," giyuu suddenly speaks up, and with the quietness of the words said they don't seem to disturb the silence at all.

"we could."

you get what he's trying to say. there was never enough time for both of you since the moment you've joined the demon slayers, and then the hashiras, signing yourself a death warrant when doing so; it's pointless to deny the truth and the inevitable, and you both long learned to embrace it.

but all the sadness and inevitableness can be forgot at times like these, right? even just for the night or for a few hours before the two of you go back to your routine duties.

"but what would you do then?" you continue, being tempted into asking the question with the smallest teasing lilt in your voice, as if prompting him to speak about his feelings about you.

feelings are hard, especially for someone like him—especially for someone with the past and job he has—but slowly, bit-by-bit, step-by-step, you try to get him to understand them, even if you're lost in your own and sometimes can't find a way out of your own feelings. you guess it comes with the job.

guyuu stops to think for, maybe, a bit more than a minute or two, and lets the silence embrace both of you again. again, it's never tense with him (you don't really want to remember the time he told you about sabito, though it still lingers in the back of your mind and comes up in the most unpleasant times), as you two gratefully grab onto the every little bit of serenity and peace you have.

while he thinks, your gaze, once again, roams over his face, with the twinkling stars now serving as a simple background for what—who—you're seeing, being a pleasant compliment to the sight in front of you. moonlight obligingly illuminates a great half of his face, letting you see most details on it, and who would you be if you missed on this opportunity?

nearly just as he's about to start talking, his lips opening and, dear gods above, he can sense your eyes shifting to his moving lips. it's always with you that he feels like a teenager—not really lovey-dovey, but it's a fact that he lets himself be more open to feelings with you.

"i would..." giyuu starts, taking a small break before continuing—to gather his thoughts, knowing you're watching him as intently as you can, and it's not in the least bit uncomfortable as it would be if it wasn't you.

"i would look at you," he says. "for the rest of eternity. i wouldn't want to do anything else besides it."

as he finishes speaking, you slowly but surely feel the tips of your ears becoming a shade of red; thankfully, it's not your face. yet.

"is that so?" you manage to whisper out, taking slow and barely audible breaths to try and calm your fast beating heart. he probably can hear it with how your back lays on his lap, but that doesn't really matter. "wouldn't you get bored?"

"never."

you're sure your face gets a small tint of red.

you, involuntarily, hold your breath after his words, eyes widening a tad bit, and it's only a few seconds later that you quietly exhale the air you didn't know you have been holding in.

the words he says are so simple—but he does have a way with them, and that's what makes you love him more and more with each syllable leaving his lips.

there's moonlight illuminating his—and your—face, and you seem to notice it just now. it shines onto a great half of his face, letting you see even more details on his skin, and if it was illegal to stare for so long, you'd be long behind bars, living your worst ever imaginable life without having something as precious and pretty as giyuu to look at.

his eyes shift. you get the hint just as his gaze moves onto your lips—you've been looking at them so attentively, it'd be a shame if you didn't notice that.

having taken a, supposedly, not so fitting of a position to kiss, you have to sit up using your hands and place them on the grass beneath you to hold yourself up, and your face moves just enough for him to understand. you don't make any rash movements; you're careful but your intentions are evident.

giyuu's face shifts closer, too. it moves forward until he feels like both your and his lips are soon to meet together. one look into each other's eyes is all it takes for his appearance to soften and lean towards you.

your lips touch in a kiss and you feel like you could die right now and there because of how soft it feels, coming from him, usually so sharp and harsh; it feels like your lips are melting together but you don't have it in you to mind—it's been far too long since you two have had any time to yourselves and your small affections and you don't know when you'll have another night like this.

his eyes settle closed the same time as yours do, and as much as you like looking at him, it just helps the atmosphere around you even more. giyuu's lips slowly, gently move against yours and you just happen to think of how tender they are, and that warms your chest more than anything.

it's silent and wordless with giyuu, and you just happen to love it.

[ichatake]

Hii! Can I request a Kakashixreaderxobito fic where the reader is helping Obito “re enter” society and they basically become best friends( but Kakashi starts to feel weird about it because he actually fell for the reader too (but refuses to accept love because duh) ya know, some angst to get through the week 🕺 I hope that makes sense hahaha thank youuu so much! 🫶

Requests are open! (Request rules)

Part. 1, Part. 2

A/N: This is one of my longest works I’ve ever made tee hee. I really hope you enjoy!! (Sorry it seems a little rushed :( )

Summary: Obito, after surviving the war was allowed back into the village. You made it your mission to make sure he gets completely rehabilitated. However, a certain someone gets jealous at the loss of attention.

Pairing: Obito x reader x kakashi

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It was a process. Everything that came after the war was a process. Great ninjas were lost, and some were found. Heartbreaks and heartwarmths were felt by all the people who were affected by this dreadful event. However, they sought to move forward, and push the formidable thoughts away. Because there was no time for regret, but only determination to bring back the villages—the families that were caught in the hellfire.

You had thankfully survived the war right along with some of your comrades. You had lost some to the Ten Tailed beast, but you knew the only way to honor their lives was to remember them for the outstanding ninjas they were. They had fought their final battle alongside you, and it was time for them to rest as the brave heroes they were. Your heart had been shattered by everything that had occurred—the deaths and the revelations. The revelation of the man who seemed like the spitting image of a boy you once knew. A kind, sweet boy that strived to become the Hokage. A boy with dreams so big, he’d do anything to achieve them. Obito Uchiha.

It shattered you to see who he had become, and why he had become this new person. It hurt how he didn’t think of himself as Obito Uchiha, but as someone else. He lived as someone else. It broke you a little, because you couldn’t wrap your head around this. How could this man—the boy you once admired when you were both at the academy—become so heartless. You couldn’t understand it. However, as if the universe was trying to put the pieces back in place, Obito had a change of heart. You thank Naruto for this—you didn’t know how the boy did it, but he always managed to get into people’s hearts. And just like Sasuke, Obito was welcomed—with very hesitant open arms, back into the leaf village.

Of course, this wasn’t an easy process. There were still people who didn’t trust him, and wanted nothing to do with him. It was a hard decision to make, but everyone deserves a second chance. So, the decision was made. He would be welcomed back to the village on the conditions of having someone watch him at all times—or as they called it—being under supervision. This was, to Obito, reasonable. He had been one of the main causes of the war, so the least he could do was accept this with a good heart. The difficult part was searching for someone who would actually agree to watch him. They needed a strong ninja. One that could put Obito in his place if he ever did anything remotely threatening. They thought Kakashi would’ve been the perfect candidate, but he was now the Hokage.

However, they never expected you to volunteer. You were a great ninja. Strong, smart, truthful. You were fit for the job, sure, but they were hesitant to just let you supervise him. But, after some convincing, you were allowed to take Obito under your wing, and trust me, it was a hard process. This man had been socially secluded. He was hated by most of the villagers, and he could see it. Anytime he walked down the roads of Konoha, the people would glare and snarl at him. He was a monster to them, and he knew that. He was difficult to crack open. I mean, did you really expect him to be just like he was when he was a kid? Of course not, you knew better than that.

You would always notice how his eyes landed on the ground, and he walked with his head low. You also knew he was slightly embarrassed of his scars. They were permanent proof of everything that had happened since the beginning. How could you get him used to society again? Had you volunteered to do this with blind eyes?

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“Are you hungry?” You asked as you searched around in the kitchen. You didn’t think the ‘have him under your supervision at all times’ rule was going to be this strict. I mean, he was living with you now. It’s been about two weeks since he’s been in your house, and he’s still tense. The unfamiliar atmosphere was just… not easy to get used to. At least for him. He wasn’t used to people, or kindness, or just… this.

“No,” he mumbled while he sat tensely on the dining chair. He looked like a black dot on a white sheet of paper. He didn’t quite fit in anywhere. You’ve tried to get him to speak more, but the most you get out of him a day is a few polite sentences. That’s it.

You frown, looking back at him as he looks out the window, “well you have to eat something. You can’t just go without eating for long hours,” you say as you lean on the counter, “how about we get some ramen, I bet you’d—,”

“I don’t want to go out,” he quickly cut you off, his head snapping towards you. Although the action might’ve seemed rude, his tone was soft, and… tired. He genuinely didn’t want to go out. Not that it surprises you. This isn’t the first time he’s refused to leave the house.

You sigh and rub your face, not out of frustration, but because you were thinking of a way to convince him, “I know that you don’t like going out—I understand, but you’ll make no progress being stuck in here with me,” you look at him to see a reaction, but his face still held that frown you hated to see. “I mean, sure, you can stay here if you want to, but you already know I’m not good at conversation. I’m pretty boring,” you chuckle, your attempts to lighten the mood were pretty bad.

You walk over to the dining table and sit across from him, crossing your legs and looking out the window, “you’ll have more fun outside than in here. Unless you want me to bore you with some of my life stories,”

His brow was raised with curiosity, his interest being peeked, “Maybe not,” he says and sits a little straight, his body turning to face you. You were surprised at this, just a little. He had never made an effort to keep the conversation going. He usually just stayed quiet or gave dry responses.

“Oh come on, you definitely don’t want to hear that,” you chuckle nervously, but his eye never left yours. “We don’t know that,”

“Okay then…,” you pause for a moment before continuing what you were going to say, “I’ll tell you about a few things, and if you're not bored out of your mind, we can stay here for the rest of the day. If you are, however, we’re taking a walk,” you say, although you knew that even if he was fed up with your blabbering, he’d still prefer that over going out. With a nod, he agreed to your offer and listened attentively.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Hours had passed since the offer. It turns out, you weren’t really bored at all. At least, in his eyes. You two hadn’t spoken since his ‘death’ so he had missed out on a lot of things. It was interesting to hear all of the stories you had. You were… cool. He thought. Yeah, you weren’t half as bad as he thought you were, no offense. He caught himself wanting to know more, nodding and interrupting you sometimes to just ask about certain things. To you, this was a massive win! He seemed to be getting used to you, and he was warming up a little.

“So you teach?” He asks, amusement laced his voice, “what? Is that really absurd?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms slightly while he gently waved his hand over his face, “No, no, I just remember you as a bad teacher,”

“A bad—excuse me?” You gasp with fake offense, which made him crack a smile. Your heart almost stopped because this was the first time he smiled since he got here. “I’m just saying, remember that time I asked you to teach me about a specific Jutsu?” He asks and you nod your head, “well, I have great memories of you shaking your head in disappointment and telling me I was doing it all wrong,” he looks at you and almost cracks a chuckle,

“Okay, I was young alright? I didn’t have the patience I have now,” you chuckle and shake your head, “so, for your information, I’m a very good teacher,”

He made an expression that screamed ‘suuuure’, which made you laugh, “oh, come on, don’t look at me like that,”

He shrugs, “I’ll believe that when I hear it from your students,” he says, not expecting anything to come from it, but a lightbulb had just been lit in your mind, “Alright, then let’s go talk to them,”

His eye suddenly widens as you say this, “what?” He watches you as you stand up and grab your keys. “Lets go talk to them so you see what a good teacher I am,” you say with your hands on your hip.

“I— I didn’t really mean it like that. It was just a joke—,”

“Joke or not, you deserve to meet them. Come on, they’ll love you,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

With a lot of convincing, you had gotten Obito to go outside. He was once again going into shut off mode. He didn’t speak and his eyes were glued to the ground. However, you wanted him to look forward to going out, so you tried your best to make him comfortable. “You see, they’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” you say to catch his attention. He slightly looks up from the ground, to look at you. You were a few feet ahead of him, guiding him though the village. “This one boy, he really reminds me of you,” you look back at him, only for him to look back at the ground. “How so?” He asks quietly.

“Well, he’s very stubborn. Always having a rivalry with his teammate and—,” you stop yourself and clear your throat, “he’s just like you in different ways,” she says and stops in front of Ichiraku. Two silhouettes sat inside. “Ah, here they are,” you say as you enter, looking back at Obito with a reassuring smile. He looks at you and hesitantly enters the shop, looking at the two boys who were sitting on the other side.

They look back at you and one of them grins, greeting you loudly while the other sits calm and politely says hello. The loud one had thick black hair, round dark eyes and a contagious smile, while the quiet one was quite the opposite. It made Obito… uncomfortable. No, not because he didn’t know them or anything, but the similarities between them and Obito and Kakashi were unsettling.

“I thought you weren’t showing up,” Toko, the loud one, whines, “I’m not surprised, she’s always late,” Kenji, the quiet one says. His nose was buried in his book while his friend rolled his eyes.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” You chuckle and stand aside, “I’m here with a guest,”

Kenji lowers his book in curiosity, his pale eyes falling onto Obito with a monotone expression. It reminded him so much of Kakashi. “A guest? Where?” Toko asked, before he looked at the obvious answer right in front of him. “Oh—Oh!” He exclaims, his eyes slightly wide. “You’re—youre,”

“Obito,” you say, “Obito, this is Toko and Kenji,” you introduce them, earning an awkward ‘hey’ from Obito, and the same with Kenji. However, Toko immediately stood up in his seat, “I have so many questions,” he says with bright eyes, “I never thought I’d see you in person so soon,”

Obito was taken slightly aback, he wasn’t expecting such a reaction, and to be honest, the boy kind of reminded him of himself. “Sit down Toko,” Kenji scoffs, but it was obvious the boy had some questions of his own.

“Now, now boys, I don’t think Obito feels comfortable answering questions just yet. He’s still getting used to things and—,”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off before you continue. He sat down beside Toko, who seemed like he was shaking out of excitement. For the first time since Obito got here, he felt… visible. Like he wasn’t being judged by anyone. On the contrary, the boys looked at him not with disgust, but interest.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” you reassure, worried that he might be doing this because he felt forced to, “I’m sure,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The night went on smoothly. You were surprised at how much Obito talked—heck, he talked more with your students than with you! The conversation ranged from different types of Jutsus, to the sharingan, to the Uchihas. You had been worried all night that Toko might ask something too personal that would make Obito uncomfortable, but to your surprise, he seemed to be very at ease. Even Kenji had begun to ask some questions, to your surprise.

Of course, the night was coming to an end, and the boys needed to leave. They said their goodbyes and left, making you sit there with Obito. You were silent for a few minutes before you looked at him, “Are you okay?” You asked, concerned that one of the boys asked him something offensive.

“Yeah,” he says and looks at you, his eyes wandering your face and his lips moving as if to say something. You wait patiently for him to speak, tilting your head to the side, “what is it?”

His lips press against each other, turning them into a flat line before he finally speaks, “there’s two of them, aren’t there supposed to be three?” He asks, his eye staring deep into yours.

“Oh..,” you say and look down for a moment, “yeah, there’s supposed to be three,” you look at your nails, trying to find them interesting as the topic makes you a little saddened.

“Then what happened?” He asks curiously, not catching the glimpse of your smile fading slowly. Now it was your turn to bite your lips. You didn’t know how to bring this up because you never liked bringing it up. No one ever asked before either, because the whole village knew what happened.

“We uh… we lost her,” you say with grief, “on a mission,”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he says and shook his head, “I shouldn’t have asked—,”

“You didn’t know. It’s okay,” you smile reassuringly and pay for the meals. “I’m okay. And so are the boys. They’re strong,” you stand up and look outside, “it’s getting dark, we should probably head back home,”

“…yeah,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“So, you haven’t made any progress?” The silver haired man you know as Kakashi asks from in front of you. Considering he had become Hokage almost immediately after the war, you two barely got to see each other. Obito was currently getting tested at the infirmary for… who knows what. Kakashi didn’t give details about it.

“No, that’s not what I said,” you furrow your brows, “he’s having a hard time getting around. He doesn’t like going outside because people treat him nasty—,”

“And rightfully so. (Y/N), you might not get it, but this is the man who almost wiped the earth clean,” he says in a serious tone, “I know you keep thinking he’s like he used to be—the Obito from the past, but he’s not,”

“He’s trying—,”

“He’s a criminal,” you were slightly taken aback by his tone. You had never heard Kakashi speak about someone so roughly, and you’ve known him for years. You had become good friends since he became a teacher—so it really did surprise you. “You can’t be treating him like some old friend. You must take this seriously,”

“Everyone deserves a chance. He was your friend. You know him better than anyone here,” you say as you sat uncomfortably, “Even Sasuke isn’t being shunned to this extreme,”

“Because Sasuke didn’t start a war,” he refutes, “Then what are you suggesting I do?” You ask as you cross your arms, “I don’t get why you're being so.. so,” you look at him and sigh, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been really out of it. You know I hate mistreatment,” you rub your temples.

“It’s okay,” he sighs, “I just want to make sure you're not doing this because you feel forced to—,”

“I would never. I volunteer to supervise him, and I intend to make this an easy process for every party,” you say confidently, “after all, Obito and I are getting along just fine. He’s even met my students. I’ve seen good progress in him, even if it takes a little time,” you smile, “it’s like I’m slowly bringing him back,”

Kakashi stares at you for a few seconds—it was impossible to read his expression or what he was thinking, but his brows were furrowed together. You might've thought he had an expression of distaste if it weren’t for his mask, “I see… then that’s all for today. I wanted to check up on your progress, but I see that you are doing fine by yourself,”

You frown slightly at his words. You would’ve felt praised if it weren’t for his tone of voice. It seemed a little cold. You didn’t understand why—maybe it was because he was still bitter about everything that happened in the war, just like everyone else, but he out of all people should understand Obito, or at least, try to. “Right, then I’ll get going,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It seemed the time that you used to spend with Kakashi was replaced by Obito. You two seemed to get closer to each other with each day, and you were glad. He woke up early in the morning now, telling you good morning, and asking what you would do today. If you had to go out, he’d go with you. If you stayed inside, he’d stay with you—Although you mostly thought it was because he literally had no choice but to do so.

You saw him smile more often, and the village seemed to be accepting him more and more. All of your hard work was starting to pay off. Your students seemed to love him, and so did Naruto. Obito loved to speak with your students as well. They reminded him so much of himself when he was younger. Your friendship grew so much, he even insisted on going to watch you train your students. You were glad—no, not glad. You were happy to hear this, immediately agreeing to his request.

Currently, you were sitting down on the grass while your two students sparred, Obito sitting right beside you. “You know, they remind me a lot of how things used to be,” he says while looking at the two boys, “you really weren’t kidding when you said Toko was my twin,” he chuckles, leaning back against a tree.

“I told you,” you smile at him gently before looking back at your students. “So, have you spoken to Kakashi yet?” you ask curiously, considering the last time you spoke to Kakashi about Obito he was a little… bitter about it. You understood why, but it didn’t mean you wanted that to happen.

“No, not since after… everything,” He says with a straight face, "I don't think he’d want to talk to me ever. Not that I care much anyways, I also carry resentment,” he says, not meeting your eyes as he’s focused on the two figures in front of him. They fought hand to hand, and their friendly rivalness was giving him nostalgia. The sound of their weapons clanking made him remember just how much he and Kakashi would always fight. Rin would always watch. His face drops at the memories.

“I see,” you frown, “I just wanted to know because you two deserve to flip the page and start anew,” you look at him, “I certainly forgive you. And I don’t blame you—,”

“(Y/N), I’m not a good person,” he cuts you off with furrowed brows, “And I don’t expect anyone to forgive me. Especially not kakashi. After everything that’s happened, the best thing we can do is forget we even exist,”

“I don’t think that way,” you say sternly, “I believe everyone deserves a chance, and that doesn’t exclude you. You had your reasons—heck, you were a kid when you were manipulated—”

“Manipulated?” his head snaps towards you, “it was my decision,”

“You were a kid,” you refute, but he shakes his head, “It doesn't matter,”

“It does! You were a kid, you were vulnerable—”

“And what do you know?” he asks, a little agitated. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way, but his chest was slightly burning up. “You weren't there when it happened. You didn’t know Kakashi, Rin or me that well. So how could you possibly know what I feel? How could you understand?”

“Because I have a heart. You were a vulnerable kid who was grieving the death of someone you loved. You were filled with rage, and Madara took advantage of that,” you spoke calmly, because the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel even worse than he already was, “You didn’t speak to the people you held closest to your heart. You were ripped away from the village in hopes of false promises,” everything you said, you knew because of him. He had talked about this with you shortly after becoming more comfortable with you. You did know, you weren’t exactly there, but you did understand him.

“Please don’t live your life regretting what you did, or hanging onto hatred,” you frown and put a hand on his shoulder, “This is a new beginning for you. One that you were given even after thinking you didn’t deserve it,” you smile, “take advantage of that and work on yourself. If you’re having a hard time doing so, then I’ll help you. I will always be here for you,”

Your words left him speechless. Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. You made him feel… different. A good difference. It was like you were the thing he most longed for. You were pure kindness… It almost reminded him of Rin. No, it did remind him of Rin. His eye never left yours as he tried to think of something to say. Your hand on his shoulder felt so tender and gentle, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. “I care for you Obito,”

He stares at you for what felt like ages, but finally, he worked up the courage to say something, “thank you,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“I want a rematch!,” Toko whines, looking at the other teenager who stood crossed arms, “I already won, I don’t think you want me to beat you again,” he says and rolls his eyes.

“Okay boys, that’s all for today. Go home and rest,” you say and chuckle, seeing how Kenji helps Toko up from the ground. The boys packed their things before saying goodbye to both you and Obito. After they left, it was silent. Obito was still deep in thought after your conversation.

“Well, I need you to help me get some things. We’re kind of out of groceries and I need to restock,” you say before turning to him, “Unless you want to go home. That’s okay, I’ll do the grocer—”

“No, I’ll come with,” you were once again surprised by this, but immediately smile, “Okay then,”

It’s safe to assume that you and Obito were starting to become closer than what anyone imagined. Some might say it's too close. He seemed to smile more around you, and since some time had passed, he was now allowed to roam freely without having to be under your supervision. However, he refused to leave your side, and you didn’t mind at all. You were glad, because the bubbling feeling in your stomach everytime he laughed or made you laugh was amazing.

However, you were conflicted. For the longest time, you had always liked a certain silver haired Jonin. Kakashi was always your crush—kind of. You weren’t obsessed with him, but there was an obvious interest. You spent a lot of time together, and were set out on a lot of missions together as well. It’s safe to say that you were always together at all times. You weren’t sure if he had actually reciprocated your feelings, because he never showed any sign of interest in you. I guess that’s kind of why you started losing feelings for him as soon as he became Hokage. He was always busy, and you were too. He never seemed to be interested in you the way you were of him, so it didn’t matter.

Obito seemed to be replacing Kakashi in every sense of the matter. He was now the person you’d spend your time with 24/7. You laughed and joked with him, ate with him, lived in the same house as him. Everything you did, he was right by your side. And the best thing about all of this was that Obito seemed to be interested in you too. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the way compliments would slip out of his mouth from time to time would make your stomach flip. The way he now sits right beside you instead of across you everytime you eat just to be closer to you made you feel amazing. He was trying to be as subtle as possible, but he failed miserably. To him, you had become someone he truly cared for. You were so kind to him, even after everything. You trusted him, because you knew who he was. You understood him in every sense of his being, and he was glad. He was just so glad he had you. Because it was as if the universe reunited you two. It was meant to happen.

It seemed the tables had been severely flipped, much to someone’s distaste. Kakashi, although always busy, heard the talk of the town. He heard the rumors, he heard the stories. He heard about how you and Obito were supposedly going out. Or how you were supposedly spotted at a restaurant together. All of this, Kakahsi could handle, because he knew they were just rumors of the town. Of course the people would start to assume things like that. Obito had to be with you at all times, so of course it would stir up a few rumors here and there. But, it made him wonder if it was actually true.

What exactly were you to Kakashi? Why did he find himself caring so much about these stupid rumors going around? He never admitted this before, but you were special to him. Ever since you were kids, he had an interest in you. At the academy and even after joining the Anbu. You always had a special place in Kakashi’s heart. To him, you were priceless. You cared too much about silly things, and too little of yourself. He hated that about you, but he also loved it. Because it left room for him to love you. He always found himself thinking about you, both when he was a kid, and still to this day. He cursed himself for never telling you how he truly felt, but to him, his romantic feelings would subside with time. They didn’t, of course, he was just lying to himself.

Why exactly did he refuse to believe his feelings towards you? Well, he’s always been alone, and when he’s not, he ends up losing those closest to him. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t afford to love you when he knew that you might leave him. He couldn’t afford another heartbreak, so he treated you as a friend. He was sure you liked him, he wasn’t stupid, and he was glad. He bathed in your sweetness, and he loved it. He loved knowing that you felt the same. However, his biggest mistake was never saying anything. Because now, he was worried that you didn’t want him anymore. Now that you didn’t want him, he wanted you the most. You barely come visit him at his office anymore, and when you do, it's strictly professional. He had never expected things to go this way. Sure, he was now the Hokage, but out of all the people to treat him with such ‘respect’, he didn’t expect it from you. He thought you’d stay the same as you were. Heck, you didn’t even call him by his name anymore. It was either Hatake or Sir, and neither of them left a good taste in his mouth.

That’s why he made sure that tonight, he’d make up for all the time he wasted just pushing you away.

“You called me here for something, Sir?” you ask as you enter his office,

“You know you don’t have to use formalities when we’re alone, right?” he asks with a chuckle, earning and chuckle from you, “I mean, you’re the Hokage, it’s disrespectful to talk to you as if you’re a normal person,”

He shakes his head before sitting down, “How have you been?” he asks, waiting for you to sit down, which you did.

“Um… Well, i’ve been good,” you say hesitantly, “It’s been peaceful,”

“Is that so? I would’ve assumed you’d be stressed thanks to Obito,” he says and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. You quickly look at him and smile, shaking your head with a chuckle. You instantly melt into the conversation, as if you two had never stopped hanging out, “Oh no, he’s an angel,” you cover your mouth with a giggle, “He’s already getting used to everything. You should’ve seen him helping the seniors. They love him,”

The more you spoke about Obito, the more his expression seemed to change, “i see,” he clears his throat, “I’m glad you’re getting along,” he says a little bitterly, but you didn’t quite catch that.

“I was meaning to ask,” you look at him with a smile, “Have you gotten to speak to him? I think it would be a good idea to talk things out. He told me he hasn’t spoken to you since he got here, so…,” you look at your hands, “maybe it wouldn’t be a bother if you two got to speak. I know things are tense right now, so I wanted to—,”

“I don’t think he’d want to agree with that. We’ve parted ways. It’s better to leave things as they are right now. Let things smooth as they go,” he says, earning a small ‘oh’ from you. He noticed how your smile slightly dropped.

“But, I do have tonight free. I was meaning to ask you— well, if you wanted to go out and eat. You know, so we can catch up,” he was hopeful. There was a big chance you’d say no, but to his surprise, your eyes lit up and your smile came back to your pretty face. “Of course, around what time were you planning? Not that I’ll be busy anytime today, I’m free all day,” you smile excitedly.

“How does six sound?”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“You’re going out?” Obito asks as he lays on your bed. He had a habit of laying on it whenever he could. He would always say it was much more comfortable than his.

“yeah, I thought I told you?” you say as you look through your closet, “No, not really. Where are you going?” he asks curiously, sitting up to look at what clothes you were pulling out.

“I’m going out to meet the Hokage,” you say with a smile, slightly excited that you would get to catch up with him again. This made Obito raise a brow, “So, you’re going out to meet Kakashi,” he states with a ‘matter of fact’ tone “Yes,” you affirm and turn to him. He lays back down, but still looks at you, “Why? Is it like, some weird date or something?”

“No! We’re just going to catch up since we barely spent any time together since he became Hokage,” you say and hold up a dress, “Do you think this is nice?” you smile and show off your dress. A hand comes and pushes the dress aside gently, “It sounds like a date to me,” he looks at your face, kneeling on the bed now.

“Obito, it’s not a date,” you put the dress down, “Even if it was, what's the big deal?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying,” he stands up and walks towards the closet, pulling out another dress, This one was a navy colored one, nothing fancy, but it was still pretty “This one would look way better,” he grins “It’s my favorite color too,”

You smile and take the dress, “Alright,”

After getting dressed and ready, you say goodbye to Obito, who is still on your bed. You heard him ask for some sweets when you got back—but you didn’t really hear him well.

You were both excited and nervous. You didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you knew Kakashi wanted to catch up, sure, but you didn’t know what to expect from yourself. One day you thought you were completely over Kakashi, and now you’re questioning your feelings again. To some extent, your feelings for Kakashi were still very much strong and alive. You were dumb for thinking that you could just forget about him. However, you also felt a little something for Obito. Your mind was reeling with many thoughts. You honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. It was like Kakashi controlled what you felt, and when you could feel it without even trying. You didn’t blame him of course, but it frustrated you a lot.

After a while of walking, you finally saw Kakashi waiting for you at the bridge. You smile and walk towards him, his head turning towards you once he hears your shoes. You assume he smiled at you at the way his eyes turn into crescent moons, “hey,” he greets, turning to face you. “You look wonderful,”

“Thank you,” you reply, your smile never leaving your face as your cheeks are dusted pink. You give him a compliment in return as well, “So, where are we going to eat?” You ask, standing besides him as he begins to lead the way, “I reserved a spot at the new restaurant that just opened recently. I’ve heard real good things about it, and I wanted to bring someone special with me,”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you didn’t want to think much of it, “I see,” your cheeks were dusted pink, your lips forming a small smile as you looked down. He noticed this, and smiled to himself. After all this time, he still had that effect on you.

The restaurant was pretty different from all the others in Konoha. It was a little more modern than any other restaurant, and it just screamed expensive. “Wow, this place looks amazing,” you say as you look around, already sitting across from Kakashi, “I’m not sure I can afford to come here more than two times. It looks really expensive,” you laugh, earning a chuckle from him, “Maybe you won’t have to pay. If you come with me, I’ll definitely make sure to pay for everything. Just like tonight,” he tilts his head with a smile, his eyes closed.

“Oh no, don’t bother, I brought money—,”

“I said I’ll pay (Y/N), don’t worry about it,” he put a hand over yours when you went to reach for your pouch. You look at his hand and then at him, “Are you sure?” He nods and leans back, pulling his hand away from yours, “of course, I was the one who invited you. I’m not letting you pay,” he chuckles. He was so handsome.

The afternoon was going really well. Both were having a nice conversation during your meal—although, you had no idea how he was eating since not once did you see him pull down his mask—and were just enjoying yourselves. You felt euphoric. It was nice being with him again. You had forgotten exactly why you had fallen for him all those years ago, and today you were being reminded. He was so nice, so funny, so perfect to you. He read you like a book and listened to everything you had to say. It was just nice.

“You know, I missed this,” you say, taking the last bite of your food and smiling, “I forgot when was the last time that we actually spoke like this. For hours,” you rest your chin on your palm, “I thought we wouldn’t get to do this anymore”

“I thought so too,” he says and looks into your eyes. He fell quiet as he stared at you. This had to be the moment. He needed to tell you now, because he wouldn’t get another chance if he didn’t.

“(Y/N), I have something really important I want to say,” he says, suddenly a little more serious than before, “I want you to be honest with me,”

You furrow your brows, sitting upright and nodding, “yeah, of course. What is it?”

“How do you really feel about me?” You were taken aback by his question, “I thought you wanted to say something important, not ask me something,” you chuckle a little nervously, trying to avoid answering, but he shook his head, “I’ll tell you when you answer me,”

“Well, I think…,” you stop for a moment, trying to form the words you so badly wanted to utter. ‘I’ve been in love with you for the past fifteen years,’ is all you wanted to say, but you couldn’t. Not when you were torn between telling him and forgetting Obito, or just never telling him at all. “You’re a wonderful person,” you say, and look at him. However, it seemed like that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “And I appreciate you a lot, for always being there for me for as long as I remember,”

The table was now quiet. He seemed to be thinking of what to say, and you were nervously waiting for his answer.

“Do you like me? Romantically,” he asks again, now going straight to the point, making your heart beat faster, “what?” You ask, gulping down the lump in your throat.

“Because I like you. I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember,” he declares, making your heart almost stop. You didn’t expect this. You never would’ve expected this. He had never treated you romantically in his life, so what was the occasion?

“I… Kakashi, I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows, “If that is really true, how come you never told me before—or at least dropped hints,”

“I didn’t want to give you false hopes. I wasn’t sure before, mostly because I was afraid to get hurt,” he admits, “but now I’m sure,”

“But why now? Why now all of a sudden?” You ask, the timing seemed weird. How come now, that you weren’t speaking as much as before, he wanted to confess. Why now?

“I.. don’t know,” he blinks, “but what matters is that I told you,”

“I.. Are you being genuine?” You frown, “because the timing seems a little strange. I don’t understand why you suddenly seem interested in me. I mean, we haven’t hung out, we haven’t spoken—you never showed interest in me before this moment. Why is it that now you suddenly want to say this to me,” you didn’t understand why you weren’t happy. I mean, you liked him, of course, but it felt strange.

The puzzle pieces didn’t fit, and the only reason as to why he was seemingly starting to take an interest now, was because you were spending more time with Obito. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but come on, it was plausible. It made sense if you thought about it. They technically hated each other, and it was no secret they were rivals and will always be rivals. It looked as if now that Obito was winning your attention, Kakashi wanted it back.

“Of course I’m being genuine. I’ve always liked you,” he frowns, “Do you not like me?”

“It’s… it’s not that. I just, I don’t think I want anything right now. The timing seems off and I— I just don’t know if I’m sure of what I’m feeling,”

The air seemed to get tense the more you spoke. You seemed conflicted, and Kakashi knew why. He knew why you were conflicted. “This is about Obito, isn’t it?” He suddenly asks, making your head snap towards him. “I…,” you didn’t know how to answer, because to some extent, yes, it was about Obito,

“I knew it,” he leans back, “you like him,”

“It’s not like that,”

“Then why is it that you suddenly changed your mind? I mean, I know you like me. Or at least liked. So why else would you not accept me?”

Now that makes you uncomfortable. He was speaking the truth, but the way he said it sounded wrong.

“Kakashi, things change,” you begin to explain, but you never expected what he said next.

“(Y/N), you can’t just fall for him. I’m not sure if he likes you, but if he does, it’s not genuine. It’s not fair to take advantage of someone who obviously has never been treated nicely before. Of course he’d fall for the first person to show him an ounce of respect,”

Your jaw dropped at his words. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. You had to process everything twice just to make sure you weren’t making things up. Kakashi had to admit he was talking out of frustration—since he wasn’t getting you easily. But this reached a whole different level.

“Unbelievable,” you finally say, reaching for your pouch and pulling out money. You slam it onto the table and stand up.

“(Y/N), wait—,”

“I want you to know that Obito deserves to be loved too, you know. Don’t you ever tell me I’m taking advantage of someone just because I love them,” you scoff and take your things, starting to storm your way out of there. Before you could leave, Kakashi caught your wrist, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to convince, but you pull your arm away, “I know what you meant,” you snarl and finally exit, leaving a guilty Kakashi behind.

The walk home was hot. You felt hot all around. You were angry. Angry and hurt. His words kept swirling in your head.

‘It’s not fair to take advantage of someone who obviously has never been treated nicely before,’

Who did he think he was? How could he even say that? It hurts you. It hurt you because you liked him so much, but this? This made you think about what you felt. It made you question things.

Maybe you were overreacting. You didn’t know. Right now, you didn’t want to know. You got home and quickly stormed towards your bedroom after locking the door. You looked disheveled—and once you reached your bedroom, Obito quickly sat up from your bed, “you’re here early,” he says, but quickly stopped when he saw your red face. Concern washes over him as he stands up, “hey, what’s wrong?”

You stay silent, taking off your shoes while shaking slightly, “(Y/N), what’s going on?” he asks again, coming closer to you and placing his gentle hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,”

You finally look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. You were so mad, so frustrated, that you couldn’t hold back your tears, “what’s wrong?” His voice was so gentle, so soothing. It was exactly what you needed right now. You had possibly ruined your relationship with Kakashi—no, you didn’t ruin it. He did.

“I just,” you choked as your tears finally fell. You hated crying. You hated that you cried when you just wanted to yell.

Instead of pushing you to speak, Obito pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as his hand held your head and pushed it towards his chest. It was so warm. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers, his fingers gently tangling themselves into your hair. Your arms found themselves wrapping around him as well, holding onto him for what seemed like hours. Yet he never moved. He never uttered a word to hurt you. On the contrary, he let you know he was there for you. This is what you needed…

“Thank you, Obito,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Days passed by since what happened at the restaurant, and today was the first time since the incident that you were called to the Hokage’s office. You felt dread wash over you when you received the message, you didn’t want to go, not after what happened. Oh, had I mentioned how Obito and you now seemed to be inseparable? That interaction had built a strong bond between the two of you. No words were spoken that night, but they didn’t have to be. Both of you created a connection no other person could achieve.

With every step you took, your body felt heavier. Dread consumed you and you couldn’t seem to open the door to his office. You didn’t know what to expect… however, you managed to build the courage to enter his office, straightening yourself and walking towards his desk, “you called for me, sir?”

His head tilts upwards to look at you, “Yes,” he answers dryly and pulls a scroll from his desk, “a mission for you, out in Kirigakure,” he waits for you to take the scroll, watching you intently. You felt as if his eyes were burning holes onto your skin. You reached for the scroll and took it.

“Take both your students with you,” he adds, and looks down at some papers, “that’s all,”

You weren’t expecting this attitude, but then again, what were you expecting? You felt weird. “Right, thank you,” you say, bowing respectfully before turning towards the exit. As you were about to open the door, he called for you. You turn your head towards him, and wait for him to speak.

“Just know that I’m sorry,” he says, which you simply nodded and left. Once you were out of sight, your heart dropped to your stomach. ‘You should’ve said something’ you thought, mentally facepalming. ‘He was trying to apologize and you just left? You’re so stupid’ you insult yourself as you walk out of the building. You wondered what this mission was about, but you didn’t check until you were back home.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The mission was simple. There were some ninja terrorizing the village and they needed some help catching them. It wasn’t an S rank mission, but it was still pretty high up there. You assumed the ninja were pretty darn strong if you had to be sent out.

“A mission in the mist village?” Asked Obito as he peeked over your shoulder to see what the scroll said. “Apparently. It’ll take a few days I guess,” you sigh and place the scroll on the desk of your room, going to grab a bag to pack some things. Obito read the scroll with furrowed brows, “why couldn’t he send Naruto and his gang? I mean, they could handle it themselves,” he asks and watches you pack, “because they’re busy with their own missions,” you say, throwing some clothes and tools into your bag, “I have to leave in a few hours, so please keep the place tidy,” you say, turning towards him.

“Of course,” he shrugs and sits down on the bed, “and make sure to eat well—and don’t drool on my pillows this time,” you laugh as he blushed slightly, “that was one time,” he argued

“I know, I’m just messing with you,”

Once it was time to leave, you took your bag and wore your headband. Obito followed behind you as you walked towards the door. “Hey,” he called before you opened the door. You turn to him and raise a brow, “what is it?”

“Please be careful,” he says, obviously worried, “I mean, I know you’ll kick ass, but please be careful,” he smiles at you worriedly, but you grinned reassuringly, “don’t worry Obito, I’ll come back in one piece,” you chuckle and open your arms. He immediately leaned in to give you a strong hug, and for a moment it seemed like he didn’t want to let go. However, you needed to leave and he let go. He smiled gently and pinched your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you soon then,” he says and you nod, leaving him behind. You wondered what he’d do while you were gone, but decided it was better to keep your mind focused on your mission.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Now while you were gone, a surprise arrived at your doorstep. When Obito answered the door, it was two of Kakashi’s secretaries. “Obito Uchiha, you have been summoned to the Hokage’s office on urgent request,”

Him? What for? Although Obito wanted to ask these exact questions, he only nodded and followed them to the building. He hadn’t been called there for about two months, what could he possibly be called over there for.

Once they arrived, he was left alone in front of the office doors. Everything seemed different. The village itself had changed too much since the last time he was there—well, when he was a kid. He shook the thoughts away and entered the office. Finally, after two long months, Kakashi and Obito were back face to face.

“You called me,” Obito states, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waits for Kakashi to speak. The silver haired man looks up from his paperwork, his dark eyes burning into Obito’s.

“Yes, we need to talk,”

[ellllsia]

Levi's main love language is acts of service. It's all about the smallest things, which would be second nature to him. You're having trouble with your gear, he will have it fixed without you even knowing about it. You said you were hungry, and a peeled apple would be waiting for you on your desk. If he ever sees you crying, he would simply wave his tissue in front of your face, prompting you to take it. If you try giving it back he would wave you off claiming that it's too dirty with your tears. But the truth is he just wants you to have something that's his, something that would remind you of him. If your horse is acting up ? No worries, Levi will calm it down and even help you get on it again. Right, he wouldn't miss a chance to get close to you.

So, moving on to his second love language: physical touch and proximity. Levi is very much touch deprived. Hence, he seeks comfort in your touch or at least in being close to you. If there's a meeting, he always makes sure to sit next to you. If you all are on mission in the woods and there's a bonfire, just know that no matter how close to the fire you could be or how far, Levi will be seated right next to you. He couldn't care less about the cold because one look from you and he's feeling so warm, inside and out. He would always pat your head. Once you start dating, hugging you would be his favourite thing to do, from the back with his arms draped around your waist or shoulders as he kisses the top of your head or nuzzles your neck, (I'm blushing so hard right now ).

Next in line is quality time. He just adores being with you, by your side, giving you his undivided attention, though very subtly that you don't even notice. But he does. He listens, and he cares, storing everything you say somewhere in his memory. He watches so carefully and takes many pictures with his grey eyes that he stores deep in his heart. Also, if you're ever focused on him, he would get a tiny bit flustered, and his ears would go red. He solely cherishes the way you look at him. He wouldn't, couldn't look away.

Levi doesn't strike me as much of a gift enthusiast, but like always, you're the exception to the rule. I believe he would treasure the littlest thing you could gift him, and in return, would give you the world. If there's a pretty flower or leaf around, he would pick it and march towards where you're seated and would place it on your lap, muttering about how it reminded him of you.

Levi doesn't really vocalise his affection much. But, one day you would be training and pushing yourself a bit too hard and when Nanaba asked what was wrong, you would explain how you've been feeling useless due to all your comrades dying and you not being able to do much about it. Levi ,who witnessed the whole scene, came by your quartes later, looked you straight in the eyes, took your hand in his caressing them, oh so softly, "You are enough, you are doing good by staying alive and fighting in the name of all that we've lost, don't you start questioning yourself after we- after I have put my trust in you. You who has always been so bright and hopeful, don't doubt that we'll make it in the end, together, "he whispered, looking so fond. He then turned around and left you awestruck and teary-eyed.

[7ndipity]

Long Distance Relationship Headcanons

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: How Namjoon would handle a long distance relationship with his S/o

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Thanks to @gottafightwhentheysaybehave for requesting this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I could see him doing rather well with a long distance relationship. He loves traveling, so the chances of him falling for someone from abroad is not unlikely.

He might hesitate a little at first due to overthinking, but y’all would quickly find a system and routine that works for the two of you.

Sending pics and voice messages to each other throughout the day about whatever you’re up to so that you feel included, even if it’s just cleaning.

You’ve actually had entire arguments through just voice memos over the dumbest shit like the proper way to load the dishwasher.

Video call dates where you just keep each other company as you make dinner or while he’s in the studio(plays you tiny spoilers of new music he’s working on to tease you)

He doesn’t exactly send care packages, but he does send random lil gifts he finds that remind him of you, like art prints, plushies, keychains, etc.

Straight up just sent you a leaf one time. It fell on him when he was in the park one day and he just decided to keep it for you bc he heard it was good luck.

Has a joint spotify playlist with you so that y’all can listen to music together.

Another member who would like to surprise you with weekend visits, but being the spoiler king that he is, he ends up letting it slip.

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay?” “Ah I can’t, I’ll be at the airport.” “Why?” “... no reason.”

It’s fine tho, y’all prefer to plan your visits together so you can make the most of your time together.

Calls you a lot late at night when he’s really missing you, but he doesn’t want to admit that’s why. “I just had a question about that show you were watching…”

He really tries not to let on just how much he misses you, but his facade completely cracks when you're physically together, holding onto you like his life depends on it.

“I changed my mind, please move here. I need you with me.”

@sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @captainorangegoose

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[onlyswan]

(in which . . .) the first collection of my drabbles feat. my beloved muse jungkook! ★

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timeline masterlist | main masterlist | spotify playlist | kofi

© onlyswan / i do not allow reposting, translating, or modifying any of my works in any platforms. please do not claim them as yours.

—

FAQ:

• when and how did they meet for the first time?

- answered: in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night (refer to second col.)

• how long have they been in a relationship?

- 2018 until present time <3 anniversary date revealed: in which you don’t want to give up on jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to) [refer to second col.]

• when did the breakup happen?

- june 2019: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give (refer to second col.)

• there are sexual or suggestive themes/scenes and allusions to sex in some drabbles but i do not write smut/pwp.

—

> “i have created my own worst enemy.” “jungkook, it’s a plushie.”

> “you can lean on me. you can always lean on me.”

> in which jungkook gives you a concussion

> in which one of jungkook’s love language is biting

> in which you have so much love but not so much time

> in which jungkook wants to live forever with you and you love his pretty hair

> in which jungkook likes cooking late at night

> in which you come home drunk and jungkook is confused the entire time

> in which you can’t sleep and jungkook reminisces

> in which you’re jungkook's lip balm fairy and you love his dimples

> in which you’ve found comfort in laying on top of jungkook and you just . . . won’t let go

> in which you and jungkook visit your hometown and a typhoon welcomes you

> in which you and jungkook eat breakfast (in?)front of the fridge

> in which you and jungkook go on an amusement park date

> in which you wake up in the middle of the night without jungkook by your side

> in which jungkook loses you in the grocery store

> in which you and jungkook are just two young souls deeply in love

> in which it’s your turn to take care of jungkook

> in which it’s pouring outside and jungkook is craving s’mores

> in which your feet are hurting but jungkook’s little joys in life are top priority

> in which jungkook is a breath of fresh air and bam loves you

> in which jungkook is team not okay for the perilla leaf debate

> in which it’s jungkook’s turn to steal your clothes

> in which you get your period and jungkook just wants to be with you

> in which you entertain yourself with jungkook’s hair and make a dream come true

> in which jungkook loves much harder than orpheus

> in which you say i love you to jungkook for the first time

> in which you and jungkook splurge on in the seom

> in which you come home tipsy and jungkook is upset

> in which you always come home to jungkook

> in which you and jungkook go on a spontaneous drive

> in which jungkook doesn’t understand you sometimes

> in which you and jungkook get your hands full . . . literally

> in which jungkook loves you, and he wants you both to eat well

> in which jungkook loves doing nothing with you

> in which you really don’t get want to get upset at jungkook, but you are

> in which jungkook kisses you for the first time

> in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak

> in which nightmares are made of terrors but jungkook is an evening star

> in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes

> in which cruel fate leads you and jungkook to bright places

> in which jungkook says i love you for the first time

> in which jungkook doesn’t mind you waking him up— he just wishes it’s not when he’s in the middle of a good dream

> in which christmas is upon us and jungkook just wants to say that he loves you

> in which jungkook won’t tell you what’s wrong and you get emotional motion sickness

[venerawrites]

Hi! I feel so blessed to have found your blog, your fluff is top tier 🫶🏻 Can I please request fluff for Kakashi x fem!reader where they take their son (who looks exactly like Kakashi) to meet Team 7 and they're all enamoured by baby Kakashi and how happy he is with wife reader? I feel like it'd be so cute~ I hope that's an alright request. Thank you so much! 😘

author's note: this is such a cute request and it has been sitting in my drafts for a while, since I have been waiting to be in the right mood for it! It was such a pleasure to write it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you for requesting! <3

If there was anything Konoha did best, it was celebrating.

Compared to many of the other villages, the Leaf had some form of a festival almost every month. The first Sakura trees have blossomed? Celebration. The war is won? Celebration. The Hokage has a birthday? Celebration. 6 months without any outside threats? Celebration.

For the outsiders these constant festivities were both bizzare and a bit foolish. They could only imagine how much money were spend from the yearly budget, yet somehow the village blossomed economically. The other Kages tried to ask Lady Tsunade more than once in the past how exactly do they manage to do that, but they could never get anything more than a smug smile from her.

You, unlike your husband, loved a good party. During events like this everything felt different - the people were happier, the streets were busier, even the air felt more fresh! You have been waiting for the Spring festival for a while now - not only because you loved trying all the delicious street food, but also because this year you were taking your baby with you.

Being only a few months old, your son was an exact copy of Kakashi. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips, even the way he pouted was absolutely the same as your partner. There were times when you sat next to his crib, looking at him for hours, trying to find at least one thing in his appearance that he may took after you. While there were none, you found solace in the fact that he showed at least some traits of your personality - the main one being obsessed with Kakashi, of course.

As you watched your husband gently rocking your child in his arms and whispering sweet words to him, you couldn't stop the smile from spreading wide on your lips. Kakashi hasn't noticed your presence by the door yet, too busy booping your baby's nose and listening to his happy laughter.

He was definitely the favourite parent.

"I can't believe I carried him for nine months and I am still the second best in his eyes", you finally said, making Kakashi whip his head in the direction of your voice. He smiled sheepishly at you, his one free arm extending for you to take.

"You know that is not true, my dove", he tried to reassure you, his attention moving back to the bundle of joy who kept twitching in his grip, "No one can replace mommy! Isn’t that right, little man?"

Almost if understanding his words, the baby turned toward you, reaching one of his small hands toward your face. You immediately melted at the gesture, before carefully grabbing it in yours and lying numerous small kisses on his little fingers.

“Do we really have to go?”, your husband groaned, looking at you pleadingly. If it was up to him the three of you would stay in your house, enjoying a cosy evening just playing and goofing around the living room. With his new role as a Hokage, your time together was limited anyway and he liked to grab any chance he got to spend a few hours with you at home.

“You were the one that promised Naruto you would finally let him see the baby”, you cocked one of your eyebrows and Kakashi immediately shut his mouth, knowing he cannot argue further.

Even since you told Team 7 that you are pregnant, Naruto has shown an enormous enthusiasm about welcoming the baby. He self proclaimed himself “the best uncle to ever exist” and has bought dozen of plush toys and clothes before you even found what the gender is. Both you and Kakashi found this amusing, yet cute, promising him that he would be one of the first people to see your son once he is born.

However, things didn't go as planned and since he was on a mission outside Konoha for the last three months and a half, Naruto was now one of the last people to meet your child. Sakura has asked you countless of times during this period to let her and Sasuke come to your house, but feeling it was unfair to Naruto, you refused every single time.

Now that the blonde was back, however, all three were eagerly waiting to meet the young Hatake.

Kakashi gently passed you the baby, while he went to the corridor to grab the baby carrier wrap he liked to use. One thing about your husband was that he absolutely refused to use a pram.

"It is safer for them to be close to me", he often said, not even hiding his overprotectiveness. Despite your baby already being the village's favourite, he only allowed people to watch him, but never touch him or hold him. It was almost like your son was some kind of a rare jewel, which was so delicate, it had to be admired from a far. And while you found Kakashi's behaviour funny, he was being very serious about it, going as far as to glare and hiss a warning at Guy and Genma every time they tried to pinch your baby's chubby cheeks.

Once the little one was safely wrapped against your partner, you both made your way toward the village centre, where you could already hear music sounding. The streets were flooded with both adults and children, who were all eager to try some foreign food and watch special performances. Every year there were entertainers coming from different lands, performing traditional songs and dances from their cultures. While you knew you couldn't stay for all of them, since you had to put your child to bed quite early, you were excited to see at least some.

You felt one of Kakashi's arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him, while he shielded your son's body with the other one. While there were none real threats or risk for any of you, the amount of people made the man anxious. You were just about to grab his hand and try to make him relax, when Naruto's loud voice sounded from somewhere in front of you.

"Kakashi-sensei! Y/N! Over here!", he waved his hands energetically in the air, while both Sasuke and Sakura looked away embarrassed from his behaviour. Your smiled at the blonde, waving back, while your husband couldn't do anything else than let out a sigh.

Once you were a few meters away, the Uzumaki ran toward you, his whole face lighting up once his eyes met those of your son. He pushed past you, without even paying any attention to you, before leaning his head close to the baby's.

" Kakashi! That's your twin, dattebayo!", he shouted and moved his finger between his sensei and your son. Kakashi flicked his hand away, glaring harshly at his student. You sniffled a laugh, before you felt Sakura's hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you offered a smile to both her and Sasuke.

"Don't touch, step back and only watch from a distance", Kakashi instructed, his eyes narrowing at Naruto. The blonde, however, didn't acknowledge his words in any way, instead turning toward you.

"Can I hold him?", he asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

"No!", Kakashi immediately answered for you and you rolled your eyes at your husband, before moving toward the males.

"Of course you can!", before your husband can protest, you gave him a stare and he reluctantly picked up your son from the carrier wrap. He held him in his hands for a few more seconds, eyeing Naruto with suspicion.

"Be very, very, VERY careful!", he said, while passing the wriggling baby to the boy's stretched out arms, "And make sure to support his head! No, not like that... Naruto, I swear to Kami-"

You cut off the white haired male's rambling by wrapping your arm around his waist and placing your head against his shoulder. The Uzumaki was doing just fine, but Kakashi being Kakashi started to panic just at sight of someone else holding your little treasure.

The baby seemed to like the blonde, as he giggled, stretching his small hand toward his face. Sakura, who has been patiently waiting for her sensei to relax a bit, immediately rushed to her teammate's side, uncapable of controlling herself longer. She wriggled her forefinger in front of the child's face, her heart melting once he caught it.

"Hello, little one! I am auntie Sakura!", the baby grinned at her with its toothless smile and she let out an "aww" sound, before turning to you and your husband, "Kakashi-sensei, he really is your exact copy! Y/N, are you sure that's your child?"

You laughed at her joke, before shrugging your shoulders and pressing yourself closer to Kakashi.

"Trust me, I ask myself that every single day!"

Finally tearing your gaze away from Naruto and Sakura, you looked over to Sasuke, who remained frozen in his place. His eyes were focused on the little baby and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but unlike his teammates he maintained a safe distance. Feeling someone was watching him, he turned his head in your direction, his cheeks going bright red once he realized you caught him staring.

"Sasuke", you smiled at him and everyone's attention went to the Uchiha, "Do you want to hold him too?"

The dark haired male gulped, his eyes widening. He nervously scratched his shoulder, his gaze going down to his feet.

"I...", he became silent, stealing one more glance at the baby. You found it almost amusing how he was a fearsome ninja that could take dozen of enemies at the same time, yet he felt scared to hold a tiny human.

Looking over at Naruto, you nodded your head, signalling him to pass your son to Sasuke. The blonde let out a huff, dragging his feet toward his teammate.

"Be careful! And hold the head!", he warned the Uchiha, who rolled his eyes in response.

"I know how to hold a baby, dobe! I am not stupid!"

"Language!", Kakashi warned next to you and you looked up at him, only for him to shake his head. It must've been hard dealing with these two for so many years, yet you knew your husband wouldn't had it any other way.

At this moment, surrounded by so much love and happiness, you felt like you finally had everything you wanted in life - an amazing husband, a healthy child and enormous support by anyone around you. If you could choose to re-live only one moment of your life, it would be this.

"You okay, my dove?", Kakashi whispered and you nodded your head, laying a small kiss on his covered chin.

"Never been better."

Unbeknown to you, all of Team 7 smiled at both of you, admiring how happy their sensei was. After decades of suffering and loss, Kakashi took the leap of faith and opened his heart to you. While he was unsure in the beginning if he was ready to be with someone and have a family, looking back he was glad he did.

Pulling down his mask, he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against it.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

cc artwork: Pietro Smurra

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 28: Filming

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: With your honeymoon almost over, Bucky wants to capture some precious memories on film.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, masturbation, oral (male receiving), slight daddy kink, spanking, slight mention of reader feeling insecure in front of the camera when it’s up close, but she fully consents to being filmed

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: the penultimate part!! I’m gonna miss these two at the end of Kinktober. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Bucky has you in his lap, hands splayed on your ass and his tongue in your mouth.

You had tentative plans for today that included leaving your beach front resort to go snorkelling, but when Bucky reminded you this morning that you only had a couple days left of your honeymoon, you decided staying in bed naked with your god-like husband was a much better use of your time.

“You wanna try something new?” Bucky mumbles against your lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his fingers trail tantalising swirls up and down your spine. His bare thighs are sturdy underneath your own, and his tattooed chest firm below your fingertips, but the softness in his eyes makes you melt into him.

“With you, always.” You reach between your bodies and begin stroking him, preparing for what you're certain is about to take place in the expanse of your bed. Bucky groans in response, the noise the most enticing sound you’ve ever heard. “What did you have in mind?”

Bucky Barnes, the King of New York, rarely ever looks bashful, but there’s a shyness to the way he gazes at you in this moment that makes your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“I was thinking… we have our wedding video, how about we make a honeymoon video too?” There’s something so very electrifying and alluring about the thought of immortalising your love for each other in the form of a sex tape. Capturing your most intimate moments and every angle of how perfect the two of you fit together. Something only your sets of eyes will ever view, but that will commemorate the month in your life where Bucky has made you feel the sexiest and most alluring you ever have.

The moment trembles between you, quivering with tension like a raindrop clinging to a leaf as you bite your lip before nodding in excited endorsement. Bucky surges forward, cupping your face and crashing his pillow soft lips to yours as you relax into his familiar, musky scented embrace that will forever be your definition of home.

With his insanely strong arms, Bucky lifts you from his lap, and places you with your back against masses of pillows. A jolt of exhilaration zaps through you as you’re reminded Bucky can quite literally manhandle you any time he pleases.

He grabs his phone, which had been charging on the nightstand, and holds it up as if he started recording instantly. Just the look of pure wonder and excitement on his features is enough for a desperate ache to grow between your legs.

“Touch yourself, baby. Rub that pussy for daddy.” You spread your legs wide to give Bucky and the camera the best view of your glistening folds, gathering your arousal on your fingers before focussing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Show me how gorgeous you look when you touch yourself thinking of your husband.”

Every time he refers to himself by that moniker, it makes you even wetter. Your husband. The man who stood in front of everyone you knew and promised to love you forever. Your souls now entwined for eternity.

And if Bucky had his way, so would your bodies.

The way Bucky seductively licks his lips as he watches you pleasure yourself makes you more turned on than you thought possible. Imagining it is instead his fingers playing with your nub, you draw tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, your breathing quickening with every flick which Bucky seems to enjoy as he watches you intently through his camera with a delighted smile.

His large frame looms over you, inching the camera closer every second, completely enthralled by the little whimpers cascading from your lips and how your two fingers stimulate yourself and not wanting to chance missing capturing any of it on film.

Bucky groans when you slip your fingers inside you, you’ve never been able to reach the spots he can with his massive hands, but with him watching over you, filming you, you do your very best to give him a show that will be worth watching over and over again.

Drowning in your own pleasure you almost miss how Bucky starts stroking himself with his hand not in possession of his phone, already as hard as a rock observing the pornographic scene in front of him, but your mouth begins drooling at the realisation when you look over to him.

James Barnes, one of the most influential men in the whole world, your husband, is getting off to the picture of you masturbating, precum beading at his tip, all because he enjoys the sight of you spread out of a bed just for him. He has that look in his eye as if he wants to lick every inch of your body, devour you, but behind that is indecision, as if he’s enjoying your show far too much to interrupt for his own selfish reasons.

But as he pumps his thick length watching you intently, your chest also fills with a yearning desire to consume him, and you give in a lot quicker than Bucky does. You crawl over the bed, swaying your hips and putting on a show for the camera which is still recording your every move, before dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Is my dirty little slut desperate for daddy’s cock?” Having the camera this close to your face as you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick makes you slightly insecure, but Bucky has forever praised both how beautiful you are to him and your skills taking him in your mouth, so when he gazes down at you with the most smitten look you’ve ever seen and an anticipation where he can barely keep the phone steady, you forget all about the camera recording you and instead focus on pleasing your husband.

You choke on his cock as he hits the back of your throat, tears welling along your lash line as you push yourself down him as far as you can physically take, while maintaining the stimulating, circular pressure on your own clit.

“That’s my good girl, fuck your throat feels amazing” Bucky proclaims, affectionately rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he lets you set the pace, bobbing up and down his thick length, moaning around what you can fit in your mouth. “You look so hot gagging on this fat dick.”

You continue to suck him off with as much vigour as you can muster, until you get light headed, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, tears spilling from your eyes. Pulling off him, you look up at the camera with swollen lips, probably looking like the picture of pure debauchery. Given the look of utter devotion Bucky shoots you from behind his phone, you suspect he rather enjoys the sight.

He slaps his dick on your extended tongue a couple times, before you swallow him again, having caught your breath enough to continue.

Your thighs start to feel weak as your fingers focus on the bundle of nerves between your legs, and all of a sudden your orgasm comes out of nowhere, hitting you like a bus. You’re looking up innocently at the camera, taking all of Bucky in your mouth as pleasure sparks and rages like a wildfire in your belly, consuming your entire body. Moaning around his cock, you continue to furiously rub your clit as per Bucky’s growled instructions, dirty praises in the sound of his voice filling your ears even though he sounds far away.

Bucky gazes at you with a combination of awe and a craving need, moving the camera closer to your contorting face to capture every moment of pure pleasure as it floods through your body like a tsunami. He gives you his signature alluring smirk as you come down from your high, that one which always suggests he has much more in store for you yet.

He motions for you to get back up on the bed, all the while keeping you in the centre of the cameras shot.

“Show me that ass baby - yeah that’s it, the camera’s got the best view of this fucking perfect ass.” Bucky punctuates his sentence with a delicious slap to the fat of your butt, the short sting only making you drip with even more wetness to show the camera and your core ache to feel utterly full of him. “Gonna see how you take every inch, like the good little whore I married.”

As he thrusts inside you, starting at a brutal pace which has you gripping onto the bed sheets for dear life, you recognise Bucky is fulfilling his promise of keeping you satisfied and stuffed full of his cum throughout your honeymoon.

And now you’ll have the video evidence to prove it.

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @Inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

[my-darling-boy]

It’s horrible how my design course has killed my enjoyment in creativity because all they want is finished pieces founded in nothing but a spontaneous mark just to hang at some concrete art gallery or to sell to some “join our revolution” comfy business-casual company with a prison cell wellness room. I’m not saying that it’s “not art” —cos that’s a different post altogether— it’s that the ethos behind this particular formula for art education is ruining the way we think about creation.

Design courses (and other art courses I’ve heard?) are no longer teaching artists or designers techniques, drawing skills, art fundamentals and allowing them to find their own voice so much as they are only instructing how to tic boxes alongside pushing corporate and classist motivated style/methodology bias aimed at producing workers, not creatives, not to mention providing Adobe with endless funds for their despicable scam programs. That’s it. My creativity is only a means to money for them, and if they can extract the process of creation from me without the complex creative intimacy involved in it, they know they can churn out products and services faster and it’s concerning some lecturers don’t seem to be aware this is what they’re teaching? Like they’re buying into industry propaganda?

And the whole time it’s sold to you like you can be some trailblazer when the irony is they’re usually either prepping you for cubicle work or for some misguided high horse creative team pumping out design solutions completely divorced from the reality. I’m tired of all the talks about sustainability in a vacuum with no conversation about nuanced designs that factor in broader social and economic perspectives which lack thereof is leading to sustainable products being sold at a price only able to be afforded by wealthier people who are causing said economic and social problems and contributing to the rapid obsoletion of trades and crafts. Lecturers and speakers don’t seem to think that’s any of our concern and should just worry about producing the design for the hypothetical Bluetooth powered organic hairbrush or using the twigs to make the pattern for the £85 fabric square.

Like? Can I please make something that actually resonates with people outside the circle jerk of egotistical creatives and corporations? Something charming and maybe idk something that doesn’t make me want to tear my miserable portfolio in half with my teeth? And they’re like Mm nope sorry it has to be an extreme close up of a mark making abstract leaf you made from a recycled trash bag inspired by a stalled urban space which we will force you to price at £100 during your exhibition 5 people will bother to attend and no you’re not allowed any other style cos this isn’t the Dark Ages :///

I think the worst thing my lecturer ever said was, while looking around the room of our class work reduced down to a series of cubes and splatters and abstract typography, “Wow, I love how you can’t tell what anyone’s [main artist discipline] is!” Like awww conformity at the expense of a person’s individuality to make pieces for airport hallways and rich people’s living rooms wow so cool heehee like girl that’s not good?? Why on Earth are you complimenting us for that? Like I get it, I thought this course would boost skillset as an illustrator (as we were told), turns out the degree is really not for me, fair enough to anyone thinking that, but forcing students to produce modern abstract art because you think it’s the ONLY Logical Pathway for the future of design, judging them intensely for doing a different style, and thinking producing financially inaccessible art + design is the solution to things like climate change and community severance is an objectively bad take.

[munsonhoneybaby]

Too Much in Common | Series Masterlist

✩ ♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Summary: (Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader) After meeting the Dungeon Master of your adopted little brother's D&D club, you find that the two of you have some shared interests. As you spend more and more time sneaking around together, telling Dustin about your relationship becomes a growing concern.

Word Count: 22.5k (three main chapters)

General Warnings: 18+ mdni, frequent drug use (marijuana), metalhead!stoner!reader, fwb to lovers type relationship, smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p in v (protected and unprotected), subspace

A/N: I consider the main series complete with these three chapters, but my requests are always open for these two !! There are a lot of details, backstory, ideas, etc. that got left out to keep the word count from getting too unreasonable, so I'd be happy to expand a little bit if that's what people want !!

main series

chapter one - Too Much in Common

chapter two - Dustin Doesn't Know

chapter three (finale) - Sweet Leaf

blurbs + headcanons

‘I Love You’s

Meeting Wayne

The Fishnet Promise

Becoming a Henderson