⋆˚࿔ éli! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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.

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.

༄ Itachi

Itachi is a very observant person since he was little, proven by the highest abilities he worked for, a very skilled man who was praised and looked up to by others. Still, he is humble enough not to act like an entitled one.

Itachi seems to be an expert in what he does; his insight and lack of prejudices taught for a very young eye would make people around him assume he is good at everything. They will be shocked to see the calmest, pacifist shinobi actually being more shy when speaking about inward feelings.

Meeting you and seeing such an introverted, kind person, he didn’t expect to be the one to speak more. He observed the difficulties you had from the start when speaking with others, and especially in public spaces. Also, Itachi will have imprinted forever how shy you were when you first met his parents, blushing and even stuttering for simple conversations.

He always tries to ease your mind, but even he sometimes struggles. Because he didn’t seem at first to calm you with his wise advice, like “Not everything that weighs you down is yours to carry. Feel the fear, but don’t let it control you.”

But he stopped doing that in the heat of the moment after you couldn’t contain a glare at him. So the worst scenario for him was to be open enough, look inward, and show more emotions, especially through affection. And of course, this also helped your fears of speaking about how he feels about you.

He will lean his body around you, maybe a hand on your back, a brushing finger around yours, a gentle caressing on your head, offering a smile that only you can sincerely appreciate. Itachi will avoid exposing you in too many interactions, intentionally taking the lead of a conversation if he sees any hint of you fidgeting.

The questions will follow instantly, something along the lines of. “Breathe with me.” — while he squeezes your hand. “Focus on my voice.” — while he whispers in your ear. “Do you want us to leave?” — not caring about where he is more than how you are feeling.

Also, there is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea. Call it a bit questionable, but he tried to make you associate stress relief with tea, too. Every chance he could get, a chamomile, mint, or lavender tea, or anything you want, would be right in front of you. Listening to you, letting out your anxious thoughts as he embraces you at the same time.

༄ Obito

Obito is a simple man. Once he is in a relationship with someone he likes and loves — he will be obsessed. You want to cling to him? Do it every time. Don’t worry, you’ll even have a competition with him. Eventually, it even became overwhelming with his excessive caring.

“Baby? How are you?” He will say, kissing your cheeks, maybe your teary eyes, maybe your temple as he speaks. “What do you want me to do?”

He will be maybe even angrier if someone intentionally, maybe not, tease you or make you uncomfortable. Even making you step in after you saw him, too passive-aggressive to a clueless person, gripping his hand to catch his attention.

༄ Madara

Madara doesn’t understand the concept. What do you mean by anxiety? Anxiety for what? From people? Which people? Tell him, and he will resolve this in a minute.

If you have second thoughts about how he feels about you, you try to hide them enough so as not to show weakness to an arrogant man like him. But Madara isn’t stupid, never was.

“Care to say why my wife ignored me today?”

Wife, not girlfriend. He told himself before that if he were ever have someone, that would also be the only and last one for him.

Madara followed you, steps as slow and powerful as your heartbeat.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I think you're imagining things.”

He snorted, looking down at you when you turned your body around, gasping at the closeness. His big, calloused hand touched your chin, raising it.

“I’m not that old, woman. Only my soul is.”

His insistence could be seen in the way he looked at you. A prisoner in his own world.

“Sometimes I don’t know what your priorities are, Madara, and if there’s space for me here.”

Madara thought it was disrespectful to say such nonsense to him, but your burning eyes showing your warm soul was enough for him to sigh, spreading the tear on your cheek with his thumb. Madara can be called any insults, but he is not that kind of a fool to want to see his wife cry.

“If I chose you and only you, it was because I wanted and that will never change in this lifetime.”

༄ Tobirama

Tobirama is a stern man who speaks bluntly about almost any topic. Maybe some people would’ve thought he would be an expert in a relationship, too, but you caught Tobirama struggling with his emotions, so he could ease your stress since the beginning — that’s what makes you appreciate it even more.

Although difficult to handle at first, Tobirama sees you for what you are enough to categorize it as a duty he must accomplish to be worthy as a husband.

“My partner for life is my wife [Name], who will be standing beside me in the chair as an equal, and she must be respected as much as you respect your leader.“ Followed by a firm squeeze on your hand, followed by a side glance that tells you everything he’s struggling to say directly.

༄ Shisui

Shisui is a down-to-earth man. Never arrogant about his own wins. But about other things? He’s a nuisance. At the same time, meeting him, he screamed in trouble.

“Itachi? Don’t tell me we have a new member of our team and you didn’t tell me.” His grin was shameful, yet not directed at his old friend. “What’s your name?”

Shisui saw that the sudden attention made you uneasy, and it was hard to speak more than a murmur.

“I’m [Name]. Nice to meet you.”

His eyes soften a bit, taking your hand to shake it gently along with a friendly smile.

“The pleasure is mine.”

One more trait Shisui has is patience. He was one of the few people who had as much patience as you need to accommodate new people; that’s how he set off a romantic spark. He was first to take you outside, at first with other people (mostly Itachi) and then only you two. He was the first to buy you flowers the first time when he confessed, adding after it a “Take your time,” to not feel pressure.

It’s normal for him to give you space when needed, reading the room pretty well. So it’s hard to fool him, hiding something from him.

“Is my baby upset with me?”

Your cheeks flush in a second at the nickname, not used yet to his cool-headed behaviour.

“I’m…not.”

He opened his arms, smiling to encourage you.

“Come on. Come here to me.” Shy and all, you couldn’t refuse his hugs. He starts running his fingers through your hair, speaking in a sweet tone only for you to hear. “Let me hear you, baby.”

༄ Sasuke

That was one of the reasons Sasuke was attracted to you in the first place. Your reserved, shy nature. You somehow remind him how pure a soul can be, easily embarrassed or nervous like he was as a child. If guided well, you could have the potential to achieve greatness.

Other times, he felt provoked by your reserved, closed side because that will make two of you, a mirror for himself.

Sasuke will be irritated if he sees you not standing up to yourself if someone is bothering you. But that anger will be redirected to the people, not you.

So imagine how he felt when you were the one confessing to him, all flustered and speaking almost in a whisper that made his heart tremble because you did that for him. That image with your stunning, pretty face will be forever in his mind.

Still, it will be harder to get out reassurance words from him. Firstly, because you wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong, only responding to silence until he wouldn’t take it anymore.

“Tell me.”

He spoke at the table in the shared kitchen, gripping the spoon near the tomato soup you prepared for him. So smooth with your small gesture like this, cooking one of his favourite meals, yet barely speaking to him.

You looked over your shoulder, giving a short side glance before speaking.

“Tell you what?”

“What happened?”

You gulped, but didn’t dare turn around to him again.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing?” He scoffed, rising from the table and coming closer until your breath starts being irregular. “Is that how it will be? Lying to eachother?”

That hurt. Sasuke was right, but how could you show him how flawed you are? What if he loves you less because of this?

At the lack of an answer, Sasuke turned you around until he stopped. His eyes widen, baffled by the tears in your eyes before you hide them with your hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this. It's not your fault, it's mine. Just mine…for doubting your love for me, is it? Because if you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t be with me, right?”

Sasuke was shocked to see this side of you, not used to hearing such big words that resonate with him. You weren’t the one thinking this, since he already thought this before starting this conversation. In fact, that was the most irritating thought poisoning his mind over and over.

He cupped your cheek slowly, even afraid to be this vulnerable, and gave you time to drop your hands to see your face.

“Don’t hide for me. You saw me as a whole, and I intend to do that too.”

You bit your lip in distress, and his eyes lingered before it locked on your eyes. Then, slowly, he leaned until your lips touched his. It was short, but the best he could do right now, along with a whispered “I don’t want anyone else.”

༄ Sakura

Having doubts while being with Sakura? Maybe for the first dates, because she made it official. Afterwards? No real reason. She’ll reassure you so much if you need it; not a day would pass without your cheeks getting warmer around her.

Just tell her once you are anxious about what she feels for you, and that’s it. Small tickets glued on the fridge for you to see when she’s not at home with encouraging words like “Good luck at work today! You’ll rock them!! Love you.” and probably multiple, small hearts near the writing. Inside your little storage glass with food made with love, you’ll have one of them too, especially if you had a bad day.

Although she’s a real deal when speaking about other insecurities, you saw the inner struggles that she tries to minimize. She forces a smile when she’s not in the right state of mind, so you don’t worry. How she dismisses when you start questioning her about how she feels.