: ̗̀➛ fluff warrior. everything i write is fluff. angst if i’m going through it. but i’m still a fluff girlie through and through. please send recs.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ few words for you
: ̗̀➛ writers man, you guys absolutely rock i love y’all so much you can ask me to go to war for you and i will lead millions. thank you for the life you create – and yes, life, because fanfics isn’t strong enough to describe what your mind and talent actually birth.
& to my occasional beautiful glorious readers, i may love my little hyperfixations but it’s truly social bonds and the most precious sense of community that drives me to write (although not finishing much of my drafts and almost never posting parts 2, sorry). thank you for your likes, your reblogs and most importantly your comments, they are always immensely appreciated and so galvanizing and also take me back to wattpad comments era which was the prime of my existence that i forever miss in agonizing nostalgia.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ welcome to my blog
: ̗̀➛ éli, she/her, entp
: ̗̀➛ traditional disclaimer that english isn’t my first language!! yay!! other than that i’m very boring so unfortunately very low chances of ao3 cataclysmic lore on my part. i promise to do an a/n if that does happen though.
: ̗̀➛ i’m learning a shit ton of languages btw so please feel completely welcome to make me practice interact with me in english, spanish, and french, and also in chinese and italian but you wont be guaranteed a comprehensible answer for those two. also very much looking for spanish youtube channels/ books/ music recs pleeease
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“elle éblouit comme l’aurore,
et console comme la nuit.”
- baudelaire, “toute entière” – les fleurs du mal.
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éli’s mp3: cat burns, the cranberries, leon thomas, francis cabrel, the smiths, naïka, christian nodal, st levant, the walkers, olivia rodrigo, luis miguel, the goo-goo dolls.
éli’s current daydreams’ protagonists: kakashi, shikamaru, shisui, mirko, bakugo, kirishima
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
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this is an inclusive space, intolerance is not tolerated.
tags : fluff, banter, friends/frenemies to lovers, mentions of blood/pain
synopsis: you’re bleeding out, chopper’s not here. infuriating, cocky, stupid law must now save you.
or in which nami and usopp hype each other up to interrupt what they think is happening between law and you.
a/n : i wrote this on wattpad around 2019 so, even though it has been edited since, please have mercy on the story.
"oi! law! " usopp’s voice teared through the hill like an eagle’s shriek, his obvious panick catching the ear of the surgeon of death. “y/n got stabbed– or slashed? i mean, she’s injured! she’s dying!”
he was bent under the weight of your body, heavy in his arms, as he ran desperately towards the crew’s hiding spot in the land of wano. by his side, nami was the picture of worry itself. eyes wide, hair wild, her hands were clasped around your wound like she could stop the blood from spilling out.
“we can't find chopper! help us!" she shouted as law came into vision, stepping out the entrance of the refuge.
when the trio finally reached him, one look-over made his jaw clench.
"we weren't supposed to cause any trouble," he scolded angrily, hands shooting left and right to prepare a table for you to lay on. "y/n is a lost cause– everytime. bring her here."
usopp nearly hurled you on the metallic surface, wheezing at the effort.
you jumped in pain. “oi– wait until after i’m dead to throw me around,” you hissed, holding your throbbing side.
“don’t joke about that!”
"and here i thought you were unconscious. i really can't get any peace," law muttered as he ripped the clothes above your injury.
"shut up, ugly doctor," you growled between your teeth – the pain obviously preventing you from thinking long enough for your usual snarky responses.
law paused, raising a defiant brow.
"i can also just watch you slowly die in pain y/n. that sounds very tempting right now,” he states coldly. “i wouldn't upset me if I were you.”
usopp choked, coughing before he could yell at him to save you while nami implored you to just shut up and let the man heal you.
"uh. you wish you were me. wouldn't look that dumb everyday-AAAH" a yell ripped through your sentence when law emotionlessly, harshly pressed on your injury. it stopped the bleeding, but at the cost of a thousands bolts of pain shooting through your body.
you threw your head back – it banged against the surface, but you had to bit down another scream.
the pain was insane, yet you’d be caught dead before letting the guy you hated get the satisfaction of seeing you suffer.
law disinfected the injury, cleaning the wound, assessing the damage. his frown grew deeper, which didn’t escape usopp and nami’s attention, faces pale with worry, hovering and leaving him almost no place to move.
feeling the sniper’s fast, wet breath against his neck was his last straw – law snapped, turning around to glare at your two crew mates.
“oi, you two! you better leave us alone. go wait outside!”
under his icy stare, they immediately complied. their steps stopped right outside though, no doubt leaning against the wooden wall to eavesdrop.
"so unprofessional," you got out, but a chuckle sent you in a violent coughing fit, blood spurting from your lips. you whipped with a shaky hand.
"stay still," he ordered – erasing any trace of worry in his voice to make sure you wouldn't taunt him about it later.
you rolled you eyes, but complied. you fought the throb of pain long enough to curiously watch him prepare his surgery tools. but eventually, your eyelids shut down as you swallowed another hiss of pain.
feeling a sudden wave of discomfort, you huffed loudly, enough to catch law’s full attention.
"i’m so fucking hot.”
“now’s not the time to joke around, y/n,” he replied, annoyed.
you gasped in indignation, mouth opening and closing, disbelief stealing the words. this little shit…!
“fuck you!” you finally spat, before the pain silenced you. “ugh– i meant i’m hot as in warm, you asshole. how could i possibly mean it in another way? you’re the worse fucking doctor i’ve had, law, and some drunken sailor once stitched back my–“
another jolt of pain swallowed the rest of your story, but law did not comment. he simply clicked his tongue, brushing it off.
"tch. so vulgar."
"and so dying too, now can you please get this robe off me?” you squirmed uncomfortably, the heat making you dizzy. “or do i have to keep telling you what’s your job?”
perhaps it was hallucinations but you could have sworn law’s cheeks were pinker than usual. but by the way his hands hovered for a second, hesitant, you suddenly reciprocated his feeling of uncharacteristic shyness.
“m’ wearing clothes underneath,” you mumbled, fleeing his gaze. “just… saying.”
the surgeon cleared his throat, and in a few movements, cool air licked at your skin. the sensation was so soothing you didn’t think about the fact that you were left in nothing but your shorts and a large bandage circling your chest.
red, bright and vivid, stained your entire right side, dripping on the table and soaking your bandage.
law’s eyes twitched at the scene, and a string of curse fell from his lips.
"damn it, y/n,” he scolded, sanitizing some tools you’d rather not look at too long. “how did you even manage to get hurt like this?” it’s not like you, he almost added but shut his mouth instead.
"fucking samouraïs," you spat between gritted teeth. "i officially hate swordsmen. even zoro-"
a painful hiss interrupted you – you panted heavily, fighting to stop your energy from slowly leaving your body.
"– especially zoro," you kept going. "’m gonna blame him for everything they did."
law held back a smirk at your dramatic fit. at least you still had enough fight in you to still spit a hundreds hyperbole per minute.
"he is your crewmate," he simply stated back, intending to keep you fully conscious – and riled-up, though he suspected that was your natural state.
"oh yeah, but his true nature is swordsman. and swordsmen are the worst. they always show off with their swords as-"
"aren't you two friends ?"
"-owned the world– but, no mister, it's not your large, skinny knives that are going to maAH FUCKING HELL!"
you suddenly jerked and folded on yourself in pain, violently gripping law’s shoulder – he yelped in surprise.
"let go of me, idiot!" he hissed as your finger dugged further into his muscle – thereby keeping your bodies closer than what he was used to. “do you actually want to die?”
unaware of the blush spreading on his cheeks from either fluster or anger, you yelled in panick, wriggling around to try and see what he had done to your injury.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" you shouted in agony.
finally stealing a glance at the bloodied wound, your eyes zeroed in on a shiny, tiny needle sticking out from inside your skin and you screamed.
"oh my god, is it inside of me?!"
the doctor groaned as he slipped out of your death grip, pushing you back firmly flat against the table in a laying position. but instead of complying, you swung an arm around his neck, hissing in pain, holding onto him for dear life.
"stop holding me like this!" he snapped, pinning both your wrists on the table.
"law, it hurts so much!" you whined, ignoring him – tears nearly rolling from your eyes. surely he wouldn’t let you die? right?
the man was quick to get back to his stitching, trying his best to ignore you constant moans and screams of pains.
"don’t be so loud!" he ended up yelling back at you.
"go faster for god’s sake!" you retorted with vehemence.
“how are you not passed out already,” he mumbled under his breath.
raising your left arm to cover your forehead, you bit your lips harshly to contain the pain.
you knew better than disturb a doctor while he was trying to save your life. but you were in insane pain and it was partially because of Law.
on the other side of the wall, usopp’s eyes squinted with suspicion while nami’s eyebrows were raised so high they could nearly fly off.
nami, once past her stupefaction, relaxed and shrugged with a proud smirk.
“i mean, i always knew they had a thing for each other," she sniggered. “damn, i should have bet on it.”
"what?! I thought they hated each other!" the man whispered-yelled, eyes and mouth wide open.
the redhead brushed off the statement with her hand, shaking her head like she knew better.
"that’s just an excuse. they’re too prideful to admit it to each other,” she explained, pointer finger raised in the air. “so they hide behind… violence. and sarcasm. now that i say it out loud, it sounds even worse.”
usopp stared, dumbfounded but still nodding like it made sense.
"but nami… isn't y/n gravely injured ?" he frowned in worry.
nami crossed her arms arms on her chest, a disapproving expression on her face.
“yes, i’m very disappointed in law. he should know better,” she paused to try to catch more sounds coming from the hiding place, but couldn’t hear anything. “but at the same time, we can’t be sure they are…”
“right, they probably aren’t.”
“right.”
they nodded in silence.
“but what if they are? we should just check and stop them if they are, no?” usopp finally broke down, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks.
“yes. go!”
“what? law’s going to kill me if i do!”
“well, just do it discreetly!”
“why don’t you do it?!”
“i don’t wan’t to see them in this situation!”
“me neither!”
“too bad.”
“let’s just do it together.”
the redhead gave up, sighing, and both stepped silently in direction of the entrance. taking a deep breath, usopp twisted the doorknob, slowly pushing the door.
"hey you two–“
nami’s voice died in her throat before she could even begin her sentence.
fortunately, law and you were not doing what they thought you were doing – something widely inappropriate and dangerous, given your state.
but the scene was still improbable.
your body was still laying on the table, blood dripping on the floor. but now, you were pulling repetitively on law’s coat, the fabric tight between your fingers, like the soothing motion could help you focus on anything else but stitches that throbbed on your side.
surprisingly, law was allowing it. even more surprising, he had paused his procedure for a moment, taking the time to wet a towel and softly pressing it on your forehead to ease your fever. he was mumbling something the two strawhats couldn’t quite catch.
usopp nearly choked when the surgeon gently brushed your forehead, his fingers moving wet strands of your hair out of your face.
"they get along now ?" the sniper silently asked with round eyes.
"looks like it," nami mouthed back.
they stared for a second longer, still not believing the two of you weren't throwing threats at each other's faces. then, nodding to each other, they decided to let the pair settle things before going in again and check on you.
your eyelids fluttered as you fought the sweet call of closing your eyes. you didn’t want to. there was something so peculiar about watching Law's face upclose. his brows had relaxed now that the hard part was over. now, he focused on cleaning your stitches with his usual impassibility.
you kind of liked when he focused on you instead, like he had been just then.
"tch. I bet you're enjoying seeing me suffer," you muttered, earning a blank stare from the man.
"i’m a doctor, y/n. i don't take any pleasure in watching my patient dying."
dying.
once the word registered, you jumped up on your ass with a jolt, the wet towel on your forehead unceremoniously flying off to smack law in the face. meanwhile, you had already grabbed in by the collar, shaking him in panic.
"i'm dying?! oh my god, i'm DYING?! oh no, oh no, please no-“
law grunted as he forced your hands open to let his coat go, yelling back at you. bickering was a common occurrence between the two of you, but this time, the man had the responsibility of your health and could not afford your gesticulation.
"you’re NOT DYING,” he snapped, slapping your hand away. “stop being dramatic!”
"dramatic?!” you gasped in indignation. “you’re called the surgeon of death for a reason!”
"not for that reason, idiot" he shouted back, catching both your wrist in one hand. “now if you don't want to truly die, you better rest and not move," he quietly ordered, his face inches away from yours.
his eyes were scanning yours, searching for another sign of rebellion. you were gritting your teeth, jaw clenched.
he squeezed your wrists harder to get an answer from you.
"you’re not my mom," you complained childishly, losing a bit of your nerves under his radiating eyes.
"i’m your doctor. you do as i tell you or next time, you better know how to stitch yourself."
a sly smile stretched your lips as you registered the comment. the pirate’s face still hovered above yours and you raised an eyebrow, challenging.
"my doctor, uh? mmh, that’s new,” you tilted your head innocently. “say law… do you want me to join your crew or something?"
an imperceptible shade of pink spread along the curve of his cheeks in reaction to your teasing. he slightly opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off :
"because according to the lattest news, my doctor is still chopper. y’know. small, furry, adorable. so definitely not you."
law immediatly let go of your hands like they suddenly burned him. he took a step back, exhaling sharply and shrugging off quickly the embarrassment from the slip-up.
aw. it wasn’t often you could fluster him. why did it have to be over so quick?
"you know what i meant,” he replied coldly. “i’m the doctor in charge of your injury. but feel free to disobey my instructions, i have no problem watching you suffer.”
a beat passed before you let out a low chuckle. “kinky.”
law ignored you, except when you tried to get up and sit again – his hands firmly caught your shoulders and pushed you back into a laying position. a pout decorated your lips as you watched him resist effortlessly your renewed attempts to rise.
a staring contest followed naturally, but you quickly lost interest, letting your eyes explore the curves of his face instead. admiring his dark hair, his tan skin, his intense gaze that, very inconveniently, set the butterflies in your stomach ablaze.
“law?”
no answer. you chewed your bottom lip softly, hesitating for a second before spilling your thoughts.
“i don’t know if it is the anaesthetic talking–“
“i didn’t give you any anaesthetic.”
“–but i really feel like kissing you.”
that seemed to catch him off guard enough to lessen his hold. his gaze flickered to your mouth, but quickly focused back on your eyes.
his lips curled into an imperceptible smirk. “yea?”
you nodded, feeling the heat from earlier flooding back.
“well, you’re a big girl. take what you want.”
you could have rolled your eyes if you didn’t feel so giddy. fortunately, from the way his entire body had tensed in anticipation, you knew law reciprocated the feeling.
in a second, you plopped yourself on your elbows, and – despite him putting a show of telling you to make the move – law dived to reduce the last centimeters between your faces, his lips capturing yours feverishly.
you melted into his embrace, your heart jumping from its cage. law swallowed each of your sounds like a starved man. when you twisted your torso to deepen the kiss, two strong hands grabbed you by the hips, manhandling you carefully – without breaking the kiss – to sit you upright.
“don’t move around,” he grunted in a breath, expert fingers hovering over the bandage he had wrapped minutes ago.
of course, even in this situation, the surgeon cared about your injury. weirdly enough, that thought let a gentle warmth settle all over your stomach. you smiled against his lips, slowing down the kiss until only your foreheads connected.
you pressed a final kiss on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth.
“thank you for taking care of me, doctor,” you whispered before pulling away, eyes sparkling with mischief.
law looked down on you, almost stoic – but a smug expression betrayed him.
“next time, try defeating your opponent for once.”
your face fell immediately, a frown replacing your smile. “ha. ha. asshole.”
the man huffed – which, in his world, was him bursting out of laughter – and absentmindedly tucked a wild strand of your hair behind your ear.
you repressed a smile.
“you’ve never really answered my question,” you finally ended up saying with a smirk, your mind jumping back to your previous conversation. “are you dying for me to be part of your crew?”
your interrogation was met with (another) long staring contest, during which law’s confidence made you squirm with excitement for his response.
“i didn’t answer because it is pointless,” he finally replied, voice low, leaning into you. “we both know you wouldn’t leave luffy not matter how much you’re dying to kiss me like that everyday.”
you choked on your saliva.
“you little-“ you glared at him, but your eyes caught sight of something behind him – his katana, leaning innocently against the wall.
you gasped.
“holy– i forgot you were a swordsman too! that’s where the audacity comes from! get away from me– get away you frea–“
two warm lips shut you up.
surprised, you surrendered immediately, melting into the kiss. but almost a few seconds after, law pulled away brusquely and stepped away, leaving you longing for more.
summary: for a man who has survived by expecting every attachment to end in grief, allowing himself to love you means learning to trust, to return and to imagine a future in which you are both still there
word count: 1,370
content: kakashi x gn!reader, fluff, references to kakashi's grief/trauma/losses, communication difficulties, protectiveness
a/n: requested by my lovely kakashi anon!! i hope you enjoy these! 🖤 once again i have put an emotionally repressed man under a microscope to examine the exact ways he would learn to be hopeful again
A relationship with Kakashi would feel like discovering hidden warmth in a house you had mistaken for empty. His love does not arrive loudly, it gathers in the smallest spaces, concealed beneath dry humour, habitual caution and the cultivated ease of a man who has survived by pretending not to need very much. Loving him means learning to recognise devotion in the hand resting briefly against your back, the light left burning when you are late, the familiar orange book lowered whenever your voice changes. Being loved by him means finding that, somewhere along the way, Kakashi has quietly made a home of you.
Kakashi falls in love so gradually that he does not realise it has happened until your absence begins to alter the structure of his day. He is accustomed to keeping people at a careful emotional distance, close enough to protect but never close enough to become essential, and initially he treats you with the same friendly evasiveness he offers everyone else. Then he begins remembering which drinks you prefer, taking routes through the village that pass places you frequent and saving observations because he knows they will make you laugh. The realisation comes in an ordinary moment when he turns to tell you something, finds you are not there and feels the disappointment settle far too deeply. By then, you have already become part of the private rhythm of his life.
His affection is expressed most naturally through subtle acts of service. Kakashi is unlikely to make grand declarations when he can sharpen your kunai, replace the groceries you have nearly finished or repair the loose hinge you mentioned once three weeks ago. He notices inconveniences with a shinobi’s precision and removes them before you can even ask, often disguising the gesture beneath a lazy shrug when you thank him. If you tease him for being thoughtful, he will insist that the task was bothering him anyway, but the faint curve of his eye betrays him. Kakashi has lost too many opportunities to care for people so with you, love becomes something practical he can do every day.
Earning Kakashi’s trust is a slow process, but once given, it is unexpectedly complete. He may share stories from his childhood without ever explaining how they still hurt, offering facts where another person might offer feelings and watching carefully to see what you do with them. He needs to know that you will not pry open every silence or treat his grief as a puzzle you are entitled to solve. When he finally begins speaking plainly about his father, Obito, Rin and Minato, it will happen without ceremony—maybe late at night, his voice level and his gaze fixed somewhere beyond you. The most important thing you can do is listen without trying to rescue him from memories that have already happened. Kakashi does not need you to erase his dead, only to remain beside the man who survived them.
Physical affection with Kakashi begins casually and becomes indispensable before either of you acknowledges it. At first it is a hand at your elbow in a crowd, his knee resting against yours beneath a table or his fingers briefly brushing your shoulder as he passes behind you. He likes touches that he can pretend are accidental because they allow him to seek reassurance without admitting he needs it, but familiarity eventually makes him bolder. In private, he gravitates towards you with the unconscious persistence of a tired animal searching for warmth, draping an arm around your waist and resting his face against your hair. He sleeps more deeply when you are tucked against his chest, though he will deny this even while tightening his hold whenever you attempt to leave the bed.
Kakashi delights in teasing you, particularly when he knows you are trying to remain composed. His humour is dry, shameless and delivered with such perfect nonchalance that it may take you several seconds to realise what he has implied. He will murmur something outrageous beside your ear in public, then retreat behind his book while you stare at him in disbelief, his expression the picture of innocence. The habit becomes especially dangerous once he learns exactly what makes you flustered, because Kakashi is observant enough to catalogue every caught breath and averted glance. Fortunately, he is equally susceptible to being caught off guard; sincere praise, unexpected boldness or a gentle tug at his mask can reduce the Copy Ninja to stunned silence.
His notorious lateness becomes noticeably less severe where you are concerned. Kakashi will still arrive late to casual plans, usually with an excuse so absurd that challenging it only encourages him, but he pays attention to the difference between making you roll your eyes and genuinely making you feel unimportant. If an occasion matters to you, he appears on time, and often early, although he lurks nearby so you will never know. The change reveals more than any apology could. He spent years teaching himself that attachment ends in grief, so keeping a meeting is its own little act of faith, a promise that he expects both of you to be there when the appointed hour arrives.
Conflict with Kakashi is rarely loud, but his composure can become its own kind of barrier. He is skilled at retreating behind reasonable words and an unreadable expression, particularly when an argument touches a fear he would rather not name. You may find yourself frustrated by how calmly he can discuss the surface of a problem while avoiding its emotional centre entirely. A healthy relationship requires you to recognise the difference between giving him space and allowing him to disappear, and it requires Kakashi to learn that silence is not always protection. He will never enjoy exposing the rawest parts of himself, but if you tell him plainly that his distance is hurting you, then he will return to the conversation and make the effort because loving you matters more to him than winning.
Kakashi is fiercely protective without wanting to confine you. He respects competence and would never mistake love for ownership, so he does not demand that you remain somewhere safe while he faces every danger alone. Instead, he learns your strengths, accounts for them in his plans and trusts you to make your own decisions, even when fear makes that trust difficult. His protectiveness reveals itself in smaller ways, such as positioning himself nearest the door, tracking your chakra in unfamiliar surroundings and going unnaturally still when someone threatens you. He knows you are capable of defending yourself but that knowledge does nothing to lessen the cold fury of discovering that you were forced to.
Domestic life with Kakashi is unexpectedly soft, untidy and full of companionable silence. He leaves books in inconvenient places, steals bites from your plate despite ordering the same meal and performs household chores with either astonishing efficiency or complete neglect, depending on his mood. He loves sharing space without requiring constant conversation. He likes you occupied with your own interests while he reads nearby, one foot hooked lazily around your ankle as proof of connection. These ordinary evenings become precious to him because they ask nothing heroic of either of you. After a life measured in missions, memorials and emergencies, Kakashi finds profound comfort in hearing you move through the next room and knowing that, at least for tonight, everyone he loves is alive.
Loving you gradually teaches Kakashi to imagine a future he once believed was meant for other people. He might deflect early conversations about permanence with humour, not because he regards the relationship casually, but because hope frightens him more than loneliness ever did. Even after he accepts that you intend to stay, part of him remains superstitious about speaking happiness aloud, as though naming it might invite the world to take it from him again. Still, his language slowly changes from if to when—when the mission ends, when winter comes, when the two of you finally repair the garden gate or take that journey together. Kakashi’s deepest declaration is not only that he loves you, it is that he has begun making plans in which he survives, returns home and finds you waiting there for him.
tag list: @sunday-kisser
All rights reserved. Please do not repost, copy, translate, plagiarise, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs are deeply appreciated; reposts are not permitted.
digital drawing is genuinely so hard idk how y’all do it. it’s like i’m back at 12 yo… though it may also be because i never learnt proper anatomy or shadow work or rendering or perspective or wtv
tags : fluff, slightly suggestive, tension, sanji being a simp and zoro being an asshole, jealousy
synopsis : zoro refuses to take a taste of sanji's pastries... unless it's on your lips and flavoured rhum
"y/n-darlinggg!" sanji’s voice rang out from the other side of the merry, melodious as ever. "do you want some biscuits I made for you?"
your gaze brushed over the entire boat, searching for the source of the noise. it wasn’t long before you spotted a blur of blonde hair racing toward you with a tray of freshly baked treats.
rest time had come.
a chuckle escaped your lips, and you soon let your dumbbells fall to the ground, massaging your burning calluses with a satisfied grin.
"wouldn’t miss that for the world, chef," you flashed him a bright smile when he entered the training room – spurring him, as usual, to twirl in delight.
“a sweet treat for the sweetest of all,” he bent down, holding up a tray filled with colorful pastries that already made your mouth water.
“all that? for me?” he nodded vigorously, and your smile widened. “thank you, sanji. you’re the best!”
you truly measured the extent of your luck the moment your teeth cracked open a chocolate ball and flavors exploded on your tongue.
"holy shit," you cursed in bliss. "sanji, this might be one of your finest work, you genius. this is amazing!”
upon hearing the praise, the lovesick cook dramatically fainted, clutching his chest and going off on a passionate rant about your grace and beauty.
only when you nonchalantly suggested that nami and robin might enjoy a taste did he release your hands, pushing the rest of the tray towards you, and dashed back into the kitchen.
fancying a bowl of fresh air to accompany your snack, you almost stumbled over Zoro’s large body, sprawled on the floor against the wall of the gym.
even in his sleep, the man was still scowling.
“oi,” you nagged his leg with your feet. “you’re in the way.”
no movement. you could easily jump over him, but who would pass up a chance to annoy the grumpiest swordsman?
“wake up marimo,” you shouted a bit louder, kicking his thigh. “i know you’re not even sleeping. you’d be snoring like a beef.”
the comment was enough for zoro’s eyes fluttered open, irritation already coating his face and a vein popping out of his forehead.
"’course i’m not fucking asleep. you swooning over the shitty cook woke me up.”
your mouth dropped open in indignation. “swooning? when did i even swoon?”
he looked up at you, before imitating you, in a high-pitched voice, “oh you’re the best sanji, you’re a genius! make me food everyday!”
you scoffed at the scene – something you never witnessed him do was certainly talk like that. sitting down on the ground in front of him, you raised a brow.
“i did not say that. of course he’d make me food everyday, he’s our cook.”
zoro tsked. you chuckled, before shoving the tray in his face, offering him the food. his right eye landed on it with a disdainful look.
“now are you going to keep being jealous or eat something?” you smirked.
you knew the swordsman didn’t usually bother with snacks unless it was mealtime – not like sanji would ever waste time cooking him snacks in the first place. but he just worked out and probably could use the extra food, as sweet as it may be.
yet, instead of grabbing a cake, he closed his eye and went back to sleep.
you stared at him, unamused.
"did you just ignore me?"
his mouth stay shut, yet it slight quirked up into a sly smirk, and you realized he was doing it to annoy you. well, if he wanted to play that game…
"fine," you sighed, dramatic. “guess I’ll just have to eat all of these delicious pastries by myself…"
you scrutinized his face for any reaction – a tick of muscle, a quiver in his eyelids – but the man remained impassive. nevertheless, you knew lunchtime was a long time ago and his stomach probably wouldn’t refuse a little something to make the wait until dinner easier.
therefore, despite his lack of reactions, you continued your way through the tray, munching loudly and savouring each bite. "mmh, strawberry. oh, and this one’s caramel.”
you kept listing off each flavour you tasted, trying to stir him, make him give in and fall to sanji’s cooking skills.
the only time you caught a sign of awareness was when you complimented the cook again, “damn, sanji is a godsend.” zoro’s jaw ticked.
but since that, he didn’t budge, and you began to think he actually fell asleep.
great, you thought with a roll of your eyes. this is going nowhere. i should have just enjoyed my snacks on deck, facing the sea.
but just then, the distinct taste of saké exploded in your mouth. you glanced in awe at the small cake you had bit into – or rather, the half that was left.
a devilish grin tore your face in two. your revenge was about to unfold.
"oh my god," you exclaimed, excitement in your voice, grinning. "saké and praline! delicious."
just as you expected, zoro opened his eye with a rumble, his muscular torso rising as he scanned the area. so predictable.
"give me the saké."
you scoffed.
oh, now he was paying attention.
"it’s in this cake," you clicked your tongue, annoyed, "that you, unfortunately, refused to eat."
"don’t play with me, y/n. hand it over."
now who did he think he was? ignoring you, then ordering you around? right.
he’d have to do better than that. you held his demanding stare, brushing off the warmth spreading in your body from the intensity of his gaze.
"would a ‘please’ kill you?” and because you knew that was the one thing that would really annoy him, you added, “sanji is much more polite than you. you should take notes.”
“y/n," zoro’s voice dropped dangerously low – to that tone that made your stomach tie itself into knots. gods, riling him up was your favourite sport.
"what?" you quirked an eyebrow, playing coy. “i’m just saying. also, you refused my offer. don’t go back on your word now.”
zoro leaned in, invading your sense, his imposing figure towering over you and his arm resting casually next to your knee as he closed the space between you.
"give it to me, woman."
his tongue swept over his lips, like he was already tasting the sweet alcohol he so wanted you to surrender. it drew your eyes to his rugged and chiseled mouth, and your heart skipped a beat. damn it.
forcing an eye roll, your palm hit his broad chest as you vainly tried to push him away.
"yeah, right, use brute force and assault me, go ahead. I’m not letting you have it.” you swallowed hard, because if you were honest, it was hard to keep playing games with how close he was. “that’s what you get for being ungrateful, zoro."
he tsked, his eyes travelling all over your face, way too fervidly for a simple pastry.
“so needy,” he mumbled, but there was a smirk in his tone. you stomach did a flip.
before he could react, and because you didn’t know what else to do, you quickly popped the rest of the saké praline in your mouth. the saké washed over your tongue, delicious, as you sent a challenging look to your crew mate.
zoro blinked, his face momentarily deadpan.
then a devilish sneer stretched across his lips.
no, no. nope. you had taken back the ascendant and you were going to keep it.
you licked your lips with a hum. "yummy, very tasty," you let out a low moaned of bliss as you tasted the praline, teasing. "you should ask sanji for th-"
rough lips on yours shut you up.
your eyes widened in shock.
it took you a full second to realize roronoa zoro was kissing you, and another one for your heart to practically jump out of your ribs.
any ounce of hesitation drowned in the intoxicating feeling in your veins – your irritation melted into a burning desire, your lips soon moving on their own to match his feverish pace.
finally, Zoro’s hand travelled to your chin, grabbing it to deepen the kiss, and you gave in, your hands tugging at the short strands of his hair as he ate you alive.
after what felt like a lifetime, when your lungs were starting to protest, you pulled away, dizzy.
when you looked back at the man in front of you, he was licking his lips with a cocky grin.
"you’re right," he said, eyes glinting with amusement at your flustered state. "very tasty. but I’m not going to congratulate that shitty cook anytime soon."
you shot him a glare, trying to conceal how much he affected you. "if you do that again, i am slashing your dick off with your own swords, asshole.”
"do what?" he asked, his smirk growing. "kiss you?"
"without asking for my permission," you clarified sternly.
"yeah, you really looked like you hated it," he countered with a smug smile, leaning back.
you rolled your eyes, but despite your best efforts, the corner of your lips threatened to stretch and reveal how much you were enjoying your banter.
"shut up," you muttered, trying to regain composure.
his grin widened, leaning in just slightly, his mask of nonchalance long forgotten as he stared at you like a starved man ready to devour a meal. "and why don’t you make me?"
your heart pounded, excitement coursing through you.
raising an eyebrow at the challenge, you slowly leaned toward him, bringing your faces just a few centimeters apart.
zoro was waiting, tense with anticipation, but you moved deliberately slow, making him suffer for the earlier disrespect.
you planted your knees right next to his waist, straddling him. in a split second, you felt the heat of his hands envelop your thighs, his fingertips brushing against your skin, eager to claim each inch of your body but staying in place. good, he understood his lesson.
dragging your arms on his shoulders, you let your fingers trail through his hair teasingly, scrutinizing his face, delighting in the raw hunger oozing off of him.
the way his hands gripped your skin told you all you needed to know about how much he was craving your touch.
but of course, this prideful man wasn’t going to admit defeat, not without playing along.
it wasn’t often that one had the chance to be so close to the green-haired pirate without having a sword held to their throat. his eyes held a dozen shades of green, but right now, they were dark with desire.
your hand cupped his cheek softly, savouring the feeling of his skin under yours, exploring the angles of his sharp face.
a warm, fuzzy feeling settled in your stomach, affection tugging at your heart. gods. you cared so much about him. no one could really put a word on whatever relationship zoro and you had, but there was undeniably something special that you both weren’t searching to name nor contain.
you tilted your head, and you swore you heard him suck in a breath before your lips brushed his in a gentle kiss, your movements slow and teasing, matching the rhythm of your caresses.
sat onto him, your whole weight pressing against his body, it was his abs that were maintaining you both upright effortlessly. yet, you had other plans in mind - soon, you pushed him gently, and before he could react, you had him lying flat on the wooden floor, hovering above him.
you teased him for a few seconds, your tongue sweeping over his, and right as you felt his control about to snap, you abruptly pulled away, standing up and smirking down at him.
"see? you know how to shut up," you grinned, walking away before he could grab you and pull you back into another kiss – one, you were sure, you wouldn’t be dominating, if his agitation and the dark storm in his glare was any clue.
zoro stayed silent for a moment, then grabbed his swords and began walking away, passing by you. he stopped just beside you and leaned down, his voice low.
tags: fluff (angst if you squint), friends to lovers, emotionally constipated kakashi, jealousy, kind of oblivious reader, no cheating, gai is a wingman
synopsis: kakashi would never intentionally do anything to derail your new relationship. it’s not his fault comparisons are easily done. how can one steal one’s girlfriend by simply existing?
or in which kakashi tries his hardest to keep burying his feelings but jealousy is harder to keep in check.
a/n: what was supposed to be a quick hc turned into a 4.5k fic that took me two months to finish. please.
masterlist
when he learnt you found a boyfriend, kakashi ignored gai’s pointed, totally not discreet, stare. the one that screamed ‘revolt against this injustice and declare the flame of your love before it is too late!’
truth was, he’d almost even felt relieved. it comforted the quiet certitude that he would not be good enough – that you, anyone, deserved better than a man haunted by his past. he could finally kill that flicker of hope that he selfishly harbored in spite of all this.
but he couldn’t, as it turned out. days bled into months, and with them, hope rotted into ache.
he even met the guy, once. at one of anko’s get-together night he only agreed to go because she mentioned you would pass by. she forgot to add he would too.
“ah, kakashi hatake, right?” the man had gripped his hand firmly with a gentle smile. “y/n talks a lot about you.”
his heart stopped. “oh.”
your boyfriend laughed, warm. “nothing bad, don’t worry.” but that was the furthest thing from his mind. “you seem to be a formidable shinobi, and an even more formidable friend. it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
his throat was dry when he answered. “likewise.”
he hated himself for the resentment he couldn’t shake off. your boyfriend was a good person. he made you laugh. made you happy.
so kakashi ignored that foolish flicker whenever he’d hear you got into a fight with your lover. it was often because of the missions, the shinobi way of life that your civilian partner could not grasp fully. sometimes over more trivial things.
but it didn’t matter.
he’d be a good friend.
“you seem distracted,” the grey-haired ninja remarked the next month during a mission, catching your hazed gaze lost in the campfire you’d just set up.
“sorry,” even your voice sounded weird, all tangled. “lot of stuff to think about.”
a shiver rippled across your shoulder. kakashi was on his feet in the blink of an eye, nonchalant as he approached you quietly.
“it wasn’t a reproach,” he softly dropped the blanket he’d bought on the road– knowing how sensitive you were to the cold – on you. “just know i’m here if you want to talk.”
your lips parted in surprise. then you swiftly grabbed the blanket and tossed half over his knees.
“i–“ you scoffed as words ran dry on your tongue.
frustration etched itself in a deep frown as you found yourself unable to begin expressing the void that haunted you.
you shook your head in defeat “i’m bad at… saying things out loud.”
he knew.
but he’d been by your side long enough to have a pretty good idea of what was going on. “your parent’s anniversary was last week.”
not a question. your head whipped around, eyes wide in shock. “how do you…?”
how couldn’t he.
he still vividly remembered the hole in his chest as he witnessed, jaw clenched, powerless, your collapse in the hokage’s office when he broke the news of your parents’ death. you’d just return from a mission with him – that was the last time he saw you so carefree and enamoured with life.
he never forgot the date – years passed yet like clockwork, your smile still dimmed and you’d grow quieter each time the month came up.
“i visited rin and obito’s graves. thought i’d stop by theirs too.” the intensity you were staring at him with made his voice falter and he swallowed. “they were good soldiers. even better people. i… left flowers.”
he didn’t have time to catch his breath when you knocked it out of him – the brute force of your body colliding against him, your arms tightening against his shoulders, your chin digging into his muscle.
“oh kakashi,” your whisper was muffled by the folds of his cloth. “thank you. thank you.”
it was ridiculous to him that you’d thank him when he knew damn well you spent years honoring his former teammates’ own grave. not because they mattered to you – you had never known them much – but because they mattered to him. he hoped his gesture made you feel as intimately cared for as you made him feel – immensely less lonely.
“it’s just so hard, sometimes,” you frowned, throat tied in knots, ”to talk about it.”
hesitant, his arm closed protectively around your body. the effort you were willing to make to confide, vulnerable and hurt, made him all the more desperate to erase the pain in your voice.
“i tried to. with him.” kakashi stiffened, though he didn’t mean to. “i was on a mission that day and i couldn’t visit, so i asked him to buy flowers for them because bringing flowers is so–“ you swallowed like you could push down the emotions rising, “but when i came back he told me he forgot. i thought– i thought they’d think i didn’t care anymore–“
a gasp for air made your chest jump and kakashi clenched his hands. he stayed silent, not trusting himself with anything he could say.
“it was stupid but i– you– they did receive some in the end. god, kakashi,” his body shuddered when you buried your face deeper in the collar of his cloak. “sometimes i feel like you’re the only one who…”
you never finished your sentence.
kakashi never commented.
but from then, terrible as it was, he felt less guilty about his treacherous thoughts on your couple. less guilty about his wishful thinking.
but still, when push came to shove, he remained silent whenever the topic of your boyfriend was brought up.
he thought it was the respectful thing to do.
but of course, one day you’d catch him being too evasive. that happened on the way to your house, after a night out with your group of friends. you had confided a bit during the conversations – how you still had doubts about the compatibility with his civilian way of life.
kakashi kept his mouth closed the entire time. but now, when it was just the two of you and the moon watching tenderly over the pair of you, you begged for his opinion with pleading eyes.
“i don’t think i’m the best person for you to ask.”
you stopped, stunned by the answer. even when he didn’t know for sure, he always had a supportive comment or a thoughtful advice to offer – one that’d always appease your mind.
“uh? why?”
he glanced at you sideways. silence stretched as he seemed to carefully pick his words.
“i’m afraid i won’t be objective.”
relief relaxed your muscles and you chuckled, shoving his shoulder playfully as you resumed walking.
“good thing i don’t want objective! i want someone on my side. someone that wants the best for me. someone i trust. like you, kashi,” you spin around to send him a wide grin, the affection of your statement reflected in your eyes.
there was a flower tucked behind your ear – one you picked on your way, gasping when catching sight of the unlucky daisy whose stalk had been snapped in half by the force of the wind.
the vision of you made his heart jump a beat.
but kakashi hesitated again as he reached your level. his hands were shoved in his pockets nonchalantly, yet a weird tension simmered underneath his aloof exterior.
“sometimes i’m not sure if i want your best,” he starts slowly, a deep frown carved between his brows as he looked up to the starry sky. “or if i’m being selfish.”
your steps faltered – so did your smile. you hated the guilt in his voice even more than the confusion in your mind. “…what do you mean?”
you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until his response knocked it out of your lungs.
“what i mean is,” he set his gaze down on you, so intense you felt your stomach twist. “i can’t give you advices about him that won’t be coloured by what i want. so i prefer not to say anything.”
none of you brought up this half-confession again the days after, but that didn’t prevent you from thinking about it non-stop.
the way it made your head spin with possibilities – what the hell did he want that made him act so distant that night? did kakashi want you? or did he simply dislike your boyfriend? or was it something else entirely?
because if you listened to that treacherous, hopeful call of your heart – if you read between the lines, kakashi had just admitted he liked you. and that thought – it invaded your mind, it set your entire soul ablaze, it derailed your pulse the way nothing had before.
not even your boyfriend.
that much became clear when you were eating dinner, in the following days, and your eye caught sight of him cuting small pieces of the last few strawberries you had – you loved strawberries. your boyfriend put them all in one cup.
you realized, you didn’t even hoped it was for you. you knew he’d eat them all alone. if you asked, of course, he’d share. but it didn’t come naturally.
you didn’t know why that had bothered you so much – but it felt like a deep weight in your chest, nibbling at your heart; a voice that whispered in the back of your mind ‘will you really just settle with being an afterthought?’
and you only realized why that moment scarred you so deeply when a particular memory of your youth floated to the surface of your consciousness.
“those rations are the worst, honestly.”
“yes, y/n, you mentioned. three hundred times already, actually.”
raidō yawned, ignoring your glare. worst thing was you knew he thought the same thing – the little protein brown paste that were supposed to feed you for the entire duration of the mission were bland at best, disgusting at worst.
“i’m going to sleep,” your teammate announced, slipping into a makeshift bed composed mainly of large leaves.
your eyes scanned the edge of the forrest. “kakashi didn’t come back from his scouting round yet. it’s getting late, don’t you think?”
“who knows what he’s up to?” the brown-haired shinobi mumbled. “he’ll be fine. you wait if you wish. wake me up if you’re too tired.”
so you waited, gaze fixated on the darkness before you, ignoring the worry nibbling on your tranquility. what if he got caught? what if he was hurt? what if–
“yo.”
you shrieked, body moving quicker than your mind as it wrapped itself around the person, pinning them to the ground in a taijutsu headlock.
“well, now you just squished them.”
you blinked the fog of the night away, taking a second too long to recognise the wild silver hair and the familiar mask.
kakashi didn’t seem too surprised to find your thighs firmly enveloping his waist and your right hand around his throat. you could even bet he was amused by your fright. his own arm was blocking your other hand – which held a kunai that threatened to plunge into his chest. his fingers burned the skin of your wrist.
“are you crazy?” you whispered, promptly freeing him from your hold. a sudden coldness made you all the more aware of the feeling of his body under yours.
your heart raced. adrenaline, probably.
kakashi sat up when you shifted out of his lap, but his eyes locked on the grass surrounding you. you followed his gaze.
“what’s…”
strawberries were pouring from his pouch, some even scattered and indeed squished on the ground. no doubt because of you.
“i saw some on my way,” one hand rose to scratch his grey hair, his detached voice concealing something.
the corners of your lips had stretched into a wide grin before you realized. you saw those bushes on the way too. they were miles away.
“oh my god, kakashi,” your eyes sparkled with untamed excitement. “i could marry you right here.”
you missed the way he froze entirely – too busy picking up his pouch, a water jutsu splashing the fruits until they were ready to melt under your tongue.
you hummed in appreciation, shoving a few berries in his hands and diverting your gaze to offer him privacy while uncovering his face.
you had no doubt this little impromptu detour was spurred by your constant complaining about the rations, but you were fumbling under the weight of gratefulness, unable to find the right words.
“you know, i love strawberries,” you finally decided to say instead, your shoulder almost brushing his. “my parents used to pack me some in all my lunch boxes at the academy.”
you met kakashi’s gentle look, and warmth spread in your chest. how lucky were you to have someone like him
“i know.”
the rumors of your break-up only reached kakashi’s ears shortly after it reached gai’s. the energetic man had sprinted to his friend – challenging him to a duel.
“and if i remember well, my dear rival, it is my turn to pick!”
there was something too sparkly about his grin that kakashi noticed too late, once they were already stepping inside the yamanako flower shop.
“what are we doing here, gai?”
“i challenge you to a flower arrangement duel!”
“…no.”
gai gripped his friend by the collar before he could walk out. “kakashi! you must compete against me! if you do, i will offer you a secret piece of information of great value to you.
the grey-haired couldn’t believe such childish bargaining had worked on him but his curiosity was piqued.
ten minutes after, he was holding a small, simple bouquet to inoichi’s face. the shop owner was already busy examining gai’s composition with raised brows – colours clashing, wild leaves fighting off delicate petals, thorns threatening to rip the wrapping paper.
“well, that’s… interesting. honestly i’d–“
gai gripped the man, whispering something in his ear. inoichi’s gaze snapped to kakashi and he nodded.
“i’d say i can not compare two beautiful works,” he coughed a bit, avoiding kakashi’s doubtful look. “as a florist and a friend, i can not decide between you two.”
“oh no! how will we set the winner!” gai gasped dramatically. “we must–“
“you do know i just saw you say something to change inoichi’s mind?”
“–find someone else. oh my, is that y/n i see? let’s ask her!”
once again, the grey-haired ninja found himself dragged in the street by gai, but this time his senses were more alert, eyes scanning around him to spot you.
“oh i forgot to tell you the information, kakashi. y/n is single again!” not giving him the time to process his words, gai used all his strength to shove his friend in your direction.
except, gai was objectively very strong. his friend’s body came crashing on his target, sending the both of them on the ground. the copy ninja barely caught himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you with his weight. his nose brushed against yours.
you blinked.
“kakashi?”
a storm of thoughts swarmed his mind, yet one tamed the others.
you looked absolutely beautiful.
also, this position was widely inappropriate.
and you broke up with your boyfriend.
shooting an apology, he wasted no time grabbing gently your hand and effortlessly hoisting you up.
“what are those flowers for?” you smiled once you were back on your feet, and he suddenly remembered what brought him here and what his other hand was still gripping tightly.
“uh, it’s not– gai–“ he turned around to seek help but his friend was nowhere to be seen. only the chatter of the small shops nearby gave signs of life. the street where the two of you were standing was, in fact, desert.
of course.
the scheme he had been roped into was starting to make sense now.
“oh, those are my favourites!” you suddenly exclaimed, fingers brushing said flowers. “i haven’t seen them in forever.”
and kakashi stood there, dumbfounded, as he realized he already knew that. and that was probably why he even, unconsciously, gravitated towards those ones in the first place. because every fiber of his being seemed unable not to be wired to think of you. you, you, you, always you.
clearing his throat, the man ignored the fumbling sensation invading his body – focusing instead on the softness of your smile, the shine of your gaze as it rose from the bouquet to him.
“you should take them.”
your eyes widened in surprise, but you were quick to deflect with a sheepish laugh. “oh, no– i mean, if they’re meant for someone–“
“ah, forgive me,” kakashi couldn’t help the smile under his mask, a surge of affection soothing his nerves. “i should have made myself clearer. they are meant for you, y/n. please accept them.”
shit. the pout on your lips as your suppressed a grin made his heart clench.
after long seconds where the man stared down at you expectantly – wondering why the hell you would refrain from smiling – you began to squirm under his attention.
“why are you giving me flowers, hatake?” the teasing tone of your question failed to mask your suspicion. or frustration. whatever the reason why you hadn’t grabbed the bouquet yet.
he could feel the curious glances of some civilians passing by, but focused all this attention on deciphering what the look you had right now meant.
“well,” he started, and – because gai’s voice, y/n is single, was still ringing in his ear like a prayer – he couldn’t prevent the jealousy curiosity that, unprudently, pushed the words out of his mouth. “i’ve heard about your… separation.”
he had to pause to make sure he wouldn’t sound too satisfied.
“flowers always cheered you up. i hope they can celebrate a new beginning.” kakashi hoped he didn’t sound too cheeky.
maybe he did. your face slowly fell, the smile vanishing from your lips. his heart dropped, realizing immediately he chose his answer wrong.
“so… pity flowers,” bitterness coated your voice, and you raised your brows in a challenging manner.
his eyes widened. “no. it’s not–“
“kakashi,” you interrupted and his lips sealed shut immediately. “do you know who is the last person to gift me flowers?”
his mind jumped to the time your hands brushed his as you accepted his congratulatory bouquet – three months ago, when you passed the exam to become a sensei. you’d train genins starting next graduation.
but then, the face of your boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – replaced the memory, and, sour, kakashi chose to remain silent rather than even voice his name out loud.
his arm dropped, the flowers lowering until they hung upside down in his grasp, brushing against his leg.
your frown deepened when you broke the silence. “it’s you, kakashi.”
the world stopped spinning.
“and the time before that it’s also you. and probably a dozens of time before, too. and– fuck, this is exactly what happened!”
your voice shook as it rose, anger boiling with every exasperated thought that spilled from your lips.
“at some point, i realized i kept comparing you two– like a horrible, horrible girlfriend, because it’s just impossible not to notice everything he doesn’t know or doesn’t do when you exist!”
a heavy drop of water crashed on your forehead, and it seemed to shake you out of your monologue. you sighed, running a hand in your hair. rain began falling timidly, making the few passerby’s flee im search of a shelter.
“…sorry.”
you laughed, one that sounded all too much like disbelief. “out of all the things, you apologize for that? i’m not mad at you– i mean, i am, but not for that. i hate that you’re never honest with me about what it means to you when you do all these things. even today with those stupid flowers– sorry, no, they’re not stupid. you’re stupid. fuck. god, it took me years to–“
you cut yourself off with a silent gasp, like you were about to reveal a secret, one kakashi really felt like he’d want to hear.
“to what?” he took a step towards you, ignoring the way the rain grew heavier, soaking his clothes and the paper wrap around his bouquet.
you fled his gaze, your scowl wavering but still holding strong.
“kakashi.” your eyes blinked furiously to chase off raindrops. “do you love me?”
the man always believed hell would break loose if you ever found out what selfish feelings he harboured. but if it did seem like the skies were pouring out, flooding konoha, wind whipping vehemently against the walls and streets roaring with the clash of rain against pavements – kakashi never felt calmer.
he watched tenderly as your eyes found his, travelling along the sharp lines of his face, the wet strands of his hair dripping with water.
“yes.” the word came out like it was the easiest thing to say.
you swallowed. rain slid over your face. a beat passed. “since when?”
“i’m not sure,” he admitted slowly, carefully scrutinizing any of your reactions – any tick of your muscle. “a long time.”
your brows knitted together and you closed your eyes for a second, like the confession physically pained you.
“why didn’t you tell me?” you pleaded, and your voice wavered under the weight of emotion – guilt, regret, anger, kakashi couldn’t quite tell.
his heart clenched at the sight. gently, he grabbed your wrist and guided you to walk backwards, the ledge of a shop shielding you poorly from the rain.
your back softly hit the door. kakashi was so close, the bouquet he held with one hand brushed against your leg – his other hand slowly let go of your wrist. the heat of your skin touching his had made your pulse jump. but it was nothing compared to the intensity with which your longstanding friend was looking down on you, keys to a box of pandore hanging from his lips.
“shame. or cowardice.” his voice was steady, firm but not harsh, confident but humble – like he always was.
the hurt and confusion in your eyes called for his most serious, sincere words and that was exactly what he wanted to offer.
“it was never out of a lack of love, y/n. the pain, grief, and regret i have known convinced me good things never last long,” his eyes held your gaze gently. “i could not bring myself be so selfish as to risk losing or hurting you. you deserve more than a man like me.”
he avoided your gaze for a fleeting second, his face harsher. “but i can see that my actions still hurt you. forgive me.”
the kakashi you knew was a man of few words – a guarded man, who kept his deepest thoughts and feelings quietly locked inside. you peeked a few times, held your hands over the leeks to help him contain the grief that would sip through the cracks.
but this – his most open, vulnerable, truthful confession – you never dreamed of witnessing.
you feared you would never be the same again.
“sometimes, i don’t know if i want your best, or if i’m being selfish,” you finally mumbled after a long silence, eyes glossy.
kakashi seemed puzzled for a second, even more so when you pointed an accusatory finger at him.
“that’s what you told me, last time,” you continued, a deep frown between your brows. “i spent days trying to figure out how the most selfless person i knew could think that of themselves.”
his eye widened slightly.
“now i know,” your frown relaxed, brows quivering upwards instead, painting a saddened expression on your face. “i’m sorry i never realized what was going on in that head of yours.”
you took a step forward, your head tilting back to keep staring straight into his pupil. it was blown out, tracking your every move more closely than what his calm exterior let out.
you inhaled sharply, ignoring the frenetic beat of your heart. the rain seemed to slow around you, as if to also catch your next words.
“and i’m sorry it took me so long to recognize what i feel,” you said, and kakashi heard the guilt as much as he read it on your face. he gripped your fingers tighter, like he could erase it.
but then you moved even closer and he physically felt his body freeze – and time.
soft lips gently pressed against his – the material of the mask thin, yet it suddenly felt like a wall to kakashi.
the flowers slipped out of his hand, landing on the ground with a quiet thud.
it lasted a second.
one second for a kiss he spent a lifetime desiring and punishing himself for it.
“i love you,” you murmured, throat tight with emotion, eyes sparkling. “stupidly so. and i want you to be selfish. if accepting my love, and being with me seems selfish to you – i want you to be the most selfish man on earth.“
there was a moment of floating, where the pair of you just stood there, on the edge of the city who saw you grow and fall as one. the skies still poured its heart content around you, some raindrops finding their ways to you through the cracks of your shelter.
then a flash of skin – his two fingers hooked on the fabric of his mask and tore it down – and in a split second, his lips came crashing onto yours, palm shooting up to cradle the side of your face.
you wasted no time enveloping his face with your hands, kissing kakashi with all the sheer force of the love you stopped denying.
not caring that his hair was still dripping wet, you let your fingers tug run through his hair, swallowing his soft groans like a drunken sailor who’d not seen a drop of water for months.
“y/n,” kakashi whispered as you pulled away to catch your breath. “are you sur–“
your lips caught his again and the question died on his tongue as quickly as it was answered. his hand travelled to your waist, gripping it like he would fall otherwise – and you could have melted right here, right now, if he were not holding onto you so tight as he kissed so desperately.
none of you could tell how much time passed before you finally stepped away from each others. once your minds were clear enough to perceive anything other than the person standing before you, you realized the rain had weakened into a light drizzle, melodious songs from birds announcing the return of the sun before it peeked through the fleeting clouds.
kakashi could not tear his eyes from your face – maybe out of adoration, maybe out of fear to still read any sign that everything that happened was dream. only when you bent to pick up the forgotten flowers splattered on the ground did he seem to break from his daze
“c’mon. let’s go,” you grinned, the wet, dirty, squished, yet still radiant bouquet in your arms.
₊˚⊹♡ what do you do when your pro-hero husband comes back home reeking of another woman's perfume?! katsuki x fem!reader
if there's one think katsuki will always be, it's a homebody. as much as he absolutely loathes traveling, it's necessary as a pro-hero, and he's learned how to push through those difficult days without you physically present, whether it be facetime calls, text messages... or even keeping a small bottle of your go-to perfume on him for whenever he misses your scent.
after finally being given the green light that his mission was done, katsuki goes through the same dance he's done time and time again now—call you and let you know he's safe, get off his flight and onto the first uber available, and spray the travel size version of your perfume on his wrist, one which he keeps on his person almost all the time, before taking a power nap on the drive back home to you.
katsuki was too exhausted to notice the different scent of the perfume, one much stronger than your own, because he was out like a light after a few minutes. later, he'll realize he'd been sent the wrong version after checking his order history, but right now? he has absolutely no idea.
despite katsuki telling you earlier not to wait up for him since he'd be home late, you couldn't fall asleep—just how could you? you'd be seeing him in person for the first time after nearly two whole weeks apart! rolling over in bed, you grab your phone and check his location, following the little red dot that was driving closer and closer to your area of japan.
you're practically vibrating with excitement, and when you hear the familiar sound of the front door being unlocked, you throw you blanket off and stuff your feet into your slippers, practically skipping towards the front door downstairs as your dear husband stands there in all his glory
he's still in a suit—probably because he headed straight to the airport after his final meeting, and he looks exhausted beyond belief with his suitcase dragging behind him, but there's this little spark in katsuki's eyes that appears and shines when he sees you come down the stairs for him—and he audibly groans in relief
"fuck, that was hell. i can't believe i'm home." he grumbles, kicking the door shut behind him before you're moving forward on fast feet to embrace him. katsuki catches your hug with a grunt, wrapping his arms around you as the tension in his shoulders disappears and the crease between his brows softens
he's pressing kisses onto your hairline, gently cradling your head against him before being cut off when you raise your head from his chest with an odd expression
"what?" he frowns, not sensing what was wrong as you suddenly grab the edge of his suit and sniff
"the fuck..." he grumbles, watching you with narrowed eyes before you reel back from him with a mortified gasp
he smells sweet. sickeningly so. whatever scent is on him is so potent and feminine that you're struggling to accept the fact that he smells like this
"katsuki, why do you smell like that?" you ask in a taut voice, stepping back nervously as he stares at you blankly
"like what?"
"like another woman!"
his face scrunches up immediately in disgust and disbelief, lips parting as he shakes his head incredulously
"what?! no the fuck i don't!"
"yes you do!" you accuse, and he raises his arm to sniff the edge of his sleeve himself before paling as a brief flash of panic crosses over his face
"w-well, i don't know! i must've... ordered the wrong perfume or...something." he mumbles, a flush crawling up the side of his neck
your brows knit together in confusion. you know katsuki wouldn't ever cheat on you, but you'd certainly like to know why he smells like this
"what do you mean 'the wrong perfume'? how do you accidentally buy a women's perfume instead of your normal cologne?" you press, leaning closer to try and observe him, almost like you're searching for other signs of infidelity, and katsuki's genuinely offended as he sputters stupidly for a response
he digs his hand into his suit's jacket, pulling out the tiny perfume bottle that is indeed not your usual scent upon proper inspection, and he grumbles before moving aside to toss it
you watch him suspiciously, and he drags a hand over his face as if this was the most embarrassing moment of his life, mumbling a string of unintelligible words underneath his breath before you glare at him
"i said that i buy your perfume sometimes just to...smell it. and those fuckers sent me the wrong one this time around." he snaps furiously, gaze sliding towards you almost nervously afterwards as he watches you slowly process his words. but then he's groaning, because your eyes widen a fraction before a grin overcomes your face
"oh? realllyyyy?" you question, and his eyes snap towards yours before he's shaking his head and dragging you back towards the bedroom, grumbling angrily underneath his breath all while he strips himself of his suit, showers, and changes into his pajamas
he doesn't stop his incessant, angry mumbling until his arms are wound around tight your form and that familiar scent that is entirely and undeniably yours invades his senses. he relaxes, practically sinking into the bed, and you decide you'll tease him for this in the morning when he has the energy to bark back—for now, you press one last kiss into his freshly combed through hair and hold katsuki nice and close
ughhh it’s been a week and im still stuck on the ending of a small kakashi fic ive been cooking up can the gods of literature please come back to my humble imagination
ok guys only the final scene left. a few hundreds words.
im announcing it so that i feel pressured enough to actually force me to finish this soon (though i am taking a 4 days weekend trip tomorrow. national day and everything). but still. i need to be pressured.
i will soon post that fuck ass kakashi one-shot i’ve been dwelling on for the past month. c’mon.
bakugo x reader with curly hair?? like for example him helping reader with her curly hair routine, also i love ur writing🤍
curls // 𝓚. 𝓑akugo
cw: fluff, fluff and more fluff, hair touching, gentle physical affection, self indulgent, curlyhead!fem!reader, established relationship
synopsis: katsuki learns the art of helping his curly haired s/o with her hair, you. discovering just how soft, patient, and attentive he can be when it comes to you.
a/n 💬: ahh thank you for loving my writing, i love your idea ^^ !!!
katsuki didn’t get hair, not not really.
he just woke up, ran a hand through it, and it just… stayed like that. stiff and obedient, explosive in its own way. yours, though? yours was a whole different story.
he learned that the first time he stayed over with you.
you were sitting on the floor, surrounded by products and things. scrunchies, detangling combs, jars, bottles, spray mists— some half open, some upside down. your curls were still damp, coiled and frizzy in different places.
he watched silently for a moment.
“…why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you mumble without turning around.
“why do you have a damn science lab on the floor,” he says flatly.
you sigh. “shut up katsuki, don’t start.”
he sits up anyway, rubbing his eyes. “what’re you doin’?”
“wash day,” you answer, already tired. “it takes forever.”
he grunts. “your hair’s clean though.”
“katsuki,” you warn, your brows furrowed.
he pauses. “…it’s not?”
you turn to look at him, curls bouncing, expression somewhere between amused and offended. “it’s clean. i’m styling it.”
he stares. then, “why.”
you blink. “because if i don’t, it’ll be dry, and tangled, and sad.”
“…hair can be sad?”
“yes.”
he huffs, clearly unconvinced, but he watches as you section your hair, fingers careful. you wince a little when a curl snags.
then he moves. “oi,” he says, already scooting closer. “you’re doin’ that wrong.”
you pause, “oh? and since when are you a curly hair expert?”
“since today,” he mutters. “give it here.”
“kats—”
“give. it. here.” he holds his hand out, palm up, waiting. after a second, you hand him the wide tooth comb, suspicious.
“if you rip my hair out, i will cry and i will kill you.”
“i’m not an idiot,” he snaps, but his grip is… careful, surprisingly so. he starts at the ends like you always do, slow and deliberate, brows furrowed.
“…why’s it gotta start at the bottom again?” he asks.
“to avoid breakage.”
he clicks his tongue, “ah, makes sense.”
you watch him from the corner of your eye, his touch is gentle and steady. he’s concentrating so hard it almost hurts to look at him.
“so,” he says after a moment, “this stuff goes next?”he picks up a curl cream jar, squinting at the label.
“yeah. not too much, though.”
“i know that,” he lies and scoops some out anyway, and rubs it between his palms like he’s warming up before a fight. then gently scrunches your curls, awkward at first, then more confident.
your hair starts to spring back into shape under his hands. “…hey,” you say softly.
“what.”
“you’re actually really good at this.”
he grins, “yeah, i know.” then he keeps going, carefully separating curls with his fingers, asking questions, attempting to stay nonchalant. “this one’s supposed to look like that?”
“yeah.”
“…it’s kinda cool.”
you smile softly at his rare compliment. “aw shucks, katsss.”
by the time he’s done, your curls are defined and soft, framing your face perfectly. katsuki steps back to look at his work, arms crossed. “…damn,” he mutters. “i did that.”
you stand, stretching, then turn to him. “you did.”
he looks away, scoffing. “tch. obviously.”
you lean in and kiss his cheek, quick and sweet. “thank you, baby.”
his ears go red immediately. “it’s not that deep, it’s nothin’ much—“
you grin. “shh, you needa do it more often.”
he rolls his eyes, then looks into your face with a smug expression. “…you trust me with your hair,” he asks quietly.
“yeah,” you answer just as softly. “i do.”
“mmm,” he hums. “then i’ll keep helpin’ i guess.”
you then hug him tightly and bury your face in his chest, curls brushing his jaw. “yay!”
three weeks wasn’t that long—not really at least. people went far longer than that without talking to someone all the time, that’s just how relationships go. friendships fizzle, people break up, messages get left on read until they don’t really matter anymore. it was fine, it was normal. but for some reason it’d felt like something had been ripped straight out of your chest and never properly put back.
it was your decision and everything; you said it with your chest, with that prideful stubbornness that always seemed to flare when you argued with katsuki. we need space. this isn’t working. maybe we’re just not meant for each other. and god did it feel good too. at last, a heavy weight had lifted from your shoulders; you were finally rid of him, and happy to be so. his constant explosions and pointless screaming matches had begun to bore you anyways.
well, he wasn’t all bad, you guessed. he had a sort of soft spot for you nobody else ever got to see. while he might seem like just some bad-tempered asshole on the outside, deep down he was actually kind of a sweet guy. he’d always cook you dinner, drive you anywhere you asked like a personal chauffeur, check in on you after hard missions and comfort you when you needed in his own, weird ways. he had the best laugh too—on the rare occasions he actually did laugh, let alone smile. oh, and he always smelled the greatest. a burnt caramel type of thing. you kind of missed it, honestly—or you just missed him.
shit. maybe breaking up was a mistake. but…he was really annoying and particular about all his things, like in the kitchen—
“okay, no, absolutely not—you are not making that face tonight.” you blinked, dragged back into the present by mina, who was currently standing in the doorway of your bathroom with her hands on her hips and the kind of expression that solidified you weren’t getting out of this.
“i’m not making a face,” you muttered, even though you definitely were.
mina narrowed her eyes, then grabbed your chin and tilted your head toward the mirror like she was presenting evidence in a trial. “look—that right there. that’s your ‘i’m thinking about my emotionally constipated ex-boyfriend instead of living my life’ face.”
you swatted her hand away, “he’s not—”
“see! you didn’t even try to deny that you were thinking about him.”
you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. “can we not do this tonight?”
“that is exactly why we are doing this tonight,” she shot back immediately, already moving to your closet like she owned the place. “you’ve been moping for three weeks. three. whole. weeks. you need to have some fun for once! and at least one guy who makes you forget the name bakugou.” mina exaggerated ‘bakugou’ with a mocking sort voice as she shuffled through your entire closet, flinging random going-out tops and your tiniest mini skirts at your feet like confetti.
“i’m not forgetting the name bakugou.”
“okay then we’ll aim for you not just not care instead.” she snatched a pair heels from the floor and paced back to you, plopping them on the pile of clothes with a smirk. “sooo, you want help picking out an outfit or what?”
★ ★ ★
the club was overwhelming but a good distraction nonetheless—loud enough to drown out your thoughts, bright enough to make you forget everything you didn’t want to feel anymore. the bass thrummed through the floor and up your legs, settling somewhere in your chest like a second heartbeat after a while.
the outfit you’d decided on—or rather mina did—wasn’t anything special, though it was the most you’d actually dressed up in a hot minute. a tiny, black mini skirt, a pink-ish top, and over the top heels that made it way more uncomfortable to dance. mina helped you with the hair and makeup too, in hopes of making you feel genuinely pretty again.
you didn’t want to admit it after all that stubbornness earlier, but this was actually the most fun you’d had in a while. mina had a way of doing that.
she didn’t give you a second to hesitate the moment upon entering the club. she dragged you straight onto the bustling dance floor whether you liked it or not, laughing and spinning around like she was completely at home in the chaos. you let yourself get pulled along, let yourself move and exist in the moment for once instead of some distant space that was three weeks ago.
and for some fragile, fleeting moment—it worked. you laughed when mina said something ridiculous in your ear, accepted a drink from someone whose name you didn’t catch and didn’t care to remember. it was nice to just not care for a little while, no matter how short that while may have been.
it was fun—at least, it had been—until your eyes landed on the one person you were desperate to escape, if only for a night.
katsuki bakugou stood in the very corner of the club, sulking, with his hands glued to his pockets and that oh so familiar grimace settled upon his face. he was half-lit by the flickering neon lights surrounding him, the shadows clinging to every line of his expression. “fun” seemed like a foreign concept to him; he wasn’t doing anything—wasn’t talking, wasn’t moving, wasn’t even pretending to be interested in the people around him.
he was just…watching. watching you.
your stomach dropped so quickly it almost made you nauseous. his hair was as messy as ever, posture rigid and stiff like he was permanently stuck in a state of anger. he looked just the same as he had three weeks ago. well of course he did—it was only three weeks. it felt like far longer. you let your mind wander, and for just a second, you wondered if maybe he was looking for you.
you quickly tore your gaze away at the thought, spinning to grab mina’s arm with a little too much urgency. “mina, he’s here.”
she stilled instantly. “define he.”
you didn’t elaborate—the silence told her everything she needed to know. mina risked a glance over your shoulder, then whipped back around so fast it was almost comical. “oh, that’s him alright. god, does he always have to look like he wants to fight somebody?” she moaned, her hands resting on her hips like a disappointed mother.
“great,” you muttered. “this is exactly what i needed tonight.”
“okay, don’t panic,” she said, already slipping into problem-solving mode. “we’ll ignore him. like completely ignore him. we’ll have more fun than he is out of pure spite, and if he gets close, i will personally throw a drink in his face.”
you huff out a weak laugh, “you’d enjoy that too much.”
“oh, absolutely,” mina giggles, already grabbing your hands and twirling you to the music.
★ ★ ★
ignoring him proved to be much easier in theory. you could just feel his presence, the burn of his sharp gaze without needing to turn and face it head on. no matter how hard you tried to disregard it and drown him out with overly loud music and blinding lights, you knew exactly where he was—like some invisible string that refused to sever.
he had carved himself so deeply into your bones that forgetting him was never an option.
inevitably, things just just got worse.
some guy approached, fairly good looking, clearly inebriated. he seemed harmless, though—confident, persistent, a little too eager but not immediately off-putting. mina had already been whisked away by some other charming gentleman, but he was a distraction she’d probably approve of anyway. you let the conversation happen, half-listening, half-watching the crowd over his shoulder like you were waiting for something you didn’t want to admit you were waiting for.
but the longer it went on the more something began to feel off. he stood too close, too comfortable, talking like he’d already decided you were interested regardless of what you actually had to say. his hand brushed your arm once, then again, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle.
“c’mon, just let me buy you a drink, sweetheart,” he purred, words slurring as he reached a hand to grab you by the arm.
“i’m good, really,” you said, trying to step back without causing a scene. “i’m just here with my friend.”
“aw, you can spare me a little more attention, can’t you?” he replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“i already did,” you said, sharper, “and now i’m done.” you attempted to snatch away your wrist from his grasp, but his grip was already too tight to do so without hurting yourself.
your words clearly meant nothing to him, and he laughed. genuinely laughed like something was funny about this. “oh, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
your chest tightens. every attempt to leave only seems to further egg on his advances, leaving you completely stuck with this creep in the tiny corner of the club. until suddenly, you’re thrown a life line. a hand on your shoulder, a sparking pressure that’s unmistakably familiar. the hand tugs you away from the creep as he releases his crushing grip on your wrist, stepping just slightly ahead of you like a barrier. katsuki.
“she’s not interested,” he spoke in that low, edged voice you could hardly ever forget. “so back the hell off.” bakugou stepped back into your space like he’d always belonged there, his grip on your shoulder firm but not painful. his gaze was locked dead on the man in front of him, sharp and intimidating enough to make the guy finally back off a bit.
he scoffed, straightening like he had something to prove. “and you are?”
silence stretched for a moment too long to be a coincidence. katsuki’s jaw tightened, some unreadable expression flickering across his face. “…doesn’t matter,” he muttered finally, voice rougher now, less controlled. “you’re done here.”
something about his tone must’ve finally landed, because after no more than a brief moment of hesitation, the guy left, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.
it was over just like that—except it wasn’t. bakugou’s hand had yet to leave your shoulder, and if anything, his grip had probably tightened. without a word, his hand slid from your shoulder to your wrist, dragging you to a more closed off area of the club. you were too stunned to speak and sort of just accepted it.
the two of you reached the wall in no time, but bakugou never loosened his grasp. instead, he now slowly turned to face you for the first time in god knows how long. his gaze instantly locked on your own like a magnet. something painfully familiar swirled in those fiery eyes, a flickering spark of reverence that never truly left, only faded.
what came underneath that spark, though, was harder to name. a cross of regret, maybe frustration—a dangerous in-between.
“you seriously gonna let random creeps get that close to you now?” he muttered, like that was the most important thing here.
your brows furrowed immediately, yanking your wrist free. “excuse me?”
“you heard me, y/n.” his gaze almost imperceptibly flicked between your eyes and lips as he continued, “didn’t look like you had that handled.”
“i did have it handled,” you shot back, heat rising fast and familiar. “and i don’t remember asking for your help.”
“sure as hell looked like you needed it.”
“oh my god,” you snapped, incredulous. “you don’t get to just show up out of nowhere and start acting like you still have a say in what i do.”
“yeah? and you don’t get to pretend i have to just stand there and watch that happen,” katsuki pressed in a rough growl, inching closer.
“watch what happen?” you demanded. “me talking to someone? me existing without you? that was the whole point of breaking up, remember?” your voice rose uncontrollably, frustrations built over long weeks finally bubbling over.
his expression shifted just slightly. silence filled the air for a long moment.
“tch—this place is shit,” he complained, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the motion.
“then leave,” you shot back instantly.
“not without—” he cut himself off mid sentence, like he’d already said too much.
your heart stuttered despite yourself. “without what, katsuki?” you pressed, softer now but no less intense. he didn’t respond right away. his eyes dropped just briefly before flicking back up to yours, something conflicted and unsteady buried under all that sharpness.
“this is a mistake,” you say, but it comes out weaker than you intended. your breath catches, and suddenly you’re too aware of how close he is again—how little space there is between you, how familiar it feels, how much you missed it.
“then tell me to leave.” he whispers, hand dangerously close to your own. you don’t—you don’t know if you ever could.
he huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah. thought so.”
a rough, calloused hand slides around your waist and guides you into him. before you had a chance to argue or overthink it, his lips were on yours, pressing into you with an urgency you’d never quite felt from him before. it’s not gentle—every movement is guided by a pent up frustration he doesn’t know how to handle for any longer.
his other hand finds your jaw, thumb brushing against your skin as he tilts your head to his liking. it’s messy and disorganised in the same way the two of you always seemed to be when together. you flinch just slightly as a small spark bursts at the skin of your waist where he holds you with relentless grip, but you don’t pull away. your fingers tangle into the front of his t-shirt like you might lose balance completely if you don’t hold on to something.
he exhales against your mouth, low and frustrated, like he’s annoyed at how much he missed this—or rather how much he missed you.
he steps forwards and your back hits the wall, not hard, but enough to make you gasp, and he takes advantage of it immediately, deepening the kiss as though trying to make up for lost time, for every moment he didn’t reach out when he should have. his hands grip at every inch of you with such desperation its hard to ignore.
you moan quietly against his teeth as his tongue pushes through your mouth, smoothing over every curve as though to memorize the shape. a familiar heat pools in your stomach and makes you almost nauseous with utter guilt. everything about it feels confusing, overwhelming. it shouldn’t be this way. there was a reason you left, a reason you’d kept distance for as long as fate allowed. you could never quite pinpoint what exactly it was that made staying away so impossible.
your hand slides up to the back of his neck without thinking, fingers pulling and tangling in his hair, the low sound he makes sending a sharp pulse of heat through your entire body. everything around you seems to disappear. only you—only him.
he pulls back just barely, breath uneven, forehead almost knocking against yours. his grip hasn’t loosened. he holds you like the world will collapse the moment he lets go. “...you always do this.” he mutters, voice low.
your brows knit together, still trying to catch your breath. “do what?”
“get in my head,” he says, like an accusation, like it's your fault. “even when you’re not there.”
your chest tightens. “that’s not fair.” you whisper.
“nothing about this is fair.”
he doesn’t even allow you to sit in the silence for more than a second before catching your lips in another heated kiss. still just as impassioned as before, this time seems just slightly heavier, slower, more controlled. he kisses against you like he’s trying to prove something he can’t quite put into words.
your fingers curl tighter into his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s no space left to close. it's out of instinct at this point, muscle memory, the kind of thing your body remembers even when your mind is screaming at you to stop.
you missed this. god, you missed him.
you missed the way he feels, so solid and real under your hands. how he breathes against you like he’s just as affected, just as thrown off, just as gone as you are. how his anger always melts into something quieter when it’s just the two of you, even if he could never admit that.
what he held for you ran deeper than words, deeper than anything that could be softened by silence or sharpened by anger. it went beyond skin and bone, something instinctive and inevitable. because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times you recognized that whatever existed between you was bound to burn—you never stopped it.
your lips part, and the kiss deepens yet again—less frantic now, more desperate. a fire that aches instead of burns. neither of you wants to rush it, because rushing means it ends faster. and neither of you were ready for that.
his hand slides from your jaw to the side of your neck, thumb pressing lightly and kneading the skin beneath his fingertip. you feel as he gently presses into you, hips slotting together like they were destined to be that way. he groans ever so softly into your mouth, fingers now threading through your messied hair.
you tilt your head, letting him and yourself fall into it just a little more, even though you know exactly where this leads. it always leads somewhere you can’t stay. a quiet, shaky breath leaves you when he finally pulls back again—this time not as far, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.
“...i hated it.” he says.
you swallow hard. “hated what?”
“not talking to you.”
the whispered confession takes you aback. he sounds…genuine, for once. like he really means it this time. “…then why didn’t you?” you ask, barely louder than a breath and shaky despite all effort. he steps away just slightly, both hands sliding to grip your hips now instead.
his expression tightens, frustration flickering back in like a reflex. “you were the one who said we were done. not me—you.”
you push him off of you, slowly and gently, like you’re trying to ease the blow before everything goes shit—again. his hands now still awkwardly at his sides, eyebrows furrowed and gaze impossibly sharp.
“you agreed.”
“yeah, because you sounded so damn sure!” he snaps.
“i wasn’t!” the admission slips out before you can stop yourself. tears burn in the back of your eyes but you don’t pay any mind to them. “i just—i didn’t know how else to fix it, katsuki. we kept fighting, and you wouldn’t talk, and i felt like i was the only one trying to hold everything together—”
“i was trying,” he cuts in, voice brimming with frustration. “just not in the way you wanted me to.”
you scoff, instantly firing back, “are you kidding me? that’s the problem! you don’t say anything! you just expect me to understand!”
“then why do you expect me to say things i don’t know how to say?”
you open your mouth to speak but find that nothing will come out. the silence that settles over you is achingly recognizable, heavy with guilt and regret. you stare into katsuki’s face, searching his expression for something you don’t know how to name just yet. maybe you’re not looking for anything in particular at all. just some cheap reason to hold on to things already falling apart.
“do you see?” you murmur, more tired than angry now. “this is exactly what i was talking about.”
his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer. of course he doesn’t. you were a fool for expecting change from a man so deeply guarded, even the things he loved never quite made it through.
he looks almost scared as you stare through his fiery gaze. what of—now that you couldn’t quite understand.
he reached a hand towards yours but you moved away before he could capture it.
“don’t pull away from me like that.”
you let out a weak, humorless breath. “katsuki… that’s kind of the whole point.”
his expression hardens, something defensive snapping back into place. “so what, that’s it? we just pretend this didn’t happen?”
“well what do you want me to say?” you ask, voice cracking despite your effort to keep it steady. “that this fixes everything? that one kiss suddenly makes us work?”
“it’s not just a kiss you know that, y/n.”
“yeah,” you reply weakly, “that’s what makes this worse.”
“...so what now?” he inquires, like he’s expecting something to suddenly change your mind before he loses you forever.
“we stop doing this. we’re done for good, bakugou,” you say slowly, almost forcing the words out. he looks to you with a defeated expression you’ve never quite seen before. something raw and genuine.
“no—we can fix this. you can’t just give up on me like that, we can—”
“we tried. what don’t you get? we don’t work together! stop making this harder than it should be!”
“that’s bullshit!”
“yeah well maybe it is,” you admit. “but you know damn well that it’s still true.”
you step back, and this time, he doesn’t try to stop you. his hand twitches at his side like he’s about to reach for you again but refuses.
“…so you’re just gonna walk away?” he asks, voice rough.
your chest tightens painfully. you knew this was coming from the moment he grabbed your arm, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “i guess so.”
you don’t wait for anything else. not for him to move or say your name the way he used to when it still meant something softer. you turn before your resolve can crack, before your body remembers the weight of his hands too clearly and betrays you for it.
the neon lights and pounding music now just make you nauseous, the air beside you seems colder. somehow, you can still feel it—him, still standing there, still watching, still choosing not to follow. you think that’s what hurts the most. not that he can’t stop you, but that he doesn’t.
people move around you in careless waves, laughing and dancing, living in a moment that now feels cold and distant. you try to match it, to breathe through it and keep your expression from folding in on itself—but your chest is too tight, your throat burning with everything you didn’t say.
you spot mina through the blur of lights and bodies, and the second she sees your face, something in her face drops. you don’t make it all the way to her before it breaks—quiet at first, barely noticeable, just a hitch in your breath that turns into something harder to contain. when you do reach her, it spills over without permission, messy and ungraceful. a hurt that refuses to stay hidden no matter how badly you want it to. she pulls you into her arms immediately, and you let yourself fold into it, be vulnerable, if just for a moment.
by the time you step outside, the night breeze hits your skin far colder than you were prepared for. the fresh air doesn’t fix anything or untangle the mess he left behind in your chest as you half expected it to. but it’s quieter out here, a little easier to breathe.
behind you, the music keeps going, the night carries on, and he’s still in there—standing where you left him, clinging to something you had to walk away from to survive. and even as it settles in, there’s a part of you that knows the truth you tried so hard to ignore.
some things don’t end cleanly. some things just burn until there’s nothing left to hold onto but the memory of how it felt before it fell apart.
and katsuki bakugou—he was always bound to burn.
HELLOOOOO ts flopped so bad on tiktok guys what the fart but lmk what you think i actually think i like this one
ughhh it’s been a week and im still stuck on the ending of a small kakashi fic ive been cooking up can the gods of literature please come back to my humble imagination
── ✶ before you read: 1.4k words ; gn reader ; established relationship ; very corny cuddling shenanigans ; masterlist.
꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ i saw a tik tok of a couple's ring camera footage catching a moment like this in the middle of the night (i cannot find it anymore) but it felt rly katsuki coded so here we are
It’s three in the morning, and you’re hot and sweaty, and Katsuki is as heavy as ever. He doesn’t snore any quieter either.
He shuffles closer, half-asleep, as he throws a leg over you, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you like a trap, solid and impossible to pry loose, and then he shoves his face into your neck with a low, sleepy grunt. You blink your eyes open, lips curling into a frown as he goes right back to snoring.
“Babe,” you huff, tapping his arm. He grunts, barely registering your voice. “Kats,” you try again, shoving at him a little harder. “It’s hot—get off.”
“No,” he clicks his teeth, voice rough with sleep. “We’re cuddling.”
“But it’s too hot,” you say exasperatedly.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is,” you snap, pushing at the heavy arm locked around your waist. “Your body heat is cooking me alive—I’m gonna die.”
His mouth twitches into a frown against your neck. “Stop being dramatic.”
“You weigh so much.”
“That’s fuckin’ rude. And I’m not even on you.”
“You are literally on top of half my body!”
He makes a low, irritated sound at your unwillingness to quietly let him have his way. (Heaven forbid, you think, that you choose not to spend your last moments under his crushing weight.) Stubbornly, his leg hooks more firmly over yours when you try to wiggle away, and his arm tightens around your middle.
“Stop moving,” he mutters.
“Move over.”
“No.”
“C’mon,” you whine, huffing tiredly. “Just move over a little.”
“There’s no space.”
You pause at his words in disbelief. Slowly, you lift your head from the pillow, squinting through the dark room. The curtains are cracked just enough to let a thin line of streetlight spill across the bed, pale and silver over the rumpled sheets. The other half of his bed is empty and untouched, just as you suspected.
Of course it is, when he’s abandoned his own side completely and migrated fully into yours.
You turn your head to glare at him as you hiss, “You liar.”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look at you as you catch him in his lie. His eyes are still closed, his face still buried in your neck, and his breathing slow and warm against your skin. “Fuck off,” he mumbles. “We’re cuddling.”
“I can’t sleep like this! You’re completely on my side of the bed—”
“It’s our bed,” he instantly corrects, giving you a grumpy look as he cracks one eye open.
“It won’t be for long,” you snap. “I’m going to leave.”
He waits thirty seconds before smugly humming, “Still here, huh? Knew it.”
“Where else am I meant to be?” you hiss, trying to pry his arm off again. “I’m being held hostage here literally against my will!”
He snorts. The sound is small and half-muffled, but you feel it against your skin, and that somehow irritates you even more because he’s clearly enjoying himself. Even despite being disturbed as he tries to sleep (doesn’t he have an early patrol in the morning?), even despite sweating through the sheets with you (and just how is he surviving this heat so unbothered?), even despite being shoved at and scolded (when will he grow a sense of shame?), Katsuki is still having a good time simply because he’s annoying you.
Your vein all but pops at the smug satisfaction he gets from getting under your skin.
“Katsuki,” you groan, going limp in his hold for one exhausted second. “Please. It’s so hot, and your quirk doesn’t help. Just get off—you’re so stubborn.”
His eyes finally crack open, narrowed and gleaming in the dark. For a moment, he just looks at you—hair messy, expression heavy with sleep, mouth pulled into that signature annoyed little line that it’s always tugged into permanently.
Then he clicks his tongue, offended. “Fine.”
The word is sharp and dramatic, and before you can even feel relieved, he releases you all at once and rolls over onto his back with a huff, taking all of his furnace-like body heat with him. The sudden absence should be a blessing. It is a blessing. You are relieved and can breathe again as cool air slides over your damp skin, and you can finally move freely without his arm compressing your ribs.
But Katsuki, of course, is not done being insufferable.
“So fuckin’ unbelievably rude,” he mutters to himself, purposely loud enough for you to hear clearly. “Always clingy during the day, crawlin’ all over me. Sitting in my lap ‘n stealin’ my food. But when it actually fuckin’ makes sense to cuddle, suddenly it’s a problem.”
You narrow your eyes as you pout, “I am not clingy—and you’re the rude one! It doesn’t make sense to cuddle in this crazy hot weather and die—”
“And if I said that cuddling you would kill me, then you’d send my ass to sleep outside. At least try to hide your fuckin’ double standards.”
“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself. “He’s impossible.”
“I’m right here, too,” he grumbles flatly, turning to you, mildly offended.
You roll onto your side to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him better. His arms are crossed over his chest now, biceps flexed, jaw set tight as though you’ve wronged him. (For someone who upholds the justice system of this country, you think it’s ironic of him to act that way—especially when he’s spent the last five minutes trying to suffocate you with his weight and body heat.)
You narrow your eyes. “Fine,” you click your teeth. His gaze cuts to you instantly as you throw the sheet off your legs. “You wanna cuddle?”
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “What’re you doing?”
“Exactly what you want,” you say sweetly, already moving. “You wanted to cuddle. So we’re gonna cuddle.”
“You—”
You roll on top of him before he can finish. All of your weight lands squarely against his chest as you sprawl over him, dramatically making a point to make your limbs seem boneless. One leg hooks over his thigh. One arm flops across his face. Your cheek smushes against his shoulder, and you make sure to go as limp as inconveniently possible.
Katsuki grumbles instantly, “Get off.”
“No,” you mumble into his skin. “We’re cuddling.”
His chest rumbles beneath you. “This shit isn’t how you fuckin’ cuddle, you damn idiot.”
You promptly ignore him, lifting your head just enough to shove your face next to his ear. Then you fake snore loudly. It’s an obnoxiously exaggerated replica of his own snoring.
Katsuki cringes before shoving at you (with little conviction). “Knock it off, moron!”
You snore louder, fighting back a giggle. His hand comes up to shove at your shoulder, but there is no real strength behind it. Not enough to move you, even though he easily could. Not enough to mean it, because he clearly doesn’t. His palm just rests there after a second, warm and broad against you, while he turns his face away like that might hide the way his mouth is starting to twitch.
You see it anyway—the small shake of his chest as the laugh he is trying very, very hard not to give you escapes against his will. You grin at the sight and snore again, right into his ear.
“Brat,” he snaps, but it comes out strained as he fights back a chuckle.
“Shhh,” you mumble, patting his cheek with the hand still flung half over his face. “I’m sleeping. You’re ruining our cuddle.”
“You’re ruining my life.”
“You’re the one who asked me out, so it’s your fault.”
“Well, I guess even I make mistakes.”
“So mean!” You gasp, lifting your head as you demand, “You’re saying I’m a mistake?!”
This time, the laugh actually breaks out of him. It is short and boyish, and it’s not something a lot of people witness. But you do—quite often, in fact, and you can’t help but melt at how sweet the sound is. Finally, you give in and properly curl against his chest, relieving him of the uncomfortable position your body is in over his upper half. Your eyes meet his, and you stare for a moment at each other before he looks away to the side.
The tips of his ears are just slightly red, you think—but it’s too dark to tell for sure.
“Just go the fuck back to sleep,” he mutters.
“Sure thing,” you beam as you tuck your face into his neck and fake snore one more time.
Katsuki pinches your side. You laugh into his chest, and this time, when he huffs in annoyance, he does not bother hiding the smile.
cuddling this guy in the middle of summer with that quirk must be miserable. u might as well cuddle a flame
