yesterday I read a fan Fiction About male rivals x yan-kun, I normally will not read Fan Fiction for this site because I can not translate with google….I was just curious to read some without translate(So I don’t quite understand) ，but I am looking forward to the megamo part now！
Sakura had been unusually quiet today. Or maybe it was just that she seemed lost in thought today. He wouldn’t say more so than usual though. For the past week since they started to travel together, she had been seemingly lost in her own thoughts as if she was carefully thinking over what she was going to say next.
He watches from the corner of his eye as she starts to peel an apple in her hands. Maybe he was thinking too much about it. He begins to lower his gaze back down to his book but in that split moment, he senses it– the break in Sakura’s concentration. His eyes return back to her as he sees her cut herself with the knife in her hands. It almost takes Sakura a full two seconds later before she realizes it. She really was spacing out.
Suddenly, he feels quite frustrated as he puts his book aside on the ground and stands up. He watches as a drop of blood drips down to the apple in her hand. The sight seems to snap her back to reality as she drops the apple and lets it roll down to around her feet. A second later, she begins to heal her wound with her chakra. It was frustrating to him to see such carelessness from her.
“You should be careful. Even if you can heal yourself, I rather you stay uninjured,” he finds himself speaking without realizing it as he picks up the apple from the floor.
“Sorry,” Sakura mumbles. “I was thinking…” she trails off as she takes the apple from his hand. Her apology was different from her usual bubbly persona. There was something bothering her.
“Thinking about what?” There it is again. He was asking more than he thought he would.
Ok but imagine death note drama!L burning all his shirts except one and Watari doesn't know and so he has the opportunity to stay shirtless in front of Light the whole day without anyone suspecting anything. Bonus: he just puts on Light's jacket but doesn't close it, and the jacket is a little bit bigger than him so it slides down his shoulders now and then
I really wanted to write smth nice butttt I’ve no idea how to haha, so have this bunch of headcanons!
- Akashi would treat his birthday like any other day, no questions asked. He’d probably indulge himself in something tho, it could be something silly, like an entire day where he’d eat only tofu dishes, or something minimalistic, like a ride with Yukimaru.
- The GOM in their second year, threw a surprise party for Akashi. Even now he thinks fondly of that day.
- Rakuzan of course, loves to make a big deal of Akashi’s birthday. The first time, they only wanted to be let off practice, but then, they grew to love the slightly startled, slightly disbelieving expression that Akashi wore, and they’ve made it a tradition. (Even Mayuzumi attends, even tho Mibuchi has to drag him in. Every single time.)
- Midorima is usually the first to wish him. And as much as Akashi liked to tease Midorima about how he kept alarms to wish Akashi at exactly 12, Akashi would be very disappointed if Midorima forgot. Thankfully, Midorima is too particular about the details to actually forget.
He bristled, crushing the cold tea bottle in his palm, his fatigue and uncomfortable sweat forgotten after a long training session. What was her problem? Why was she here with her teammates and the rest of their friends anyway? It was supposed to be him and Naruto sparring alone.
Though it was hard to avoid both civilians and shinobi’s blatant gawking at the Hero of Konohagakure and the former missing nin/last Uchiha sparring in an open field. He hadn’t noticed when they all had wandered by. There were too many explosions and uprooted trees.
Ever since they were children. As genin. When he returned to Konoha. She’d always given him that same exact expression. He couldn’t quite pinpoint just exactly what look it was.
A/n: Oh a Kun smut, here you go I wanted this to feel more natural so I didn’t go super heavy on the smut area I went light and playful like Kun. (this is such a terrible smut and was rushed I will make better smut soon)
Your eyes fluttered open to Kun intense stare looking back at you. You licked your lips wanting for him just to attack yours with his. Jealousy was still flared in his round eyes. “Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” you said biting your lips. Kun leaned forward his lips so close to yours.
Summary: In which Uchiha Sasuke lies down and forgets how to breathe. AN: In which I try to write a Sasuke-centric fic because WHY NOT HAHA. Thanks to my friend for suggesting I write about a more personal topic to me. Prompt: PTSD/Panic Attack
(Uchiha Sasuke breathes in the scent of love; tucks himself inside the warmth of love; treasures the safety he feels incased in the arms of love; revels in the soothing presence of love. Uchiha Sasuke does not know how he has survived all this time without it.)
You know you are well. You have atoned for the sins you committed a long time ago. And so, you wear your redemption proud on your sleeve because you earned it, worked hard too damn hard for it.
But there are days, nights, and moments like this: when the night is too dark and the world too quiet that everything is suddenly alive and colorful inside Uchiha Sasuke’s head.
Your ghosts visit you like old friends and you know they’ve arrived when the long column of your wife’s throat suddenly reminds you of a time when your fingers were ready to snap it in half. Her slender back suddenly brings you to the exact moment when your hand was ready, crackling blue with killing intent and chakra, to shred through her chest. The thoughts punch you in the gut and they jumpstart the nightmares tucked in the crevices of your head.
A mere second ago, Uchiha Sasuke was a grown man.
Now, instead, you feel so small—too young for the amount of tragedy that would otherwise last anyone a lifetime.
All the same, you are the seven-year-old boy witnessing the decimation of a beautiful family; you are the twelve-year-old avenger ready to leave the only people willing to make you a home; you are the seventeen-year-old boy-man with the blood of your precious, loving onii-san in your hands.
In the darkness of your room, your emotions begin to weigh so heavy in the pit of your stomach as the past versions of yourself flash against your eyelids.
You feel like you are
and running away
all at the same time.
But this is not the first time this has happened.
In fact, everything feels all too familiar to you as you recognize the panic gushing from your esophagus. A pained sob escapes your lips and you are not too proud that you cannot admit weakness and so you do—because at this very moment, you weep.
Your cries echo like choked, raw, wet rasps against the silence of the room. You weep like the small boy who looks so hopeless and defeated against the blank stare of his only nii-san. It reminds you of the boy who cannot control the rage and the grief that he will slam his chidori into anything that moves.
Your world spins as you, limbs strained and stiff, try to grasp at your chest, at the sheets, at thin air, anything to anchor you because your mind is eating you alive from the inside.
You hear your name being called out, hazy against the drumming in your eardrums. Unsure if it’s merely a memory, you try your hardest to open your eyes as your whole body is tense—almost like in battle but this time, with yourself. You make out the figure of Sakura, with her hair immaculately splayed out on the pillows and her hand tugging at your own.
Hands glowing green, she gently pries your stiff fingers from your chest. She holds your arms open and she tucks you in within her space—she cups the back of your head underneath her chin as she rubs circles on your back, her voice trying to soothe the fire inside your veins.
But still, you hardly recognize the sounds that she is making because all you can hear are screams, wailing, and “Sasuke-kun, stop!”
You continue to whimper because the pain is too powerful and the pressure is still too much, too thick, too heavy on your chest. Your breathing is still too shallow, too little, and too deep. Because goddamn, the electricity is seeping through your fingertips and you. Need. To. Take. Control.
Your vision swims and your throat closes up. And you are so, so scared for your wife because you are too close to her right now.
But Sakura Haruno—his dear Sakura—does not know how to give up. Not then, not now, not ever.
And she tries, and tries, and tries, until she makes you listen.
“I’m right here, anata.”
She repeats it like a mantra. She tries hard and long to calm the storm inside you—like she always does.
“I’m right here, Sasuke-kun.”
The thrumming in your ears lessens.
“I’ll always be here.”
Your breathing slows back to normal.
And the soothing rhythm of Sakura’s words finally bring you back. Because hasn’t she always saved you? Sakura Haruno shines and you–You cannot believe your luck, clutching the woman who is both home and freedom, that you have someone to hold on to during nights when you are grasping at the straws of your sanity.
You can feel her smile against your forehead.
“Okaeri, anata,” she murmurs. Each word punctuated with a hint of laughter but her tone is heavy with relief.
You hold your wife even closer. Your lips pepper kisses on her neck, on her jaw, on the corner of her mouth—each one heavy with gratitude and love, love, love, so much love that it makes you want to cry again at the rightness of it all. Because you cannot believe that love is right in your arms, in your space, in your heart. And you do not know how in the world you came to deserve such a thing.