✿ an AU jujutsu kaisen where Gojo is losing another best friend/brother to an ideology he can’t follow.

✿ there’s fight and bittersweet between two best friends.

✿ it’s not romance. not smut. fight. action. original male character. original clan. original cursed energy. some parts from the original timeline still happens here.

I’ve been wanting to write a fanfic based on the jjk world, but making my own story and plot within an AU timeline with an original male character, but I know that fanfic is mostly girl!reader and with original FEMALE character.

The story has a plot obviously . Also there’s themes like: sexism, enslavement, breaking chain, corruption, greed etc. The “golden child” that sees the problem and fixes in his own way (🩸🪦⚰️).

How do we feel about this? It’s not gonna be a [name] or (Y/N) system. There’s original characters that never showed up in JJK they gonna have names as will the main male character. I’m not sure about romance………………I haven’t thought so far, if there is it would probably be an original female character too…. Idk idk idk idk.

𐙚 author's note: I wrote this headcanon really fast. There’s about 600 words. It’s the first time I actually write smut — im so fucking embarrassed about— but anyway I hope you enjoyed <3

He is not nearly as lazy as he lets everyone believe, at least not when it comes to you. Shikamaru is the kind of man who has to drag himself through most days, or gets dragged along by his friends with a sigh and a reluctant complaint: “Alright, alright.” But between you and him, all that restrained energy has to go somewhere. He is also the type of man who is shameless. When people look at him, they can’t imagine that the man who stands in a slouched position with tired eyes is, in reality, an animal who will take you whenever and wherever he feels like.

Coming back from a mission with you? He will take you from behind on top of a tree. One hand wrapped around your hair and the other grabbing your hip while holding his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, adding an extra heavy pound onto your pussy, his cock touching deep inside you, making room within your tight walls. And you best be sure, he will be saying the most absurd profanities in your ear, his voice slow and husky, making you even wetter. “Attagirl, you’re taking me so well.” And that makes you get there. You love that man’s voice, and he knows it, and he uses it against you. He uses your weakness to make you go on your knees and suck his wet, sticky cock. He can be both rough and gentle; it really depends on how he’s feeling. Shikamaru is just the best of both worlds. He can make you gag while holding the back of your head, almost balls-deep in your throat, your breath barely able to keep up with the suffocation, and he can be gentle while sliding his length in slowly, giving you time to keep up with the suffocation. When he comes, he’s gonna make sure you either swallow it or wear it on your face. When both of you get back to the village, you have trembling legs, and he’s already ready for round two. He’s gonna remind you to clean up before presenting yourself to the Hokage. “You got some dried cum. You better clean up before we see Kakashi.”

While his favorite position is cowgirl, let me say that it’s not because of laziness, but rather because he loves to see how your stomach bulges with his cock buried deep inside you, how your hips move so slowly, almost swallowing his balls. The way your mouth falls open as you moan his name sounds like a melody to him, your eyes rolling back and your nails digging into his chest. He loves to grab your ass, spread it open with his fingers, leaving his mark, and then hammer upward into your wet pussy while your tits bounce in front of his face as he sucks on each of your nipples.

At first, Shika wasn’t really vocal, but once he realized you got needier and wetter for his voice and his dirty talk, he started being more consistent with it: “That’s my girl, taking me so good.” “Fuck, this bulge in your belly is making me even harder.” “Your pussy is amazing.” He loves being dirty with you. He feels safe, and he loves to make you feel adored as well.

Shikamaru has always played everyone thinking he is just too lazy to do anything, you were also played by him in the beginning. You thought that tired eyes never really paid attention, that he was too lazy to move around when you saw Ino or Naruto moving him by force because he didn’t want to move from where he was.

By the first time you guys had your first time together you were definitely proved wrong.

─────────𐙚─────────

𐙚 one shot fluff : greenhouse : fem!reader x gaara

𐙚 context: Gaara spent months building a gift for you, the woman he loves. You thought the library was the gift, but it wasn’t.

𐙚 word count: ~4903

𐙚 authors notes: Enjoy this beautiful gaara one shot. this doesn’t have smut, since I was not in the mood to write it (I’m horrible writing smut, I’m really good at reading them, but not writing). Also, Reader and Gaara are in their 30’s. Love you guys, have a good read.

If someone had told you years ago that you would marry the same creepy boy who tried to kill you back when you were kids, you would never have believed them, perhaps you would’ve gone as far as calling them insane and showing them your broken arm and the six fractured ribs he gave you. But life is a wild ride; twenty years later, you are walking side by side with that boy—now a grown man who held your heart in the palm of his hands—while holding hands as he guides you around the glass greenhouse.

The red-haired man stopped you in your tracks every few feet to show and explain each new flower he has added to the collection; some smaller than others, some brighter than others, but regardless, all adorable in their own way and so well taken care of. You didn’t know the first thing about flowers, unfortunately this was not a hobby of your own; not for the lack of interest or effort, but both you and your husband figured out pretty early that patience was not a seed easily planted in you as it was in him, but nonetheless you loved with every piece of your heart how Gaara dedicated his time to this with such tenderness and shared this piece of him with you.

Gaara let your hand go, kneeling down to pick up a medium-sized pot from the floor with bright golden flowers blooming like little suns. His usual neutral expression settled on his face, but his eyes now carried a gentle warmth as his fingertips brushed over the petals without hurry. His touch carried a reverent care, barely bending them beneath his touch. For a fleeting moment, he simply admired them as you admired the man in front of you.

Only then did he lift the pot toward you. There was no urgency in his movements, or in the way that his eyes invited you, waiting for you to experience them the way he did.

“It feels soft,” he said, his voice as soothing as ever. You took the petal between your thumb and index finger, feeling the softness of the petal and the dampness left from watering.

“It feels so velvety…” you said, tilting your head slightly, your eyes taking in every detail of the flower. You could feel Gaara’s eyes watching you, but what you couldn’t tell was how his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw your expression softened at the plant, knowing you were enjoying something he nurtured with his hands, the same hands that once destroyed. Using your other hand, you lowered it beneath the pot to help him hold it, your fingers settling against his. “What is this flower called?”

“These are desert marigolds. They don’t live for long, but they’re quite resilient to the heat and barely need any water. Earlier today was the first time I watered them in months,” your husband explained. He spoke about the flowers with the same quiet patience he gave to everything he loved. There weren’t many, but you were one among them. You had heard him speak before to villagers, council members, shinobi, yet there was something different whenever he was here. Every word spoken was not to impress you, but simply because he wanted the two things he cherished the most to exist in the same moment. Somehow, that was your favorite part of Gaara. “They don’t really have a strong scent, but if you breathe slowly you might be able to smell it.”

So you did just as Gaara said. The smell was faint, but it was there, an herbal scent. A sun-warmed smell that, for some reason, made you think of a quiet afternoon, reading books and drinking green tea.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were back on track once again, Gaara gently guiding you inside the greenhouse while his hand intertwined with yours, keeping you so close to him like you could be taken away from him any second; an involuntary habit that he didn’t realize he had himself, because of his past that nowadays it was like a faint smell of a memory.

In the beginning of your relationship with him, a little while after The Fourth War had ended and you both found yourselves working together with orphaned shinobi children who had lost their parents during the war. You, as a grown woman and shinobi, knew the feeling of losing your parents to a vile catastrophe, how hard it felt for each child whose parents didn’t come home. And for Gaara personally, it was an unknown feeling: the grief of losing a parent since he was never loved like a son, never cared for as more than a weapon. He understood his role not only as their Kazekage, but as a child who never felt that love; he wanted to show those children that he cared for them; they weren’t expected to fill their parents’ shoes as shinobis one day. They weren’t weapons to be wielded at the cost of their lives.

Back then, the trust and affection you tried to show were hard for him to accept, it was hard to see himself deemed worthy, but after all these years, he did learn to let himself be loved—it had taken a long time, a lot of deep conversations, putting emotions on the table, and being vulnerable, and as the years went by, the easier it became for you two to deal with these situations. He saw you as his safe place where he could show his other sides. But even to this day, your husband would still get visits from his past self; the nightmares and memories of the pain he caused not only to his villagers, but also to his friends.

“Darling,” Gaara called you softly, using his favorite nickname. He didn’t look back at you when he called you, but his fingers curled more firmly around yours. “There’s something I wanna show you. Something special I’ve been meaning to give you.”

With the words caught in your throat, you found yourself unable to form an answer right away. Your cheeks warmed into a crimson blush before you could stop yourself, biting back your lip at the same time. Even after all these years, he still had this quiet way of catching you off guard and making you feel like a little girl around your crush.

Your husband wasn’t a man of too many words, but what he didn’t do in words he compensated with actions; acts of service were his love language. Sometimes, when his mouth didn’t speak, his eyes softened around the edges, and the green within them seemed to brighten whenever something genuinely excited him, whenever you kissed him, hugged him, or even just held his arm in public. The times the two of you walked around Suna, he loved to see how attentive you always were when somebody came to talk to you both, you being the chatty one between the two of you. You were kind and generous to everyone, and because of it he could see how much they admired you, almost as he did. His young self would’ve never thought he would have someone to walk beside him, much less that it would be the girl he had once tried to kill because she wasn’t scared to put him back in his place.

That girl would’ve become the woman that showed him what love in its purest form was and what daily partnership was. Every now and then, your husband would glance back over his shoulder, watching you look around with curious eyes.

He remembered that, when he became Kazekage, the villagers and council members didn’t take much of a liking to him. But you weren’t among them; you could’ve hated his guts, but you were the first one to show him respect and forgiveness for all the pain he had caused you. You were the first person to believe in him, in his change of heart and attitude when everyone else—except his siblings—didn’t. You were the first one to defend his name among your peers.

Before Gaara, you never had many thoughts about marriage. Before the war, you were always bound by shinobi duty and never had the time for this sort of thing. During the war, you weren’t even sure if you were going to survive it. So many of your comrades had fallen in battle that all you ever thought about was protecting the ones beside you. So the idea of marriage never crossed your mind until he came along—even then, both of you had to learn together what marriage was all about.

Once both of you made your way through most of the greenhouse with a comforting silence that followed—you understood why Gaara loved to be here all the time; it was quiet and peaceful, far from his duties as Kazekage and expectations—he stopped both of you in front of a white locked door. Watching the man unlock it with a key, you lifted your hand, smoothing the back of his hair. You loved running your fingers gently through it, always lingering there for a moment, feeling how soft it was and remembering the time you and he shared your first kiss, how your fingers went straight up to the back of his neck, your fingertips playing with his short hair. But nowadays the strands were a little longer, the redness of his hair had deepened over the years, giving him a more mature look, leaving behind the traits of the teenager who led thousands of people in war to the full man standing right in front of you.

As soon as the lock opened, Gaara turned to you. Your hand slipped from his hair as you noticed the way the shape of his eyes softened. His expression carried a quiet brightness that only a person who spent every day with him would recognize, and the vivid green now lit up just as it always did whenever something genuinely excited him.

Loving Gaara was overwhelming, not in a negative way, if anything it was the other way around. All these years together, and you still wondered how it was possible to keep falling in love with the same person over and over again. Each time he kissed you with a hunger that took over his body, kissed you in pure love and had his senses overtaken, you fell hard for him. Each time he hugged you when you were worried about your son, Shinki, each time he sat with you while you read a book, both content to sit in each other’s quiet presence, each time Gaara told you he loved you in his own words or just by the way he gazed at you with such comforting looks.

Within the same second, your brain traveled back to the memories of when you and Gaara became friends, two young people devoting their time to helping Suna’s orphanage, both finding strength in each other to help each child in need. Then, two friends found a seed of love between them, both confused by unfamiliar feelings and a kiss that changed everything. Then you both exchanged rings, certain that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Then came the day the two of you adopted Shinki; Gaara kneeling before the three-year-old boy and telling him he now had a home, not a house, but an actual home. Then Shinki laughing at Gaara after he fell down a whole flight of stairs, and every moment you found yourself looking at Gaara not only as your husband but also as a father despite the weight of his past. For a second, you realized you’d been holding back tears. You closed your eyes, trying to hide them behind a fond smile that found its way onto your lips. “I love you,” you said simply, but truly, your heart beating faster with every passing second as that same warmth from earlier returned.

When you opened your eyes again, a single tear slid down your cheek, only to be met by a serene smile spreading across Gaara's face as he looked down at you, standing a foot taller than you while his hand found your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the tear. Gaara knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was simply a fact. He learned very early the difference between happy tears and sad ones, and right now he could tell by the way one corner of your lips lifted and by the soft blinks of your eyes that those were happy tears. “I hope what’s behind this door shows you how much I love you,” he replied. Gaara leaned forward as his sand shield parted on its own around his face and hands making room for you. He cupped your face between his palms as his lips brushed yours with unhurried tenderness that only belonged to him. He tasted like green tea and honey. His breath was warm, as always, his bare skin was soft compared to the roughness of the sand around him.

“You spoil me too much, Gaara,” you sighed softly against his lips, your hand gently squeezing his cheek once you both had a few inches apart.

He chuckled, taking the hand that just squeezed his face and lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before the sand shield quietly settled back into place. “I’m your husband. It’s my job making sure my wife has the best of what I can offer.” he replied, the familiar roughness of his voice carrying a warmth that appeared only when the two of you were alone.

You glanced at him funny. You scrunched your nose, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Well, your wife thinks you do a great job.”

“I’m glad. It means the books I’ve been reading for the last fifteen years have paid off.” Gaara took one step back, his hand settling on the handle of the door as you tilted your head back, a soft laugh escaped you.

His eyes scanned you and the door at the same time, the quiet excitement in his expression as he extended his free hand to you and brought you closer. “I hope you like it.”

Stepping inside, your eyes widened as you took everything in. In front of you lay a couple of shelves lining the walls, holding every single book you owned or you’d mentioned wanting to read over for the past year. In the far right corner, a large window overlooked Gaara’s garden. Beside it sat a wooden cushioned rocking chair. Resting on a small wooden stand next to it was a bell-shaped glass dome protecting the single red bud of an unfamiliar flower.

“Gaa—” your voice broke. You wandered around the room, feeling Gaara's eyes on you as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. You brushed your fingers over every detail: the carved flowers decorating the white shelves, book covers and titles, walls painted in a warm beige color.

You looked back at your husband, before closing your eyes and running into his arms, letting yourself melt into his strong, lean frame. “Baby…I—” cupping the back of his neck, you hugged him so tightly.

One of his hands settled around your waist, while the other rested gently against the back of your head, keeping you tucked against his chest. His fingers disappeared into your hair as you melted into him. A gentle curve formed on his lips, filled with satisfaction and fondness. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, he lingered there a little longer, feeling your breath be taken away by the surprise.

“I'll take that as you like it.” You didn’t see the relief settling into his gaze. His shoulders relaxed as he realized he hadn’t gone overboard. He silently thanked the gods he hadn’t listened to Shinki, who had insisted, ‘Mom is Suna’s First Lady, Dad. You need to give her something big that matches the title’.

“Like it?” You finally lift your head, looking at him with amused disbelief. “Love it. That’s the right word.”

“Well, I’m glad you love it, but there’s one more gift.” You could hardly believe his words. You looked at him in shock. What else could he possibly give you, you wondered. Wasn’t a private reading room enough?

Reluctantly pulling away from the embrace, Gaara took your hand and guided you towards the chair. Your eyes were still wandering around the room, completely unable to believe he’d done all of this right under your nose without you ever noticing. Gaara set his sand gourd sitting on the floor before taking a seat in the rocking chair, gently pulling you onto his lap. The two of you now faced the garden he had built with so much love and care. It was a beautiful view for sure, reading there would definitely become one of your favorite parts of the day, plus you would be so close to Gaara when both of you were enjoying your own hobbies.

Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t realize how far your mind had drifted until Gaara carefully placed the cool glass dome into your hands, drawing your gaze to the medium-sized glass dome protecting a single red bud you didn’t recognize. Looking at Gaara, your head tilting to the side, confusion lingering in your expression. Every flower he’d given you had already bloomed, letting you admire every petal from the beginning. Whatever this flower was, it was unlike anything he’d given you before, that was for sure.

“Why is it not blooming?” You asked, your voice expressing the same amount of confusion shown in your face. “Isn’t the season for this one?”

Gaara lifted the lid, putting it on the floor, while the bud lay there. “This is a new flower that was discovered recently by the Nara clan in their territory.” The red-haired man stated, as taking the flower and giving it to you. “There’s only a few of them. I was able to get this one with Shikamaru. I wanted to give it to you.”

You nodded slowly, paying attention to his words. Trying to find any meaning to why is still a bud. Gaara knew gardening and plants aren’t your forte. “You want me to plant it somewhere?” You asked, holding the flower by the no so vivid green stem. Your eyes carefully watched the exterior of the petals, but it genuinely looked like a normal sad red flower.

“No,” he answered simply before taking the flower into his hand. “The Nara clan discovered that this flower only blooms when it’s infused with chakra.” Your eyes widened for the second time today. You had never heard of such a flower. “After months of studying it, they discovered that once someone’s chakra is infused into the flower, it never dies.” He fell silent, his gaze meeting with yours. You could tell his eyes were different than normal. There was a longing in them, something deeper than affection.

“Are you serious? This is incredible,” you said, excitement taking over your voice. You’d always loved discovering things you’d never seen before.

“Our anniversary is coming soon. I was supposed to only give you this then, but I couldn’t help myself.” Gaara’s voice dropped, carrying the faint disappointment of someone who’d failed to keep a secret before settling back to his normal. Holding the flower carefully in his left palm, he raised his index finger and middle finger, without hesitation channeling his chakra. A thin stream of pale blue chakra stretched from his fingertips to the flower.

It didn't take long for the flower to begin blooming, its stem becoming greener and stronger, the pale blue chakra enveloping the petals deepening the red in each petal until, little by little, the flower came to a bloom. The flower bloomed into a deep crimson, delicate white lines tracing each petal like strokes across painted canvas. So different from before. So alive.

“In this Shinobi world, death is certain and it can come in different ways; some good and some bad,” he said, his naturally rough voice lower than before, each word measured as though he wanted you to understand every one of them. The moment those words left his mouth, your eyes found his again. “But even if one day I’m gone, a part of me will always remain with you.”

You held the flower in your hand, your eyes moving between it and Gaara, its thick stem a subtle testament to how resilient the flower truly was. How strong was your love. You understood what he meant. As a shinobi yourself, you knew the risks of the world you both lived in, you had survived the war just as he had. You had grown up in an era where it was an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. You felt it as a mother of a young man who is a shinobi himself. You two understood that no matter how many years passed, how peaceful is danger would always remain. Gaara was the first line of defense of Suna. He wasn’t invincible. No shinobi was. Sometimes, all it took was one person with enough hatred and enough power.

You look at your husband, really looked at him. You set the flower in between the two of you as you leaned toward him. Your forehead rested against his as your hands made their way to his face. “Not even death could tear us apart, Gaara. You’re my husband and I’m your wife. The day one of us is gone, our hearts will always belong to each other and we’ll meet again in the next life.”

Gaara’s gaze lingered on your face, as though finally taking in what you’ve said, his eyes slowly drifted to your slightly parted lips. The hand resting against your back drew you just a little closer, until there wasn’t enough space for anything but the warmth of each other’s breath. His thumb brushed slowly along your cheek before coming to rest beneath your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours. For the briefest moment, he simply admired you. Years together, and somehow you still managed to steal every thought from his mind with only a handful of words. His eyes softened in that familiar way only you knew how to recognize before he finally closed the remaining distance between you.

His lips met yours with the same certainty that had always belonged to him, slow and unhurried as though he wanted to savor every piece of you. His hand beneath your jaw lingered there only a moment before slowly sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers disappearing into your hair while the arm around your waist pulled you impossibly closer. You answered him without hesitation, your hands finding his face once more, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his jaw before dropping your hands into his shoulders. As the kiss deepened, you could taste his tongue on yours, soft and hesitant at first, before giving into a sudden, deep necessity. For Gaara, it was as if with every passing second he wanted to lose his breath, as long as he could drown in you, in your mouth, in every whisper that escaped your lips.

Outside, night began to fall and darkness took over the room, with only the red flower glowing in a crimson flux that cast shadows on the wall. Gaara was a man of extreme restraint in the outside world, known for his discreet and guarded nature, but within these walls he allowed himself to feel a sense of freedom. He kissed you without fear, there weren’t any judgments from you on how he liked to love you and praise you. He didn’t hold back his touches. Sliding his large hand down your curves, he rested his touch on your ass; his fingers firmly gripped one of your cheeks, squeezing the area and making you moan against his lips. Your hands gripped the man’s shoulders hard enough for him to understand that he had permission to proceed exactly as he wished.

Gaara’s hand started to move quickly to unbutton your dress, but the sound of firm footsteps echoing through the greenhouse pulled you both out of your bubble.

“Mother? Father?” Shinki's voice came loud, carrying the same calm demeanor from Gaara. “Are you guys here?”

The young man’s figure appeared in the doorway while you and Gaara stood by the window, looking over the garden covered my the moon. You turned to face the red painted boy with a welcoming smile. “Hey sweetheart, your father was just showing me his surprise. Isn’t it amazing?!” You said, looking at your son, who, at barely fourteen years old stood taller than you. Beside you, Gaara had already returned to his usual calm.

“You liked it?” Shinki’s eyes moved around the simple, but beautiful room, as though silently judging his father’s decoration taste. “I told father to go a little…fancier, but I guess he went the other way.”

Shinki was a perfect mix of you and Gaara. At least in personality. He was always too adult for his age, too serious and stoic. Very much like how Gaara always was, but you still could see the traits of the little man that used to sneak to your bed and sleep with you at night.

“Oh, I loved it so much. Everything.” You smiled sweetly, resting one hand on Gaara's shoulder while the other held the flower to your body. “Thank you so much, dear.”

Gaara smiled at you, taking your hand in his. “Of course, darling.” His gaze then shifted to his son. “Also, Shinki, how was the mission? I wasn’t expecting your team back until tomorrow.” If you didn't know your husband as well as you did, you would’ve missed the faint annoyance beneath his otherwise calm voice.

“Yeah, Uncle Kankuro chose to stay in the village tonight,” Shinki said, his voice level and steady. He didn't look tired at all, standing tall while his heavy coat of black sand rested quietly over his shoulders. “I left a clone behind to keep watch. The rogue ninja moved on to the next town, but his pace has slowed down. He won't get away.” Your son and your husband were definitely two peas in a pod for sure. They shared that exact same unshakeable way of speaking. “We will be moving out at dawn to finish the mission,” Shinki added, looking between you and Gaara. “The target isn't much of a threat. We will have the report on your desk tomorrow night.”

Gaara gave a single nod, satisfied with the answer. He knew how hard Shinki worked to be the perfect heir. As much as Gaara felt proud of his son's accomplishments at such a young age he also could see how hard Shinki was on himself. “Good. Please don’t take unnecessary risks. A rogue ninja is never worth more than the life of one of our own.”

“I know, father.” Shinki replied, his expression remaining steady and serious, though his tone softened as he looked at the two of you. “You only told me that… what? A thousand times?”

“A thousand and one now,” Gaara replied without missing a beat. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your lips.

“Well,” Shinki continued, folding his arms over his chest. “Since I apparently interrupted something…” His gaze swept across the room before a knowing judgmental look settled on his face. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Shinki!” Your face immediately warmed, a deep crimson blush rushing up your cheeks. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“What?” he said, his voice as flat as a paper. “It’s not my fault. The door was open. You guys should’ve been more careful.”

Gaara let out the quietest sigh, the faint annoyance from earlier returning to his expression for only a brief second before disappearing just as quickly. “I’ll remember to lock it next time,” he said with complete seriousness.

The room felt silent. You and Shinki looked at the man who was standing in a perfect posture. If your face was once a crimson blush, now you have no face at all to look your son in the eye, who looked at Gaara with an unbelievable expression.

“Gaara…” that’s all you were able to say before hiding your red face in your palms. You had an unshamable husband that was for sure.

Shinki shook his head, his face settling into an expression carved in pure disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually admitted that, father.” The boy let out a long, defeated sigh.

Gaara looked at his son completely unfazed. “We’re leaving.” Gaara laced his fingers through yours, gently pulling you closer as you kept your head lowered, too embarrassed still to look at either your son and your husband.

“Yes, sir,” Shinki answered as seriously as ever, though the faint amusement in his voice betrayed him.

The three of you left the room together as Gaara gently guided you out. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder taking one last look at the room before leaving it behind. A smile formed onto your lips as soon as you noticed Gaara watching you with the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile.

“Come on,” you said, giving Gaara’s hand a gentle squeeze and finally being able to meet your son’s eyes. “Let’s go have dinner as a family.”

─────────𐙚─────────

author notes: Hii I hope you liked, I loved writing this one shot with my second hubby gaara. If you liked, please don’t forget to like, comment or repost that will help tons!! ily I’ll see you soon!

𐙚 like i would mini series : fem!reader x kakashi hatake. (au)

𐙚 context: after years of your break up with kakashi, he makes sure you understand that no other man would love you like he would.

𐙚 chapter 2/4 - word count: 4072 ch: 1

authors note: here’s chapter two, so yeah, i was completely out of my mind yayyy ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ I told you i was gonna give you a bigger chapter, pspsps, before reading i wanna let you guys know that this fanfic have bittersweet moments and the other dude is visually inspired by joo jaekyung from the jinx manhwa. i don’t wanna hear how how shitty he was in the manhwa, believe me I KNOW, but he is just too damn hot—i need him to take part on the story sue me, but besides he being the visual inspiration for the other guy there’s nothing else. I reviewed the chapter, but my apologies for any typo or any mistakes! Anyways, live laugh fuck us kakashi. Amen, good read sweetie <3. (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

The silk beneath your fingers matched the summer dawn outside the window; it felt fluid, bright, and completely weightless.

The fruits of your lifelong labor were finally here. You had loved fashion since you were a little girl; fifteen years ago, you were just the daughter of farmers living outside Konoha’s walls. You had come to the great Leaf Village with nothing but a dream of starting your own boutique, working tireless hours in different shops to save money while taking on simple clothing orders; you went from sewing a ripped uniform for a shinobi to designing simple dresses for low-rank shinobi wife’s. It wasn’t until you turned twenty that you were finally able to afford the keys to your own modest storefront.

Now, ten years later, you were standing in your studio, in the back of your store, watching the showroom buzz with life. Three employees moved gracefully between five customers, all browsing the racks of your original designs. The view brought a profound sense of warmth to your heart; you smiled at the thought that you had actually made it.

The road had been rocky, and your business had struggled immensely; especially five years ago, when you were grieving something, or someone who was still alive; in the immediate aftermath of that heartbreak, you had aggressively weaponized your craft simply to survive. You buried your thoughts and unhealed feelings under an endless mountain of orders, pouring every single ounce of your remaining emotional and mental endurance into your designs.

But the pain became your catalyst. What had once been a good local clothing store was now a blooming powerhouse with your name proudly displayed at the door.

You began traveling to other lands in search of rare inspiration, seeking out unique cultural experiences to help define your style and build your brand. You were finally achieving the exact dream that a younger version of yourself had held close. The heavy, lingering fog had cleared; your life was finally, beautifully back in place.

But you wouldn’t have done it entirely alone. Kurenai and Shizune had been your anchors for the last five years, even as shinobi themselves, bound to the same exhausting world that had fractured your heart once, they chose to walk with you through every step of your recovery.

They consistently showed up for you, shielding your newfound peace with a fierce, protective devotion. They helped you navigate the hardest time of your life, offering an unwavering support that never once required his name to be mentioned to validate your pain.

Yet, moving on didn't mean suffering from amnesia. Sometimes, on the quiet stroll home after a long day at your studio, the village itself would betray you still.

Sometimes when you passed by one of his favorite bookstores, your eyes would instinctively track the new releases displayed in the window, and a faint ache would bloom behind your ribs. It wasn’t a desperate longing anymore, just an unfortunate heavy note of nostalgia for the version of Kakashi that existed in a very distant past. The man who used to curl up on your couch with green tea in hand, reading aloud while his fingers traced idle patterns into your hip.

It was a brief, bittersweet pause; a small acknowledgment of a past life that no longer belonged to you, or at least you thought.

"If you stare at that pattern any longer, you're going to burn a hole right through it."

The voice was low, rich, and alive, instantly making you smile widely. You looked up, a genuine smile instantly erasing the lingering thoughts of the bookstore.

Standing in the doorway to the staff area was Kaiza. He stood with his arms folded over his broad chest, his dark, unruly hair falling into sharp, intense eyes that looked directly at you. His loose linen shirt was laced casually at the collar, completely open, exposing the warm skin of his throat. Kaiza was a chef who absolutely loved to spoil you, and for the past two months, he had become your safe haven.

It all started three months ago during a girls' night out with Kurenai and Shizune. They had taken you to check out a newly opened restaurant in the district. The short-haired one had ended up getting pretty wasted, talking absolutely nonsense most of the time and explain to us how Kurenai got the prettiest perfect size tits and a body that could make any man’s head spin, especially a certain Mr. Asuma. Shizune wasn't wrong; everyone thought that. Kurenai and I laughed until our stomachs ached because we knew that shizune would be completely out of it tomorrow.

The chaotic night had ended with you and Kurenai literally carrying Shizune out of the establishment. It was a massive struggle, since every two steps, Shizune tried to break free and sprint back inside to finish the remaining sake bottles under the excuse she wouldn’t be able to do it again until god knows when. Just as your arms were giving out, Kaiza had stepped out of the door behind you three and like a true gentleman, he offered his help, lifting a rapidly sleeping Shizune into his arms and carrying her while you and Kurenai guided him.

Once you finally reached the apartment, Kurenai announced she was staying overnight to make sure Shizune would be fine in the morning, but before crossing the threshold, she made sure to speak firm enough for the strange man to hear; she casually dropped that she was an elite Jonin for the Leaf, and that Shizune was a deadly shinobi herself; when not wasted. It was a blatant, highly effective warning in case he tried anything funny.

Back then, Kaiza didn't even flinch; he simply lifted his hands in a peaceful, defensive gesture that clearly signaled I wouldn’t dare.

Assuring the crimson-eyed woman that you were heading straight home, Kaiza warmly offered to walk you the rest of the way. Right before the door clicked shut, Kurenai poked her head out one last time, glaring down at him to make absolutely sure he took her threat seriously. He did, in fact, to the point that the silent threat still felt relevant even in the present day.

The walk had been nice and filled with laughs from the both of you when he admitted to being scared of Kurenai. Through a couple of easy chats here and there, you learned he was actually the owner and head chef of the restaurant you had just left; he had been wrapping up a long shift to head home when he spotted you and the girls struggling on the sidewalk.

After that night, the universe seemed determined to keep tossing you into each other's paths. You would randomly run into him at the morning markets, where he was hand-selecting fresh produce for his kitchen and you were shopping for your empty fridge.

A week later, you bumped into him again outside your favorite tea shop; he had immediately paid for your drink, and then both of you decided to walk on the sunny street corner while he just listened to you talk about your love for clothes.

After a third accidental run-in at the dango stand, Kaiza had finally smiled, looked you dead in the eye, and asked you out on a proper, official date to a quiet spot on the edge of the village.

From then on, the dynamic had evolved. It started with late-night drinks and casual hookups, but it had steadily deepened into something beautifully intentional. He didn't come with a countdown timer, and he most definitely stayed for the entirety of every single date.

"I brought the beef noodles you liked from the test kitchen," Kaiza said, stepping into your workroom and immediately grounding the space with his presence. “No spicy seasoning this time, since you can’t even handle a single lick of Rayu anymore”.(rayu: Japanese chili oil). He set the steaming container on your table, casually nudging a stray spool of thread out of the way.

"I handled it perfectly fine until your recipe burned my tastebuds off," you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully as you smoothed down the fabric of the dress you were working on. "A chef shouldn't be weaponizing his spice against innocent civilians."

Kaiza let out a rich, booming chuckle that instantly filled the quiet room. "You've been sewing since the last time I was here,” he noted smoothly, completely ignoring your defense as he walked around the long worktable to step right up behind you; his close proximity cast a sudden, comforting wave of heat over your shoulders. “And I was literally here this morning. Step away from the mannequin and let me take care of you for thirty minutes."

You turned around to face him, stepping directly into his space and letting his strong arms wrap securely around your waist. When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were warm, tasting faintly of ginger and star anise; there was no hesitation in his touch, no underlying fear of a sudden summoning scroll violently tearing him away from your side.

"You're a lifesaver, Mr. Togashi," you murmured against his jaw, leaning your entire weight into him.

"I know," he chuckled, his fingers lightly kneading the tension out of your lower back. "Now sit. Eat. Tell me how the trade meeting with the Suna merchants went, and later I'm dragging you out to the restaurant tonight. I'm finalizing the private booth menu, and I need my best critic."

By the time dusk painted the village in deep shades of indigo and violet, the boutique was finally locked for the night. Walking down the bustling main street, your fingers were loosely intertwined with Kaiza’s. He was telling a story about a spice market in the Land of Lightning, his deep laughter echoing softly against the storefronts. His palm was broad, warm and anchored against your side.

For the first time in so many years you felt completely visible. You weren't a secret kept in an apartment; you were a woman being proudly led into the light.

Meanwhile, only a few hundred yards away, the vibrant energy of the village felt entirely detached from the heavy silence hovering over the Jonin standby station.

Kakashi leaned against a wooden railing, his hands buried deep in his pockets as Asuma stood beside him, lazily exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. They had just returned from a gruelling, week-long scouting mission near the border, their bodies exhausted.

Asuma was speaking about the mission report having to be at Tsunade's desk by the next morning, his voice low and steady. Kakashi nodded along out of habit, his lone visible eye tracking the crowd with passive vigilance.

Then, his entire universe came to a violent halt.

A familiar silhouette stepped into the glow of a street lantern, Kakashi’s breathing locked in his throat. His visible pupil dilated in an instant, a sharp, physical jolt of recognition firing straight through his chest.

It had been five years. Five years of agonizing silence, of forcing himself to try to stop thinking about you, of convincing his own fractured soul that letting you go was the only noble thing he had ever done. He had memorized the shape of your sadness on that final night, but seeing you now, the contrast was staggering.

You were still breathtaking, just like he remembers. The dark circles under your eyes were entirely gone; your long hair caught the low breeze flowing and your posture relaxed, and radiantly alive. Your eyes shone with a light that had been completely missing during the rocky final months of you and him.

But the air left Kakashi's lungs entirely when his eye traced the path of your arm down to your hand, firmly, comfortably locked inside the grasp of another man.

Kakashi’s gaze locked onto Kaiza. His shinobi instincts, usually reserved for lethal threats, began furiously analyzing the stranger man. He didn't know who this man was. He didn't know where you were going. All he could see was a man who stood with absolute confidence; wearing comfortable, open linen that didn't carry the weight of a flak jacket. Kakashi watched as the man leaned down, whispering something in your ear that made you throw your head back and laugh, a genuine, unburdened sound that Kakashi hadn't heard from you in the final six months of your relationship.

A suffocating wave of something similar to a planet caught in their orbit, and bitter jealousy roared to life inside Kakashi's chest, hot and punishing. A thought echoed sharply in his mind, dark and unbidden, born from a desperate, bleeding ego.

At the same time, Asuma trailed off mid-sentence. He had noticed the sudden, rigid shift in his friend's shoulders, the way the usually lazy, slouching man had gone entirely static, his posture wired like a wire under tension. Asuma followed the line of Kakashi's vacant, hyper-fixated stare across the crowded street until his eyes landed on you and Kaiza.

Asuma took a slow, heavy drag from his cigarette, a profound wave of sympathy washing over him. Because of his own relationship with Kurenai, Asuma understood the brutal toll of loving someone while bound to the shinobi life. Kurenai had told him how much you had suffered before the break and after, and how hard you had worked to rebuild your personal life from the ashes.

"Kakashi," Asuma muttered softly, the smoke curling around his bearded face as he spoke in a low, warning tone. He didn't look at his friend, keeping his eyes on the crowd to protect whatever dignity Kakashi had left. "Let it be. You gave up the right to look at her like that the second you crossed the door."

Kakashi didn't answer right away. His knuckles turned white inside his pockets, his eye remained entirely anchored to your back as you and Kaiza turned the corner toward the newer district of the village, disappearing from his sight but burning a permanent, agonizing image into his mind.

Once the last flash of your coat vanished around the stone corner; the street seemed to darken instantly in your absence, keeping Kakashi entirely frozen. A suffocating silence hung over the two men.

Asuma didn't push immediately. He let the silence breathe, watching the embers of his cigarette burn down to a sharp orange point before flicking the ash over the edge. He knew the volatile nature of a man’s regret; he had stared it down in his own mirror more times than he cared to admit.

"She looks well, Kakashi," Asuma said quietly, his voice low and steady. It wasn't meant to wound; it was just an unavoidable truth.

Kakashi didn't move a single muscle. His lone visible eye remained locked on the empty corner where you had been just seconds before, his pupil still tightly dilated from the shock of seeing you. The image of your hand resting so naturally in Kaiza’s palm was burned into his retinas. Since the break up, he had convinced himself that you were simply working on your business, that you were safe, and that his absence was a shield protecting you from his chaotic world. He had never prepared himself for the reality of you replacing him, even after five years.

"She does," Kakashi finally replied. His voice was raspy, stripped entirely of its usual casual cadence. It sounded hollow, like a man speaking from the bottom of a well.

"Kurenai tells me her business is expanding to the other villages," Asuma continued, turning his back to the street to lean his elbows against the railing, giving his friend some space to breathe. "She's been grinding like crazy these last years. Works herself ragged. Kurenai says she’s finally smiling again.”

The words struck Kakashi with the blunt-force of a physical blow. Smiling again. It meant that during their final six months together, he had been the one draining the light out of your face.

He remembered the dark circles under your eyes on the night of the breakup, the redness of your nose, the tears sliding down your face, the absolute finality in your posture, and the devastating realization that he had become the villain in your life just by trying to survive his missions.

"Who is he?" Kakashi asked. The question tore out of him before he could stop it. It was a weak, deeply human inquiry that felt entirely foreign on the tongue of Konoha's most lethal captain.

Asuma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noting the rigid, tension running through Kakashi’s shoulders. "I don’t know much about him, but his name is Kaiza Togashi. Apparently a chef who opened that high-end place down in the new district last month." Asuma paused, letting the description sink in before adding the most critical statement.

Kakashi closed his eye, a deep, exhausting ache blooming behind his eyelids. The bitter, possessive instinct that had flared up when he saw Kaiza whisper in your ear was still simmering in his chest, making him feel entirely unraveled. He wondered what the man had said to make you laugh like that. He wondered how soft that man’s hands were to make you grip them so tightly, and how warm his body was to make you want to stay so close. He wondered if anything in that man reminded you of him. Kakashi wanted to despise the man, wanted to find a flaw in his posture or a threat in his open demeanor, but there was nothing.

The stranger was just a good man holding the hand of an amazing woman Kakashi had abandoned.

"You both made a choice years ago," Asuma said, his voice dropping into a firmer, older brother tone as he tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his sandal. "You told her she deserved someone who could stay. You were right then, and you're right now. Don't go tearing down the peace she finally found just because it hurts to see her living it."

Kakashi remained silent for a long moment, the cool night breeze ruffling his silver hair.

"I know," Kakashi murmured, his voice returning to that flat, unreadable slate that the everyone knew so well. He pushed himself off the railing, his posture instantly melting back into his trademark lazy, slouched demeanor , a perfect mask over a bleeding soul. "I'm just tired from the mission. I'm going to head home. You can take care of the mission report."

Asuma watched him walk away into the shadows of the street, his heart heavy for his friend. He knew Kakashi wouldn't sleep tonight; he knew the man would spend the dark hours pacing his empty apartment, haunted by the ghost of a civilian girl who had finally stepped into the light.

The transition from the cool breezy main street into Kaiza’s restaurant felt like stepping directly into a furnace of warmth and life. The establishment was stunning; the architecture blended polished cedar wood with minimalist paper screens, completely filled with the rich, intoxicating aromas of toasted sesame, ginger, and rich bone broths.

Thriving under Tsunade’s economic boom, the main dining room was completely packed with local civilians and off-duty shinobi. Yet, the moment Kaiza slid open the heavy door to the private booth in the back, the bustling noise of Konoha melted away into a quiet, intimate sanctuary.

"Welcome back to my office," Kaiza murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile as he gestured for you to take a seat on the plush tatami mats.

He didn't immediately join you; instead, he bypassed the table to shed his outer coat, hanging it up alongside yours before moving toward a small, private prep station built into the corner of the booth. Stripped down to his simple clothes, the sprawling veins across his forearms flexed as he washed his hands.

You couldn’t help yourself from watching the effortless way his muscles moved under his skin; a sudden, low pull of warmth stirred deep within your chest, a heavy and long-forgotten rhythm typing against your ribs as your eyes lingered on the solid strength of his back.

Yet, right alongside that quiet flare of heat, a wave of profound comfort settled over you. This was a man completely grounded in his craft. Unlike the chaotic, unstable experiences you had survived in your past life, Kaiza’s entire world was tangible, predictable, and sweet.

"I've been working on a five-course tasting menu inspired by my time in the Land of Fire's capital," he explained, his expressive dark eyes locking onto yours with undivided attention. "But tonight, you're only getting the centerpiece. A slow-braised duck with plum glaze and hand-pulled noodles."

"You're completely spoiling me, Kaiza," you teased, leaning your chin in your hand as you watched his precise, unhurried movements.

"That's exactly the plan," he replied smoothly, pouring you a small cup of warm, premium sake before setting a beautifully arranged plate in front of you.

As you took your first bite, the rich, savory flavors burst across your palate, perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the plum. You let out a quiet sigh of pure satisfaction, making Kaiza chuckle with genuine pride. He finally sat down across from you, pouring himself a cup of sake and folding his arms on the low table.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about how nice it's been going out with you," he said softly, taking a slow sip of his sake. “I’ve been enjoying our moments quite a lot”. His dark, expressive eyes didn't waver; they anchored you right to the spot with a quiet intensity.

The warmth of the sake burning down your throat paired with his directness made the low pull in your chest flare into something entirely undeniable. It had been years since you last shared a connection like this with anyone. Your last breakup had shattered your heart into a million jagged pieces; it had taken an immense amount of time to glue it all back together, forming a new fragile heart.

You couldn't lie and say you hadn't deeply enjoyed these last two months with Kaiza. Even when things were just a casual hookup, he was incredibly attentive; he made you feel thoroughly seen and desired. "It’s been the best part of my months too, Kaiza."

As he slid closer to you, his large frame instantly blocked out the rest of the room. When his broad hand reached out, his warm, soft thumb cupped your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Good.” That’s all he said before his lips closed the distance, warm and tasting faintly of sweet plum and premium sake.

The moment his mouth pressed into yours, that same stubborn, powerful spark fired deep within your brain; intoxicating, heavy rush of pure familiarity that left you momentarily breathless. Without your mind actively recognizing or being able to name the feeling, your body instantly melted into the sensation, your veins singing with the phantom memory of what it felt like to be completely consumed by a reckless and familiar passion. Your subconscious instinctively mapped this heat to a blueprint it already knew by heart; the precise, consuming way another man used to demand your space, your air, and your entire soul. It felt incredibly good to feel that specific, devastating fire again.

Kaiza let out a low, rough growl against your mouth, his large hand locking firmly around your waist to pull your weight completely into his body. His lips parted yours with a smooth, consuming hunger, his tongue tasting you deeply, almost capable of driving away every lingering thought of the outside world.

Your heart hammered a wild, frantic rhythm against your ribs; your hands slid up from his shirt to grip the broad muscles of his shoulders, your nails sinking slightly into his skin as the sheer intensity of the intimacy overwhelmed your senses. It had been a very long time since you had been held like this; without a countdown timer, without a hidden mask, and without the terrifying underlying fear of a sudden mission violently tearing him away from your side. Kaiza was entirely present in the heat of the moment, his mouth moving against yours with a raw, desperate possessiveness that left you completely breathless, melting every ounce of your resolve into the plush tatami mats beneath you.

─────────𐙚─────────

author note: let me know what you guys think, I love reading comments as silly as they might be. ily 🤟🏻

𐙚 like i would mini series : fem!reader x kakashi hatake. (au)

𐙚 context: after years of your break up with kakashi, he makes sure you understand that no other man would love you like he would.

𐙚 chapter 1/4 - word count: 1410 - ch: 2

𐙚 authors note: please read the final note

"If it's what you want, then so be it." His voice sounded firm, a carefully constructed barrier meant to hide the sharp ache blooming in his chest.

Kakashi hated the words you had just spoken. Every word felt like a defeat he couldn't strategize his way out of. He stared at you, his visible eye wide and unblinking; he was trying so hard to brace himself that he looked completely detached, terrified that if he showed even a fracture of his composure, he would fall apart right in front of you.

But across from him, you were too emotionally diminished to care about his feelings, like you once did.

You just wanted him to stop looking at you that way. The way his visible pupil trembled in desperation proved he was hurting. You knew it, but so were you.

Your mind violently flashed back to a year ago; the argument in this very house when he had promised he would talk to the Lady Hokage about reducing his border patrols. You still remembered the desperate warmth of his hands holding yours, promising that things would change, that he would find a way to be more present in your life. You had believed him then. But looking at him now, you realized it was just a loop. It was a draining, endless cycle where you kept ignoring the truth just to avoid the fallout, only for the silence between you to grow heavier and angrier every time he left your side.

For a year now, you had survived on the pathetic scraps of his time, waiting up for a man who was always everywhere else but never there for you. You were entirely done waiting to receive the bare minimum, knowing that, in the end, he gave everything he had left to his job. You had tried to be the understanding girlfriend for too long, but loving a ghost was emptying you out from the inside.

A heavy wave of guilt weighed on you, bitter and familiar. You knew exactly what you had gotten yourself into three years ago when he first walked into your shop with Might Guy, who had been one of your longest time clients, a jumpsuit lover freak. It was then, the moment your eyes had crossed Kakashi's, the entire atmosphere in the room had shifted. The room suddenly felt different from any other person who had ever been at the shop before.

But now the atmosphere has shifted again.

“Yes, that’s what I want. Sure, Kakashi,” you said, your voice dripping with a bitter, defensive sarcasm born of pure heartbreak. You wondered how a man could be so brilliant on the battlefield and so utterly blind here. You hated him so intensely in this exact moment, purely because of how much you still loved him. “Because I wanted to be in this position? Because I wanted to receive scraps from my own boyfriend, who can barely spare an hour for me?”

“I tried my best! I tried everything I could! To be here and to keep doing my job. I don’t know what you want from me!”

Kakashi's voice rose, cutting through the tense silence of the apartment like a blade. Inside, he was panicking. He never shouted. He had never once raised his voice at you, even during your worst disagreements, but the terrifying prospect of losing you entirely made him unravel like paper on water. His shoulders were rigid, his breathing shallow. He was a man who conquered the impossible for his village, yet here, in front of you, was completely powerless to stop the slow death of the only good thing in his life.

You didn't flinch away from his anger. Instead, the tears you had suppressed for months finally overflowed, burning hot and bitter against your cheeks.

"I wanted you, kakashi," you whispered, your once soft voice cracking under the weight of your heart breaking. The shouting was gone, replaced by a devastating grief. "Not your ghost. I wanted a partner. Someone to share moments with. Someone who doesn't look at the clock the second he crosses my door." You were falling apart in front of him, unraveling like you never had before in your life. “I look at you standing right across from me, and it feels like there is an entire ocean keeping us apart. There is too much empty space between us now.”

Kakashi closed his eye, your words striking him with a precision that cut deeper than any kunai. The anger drained out of him just as quickly as it had flashed, leaving him looking soul-weary. He rubbed a hand over his face. He wanted to promise you the world, he knew he had made too many promises he couldn’t keep. Now the jar was overflowing.

"This is my job," he said, his voice dropping back down to that quiet, raspy tone, laced with a profound, hidden sorrow. It wasn't an excuse; it was just the brutal reality of his world. He took a single, instinctual step toward you, but stopped when he saw you instinctively tense up. The fact that you had never reacted to him like that shattered his heart in a thousand pieces. “Coming back to you alive is me trying my best."

"And I appreciate that, I really do," you said, your heart shattering completely as you spoke the finality of the truth. "But surviving isn't the same thing as loving me. You're giving everything you have to Konoha, and you're bringing the hollow shell of what's left over to my doorstep. I can't keep living on scraps. It's making me resent you. And I don't want to hate you."

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Kakashi stood by the window, the moonlight catching the silver of his hair, his mind racing through the breathtaking moments you both had during the good time of the relationship.

He looked at you for a long, quiet moment. His lone visible eye recorded every line of pain and disappointment in your face. What once was a face full of brightness was now completely drowned by dark circles under the eyes that used to light up his hard days. He noted the slump of your shoulder, and the absolute finality in your posture, how you were physically protecting yourself from him. With a cruising weight in his chest, he finally realized what you had been trying to say all along. “I guess we’re already defeated for a while,” He murmured. “I just didn’t realize how deep the damage was.”

You looked up through your wet lashes. The relief of finally being understood was there, mixed with the crushing weight of knowing this was the end of what you had built for three years. The end of gentle kisses, warm hugs in the cold mornings, and the lighting spark of his body when touching you. It was all passing the finish line. You never thought there would be an after him, but here you were, stepping right into it. “I’ve been loving you in the dark, Kakashi. I can't stay this time. Not like before.”

"You deserve someone who can love you and actually be there for you," Kakashi said softly. The words sounded like they tore right out of his chest. “I’m sorry. I really thought we would make it through.”

He walked toward the door, his movements silent. He pulled his mask back up. The barrier against the world was up again, and now the perfect shinobi, even when walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to him, knew he couldn’t look back. He knew that if he turned around and saw you crying again, he would beg to stay. He would be selfish enough to want to keep you close even when it was destroying you. He refused to do that to the only woman who had ever dragged him out of the darkness of his own traumas.

His hand gripped the doorknob. "Goodbye."

The soft click of the lock turning felt louder than any explosion you had ever heard. To you, it felt like you had finally crossed the finish line, but there aren't any winners, only losers. To him, it felt like severing a piece of his own soul.

And just like that, he was gone into the Konoha night, leaving you alone in an apartment that now felt far too big, facing a healing process that would agonize you.

─────────𐙚─────────

authors note: hii guys! i hope you like the first chapter of this mini series. i really wanted to talk a little about it!

i got this idea while listening to like i would by our delicious zayn (͡o‿o͡). i kept wondering what it would be like to have THE kakashi hatake, the copy ninja himself, saying those words to me. anyways… i dreamed a little too hard (*ﾉ∀`*) and couldn’t stop myself from writing a fanfic about it.

i could’ve just written the smut, BUT where’s the fun in that? i love drama, i love fights, i love characters suffering and then making me go wowowowo—if you know what i mean.

also, idk if you guys noticed, but i also wrote this breakup chapter inspired in love in the dark by adele, the song was stuck in my head, then i was like… why not?

i was randomly listening to it right after like i would, and suddenly i was like, “wait… what if this song inspired the breakup?” my heart broke (つ﹏<。) just imagining it, and of course i had no choice but to write it. i’m just as emotionally attached to the pain as i am to the romance and smut. I love suffering (︶︹︺)

but anyways ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑ !! i’ll probably be posting the next - longer - chapter tomorrow or thursday (unless i completely lose my mind and post it tonight… but don’t get your hopes up lmao), so keep an eye out!

please please please let me know what you liked or didn’t like, because this is my FIRST EVER time posting a fanfic and i’m trying to build up my confidence. any genuine feedback is more than welcome! just don’t be mean… i’m very sensitive and i will cry.

ps: i love using kaomoji on my notes, so get used to it!

Byeeee ヽ(•‿•)ノ