Yu-huuuu - 🌸

nopuedeser

In Shisui's mind, the only thing ruling were the memories he held of you.

Beautiful memories that brought a smile to his face and dimples adorned his cheerful countenance.

Throughout his life and shinobi career, Shisui made many promises.

Especially to you.

He promised he would love you forever, even if you weren't aesthetically beautiful anymore and lines of age appeared on your lovely face.

He promised he would marry you someday, a night when both of you were hiding under an old oak tree.

He promised he would be faithful to you, and that no one else would have his heart under a starry night while making love and he sucked on your neck.

He promised he would always protect you from any danger, even if it meant losing his life, even if in your words the danger 'wasn't that big of a deal.'

He promised that you both would have a family someday; perhaps two children, a girl, and a boy. In his mind, there was also the possibility of having a puppy so the children would have a pet and companion, something he always longed for as a child.

He... promised he would move on and that everything he promised he would share with another woman while you slowly died in his arms.

He was a liar.

.

.

.

.

'I am a great liar’, he thought as he took a step back to throw himself into the void.

He simply couldn't continue, not without you. He couldn't continue existing if you weren't by his side. He couldn't love anyone else if it wasn't you.

Before falling to what would be his imminent death, he asked for your forgiveness for not fulfilling any of the promises he made to you, and then he fell to his end while listening to Itachi's pleas to stop in the background.

Only typical canon violence was written here, love 🐓. . .🥚 just fluff and angst with a little of spicy

Blame Lana Del Rey for putting me in the mood of: “yeah, I'll make you cry and enjoy fluff and angst written with your favorite character sweetheart, nothing to worry about”.

@n3ptun3e ,, tag u since u like a lot this guy— promise i will write something more happy ☺️🤌🏼

Reblog if it's okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

please, please and please.

…

No, because when someone asks me, "what would a relationship with Itachi canon be like, you know, the rogue ninja who killed everyone to stop a civil war and abandoned his brother for his own good?", I imagine a relationship similar to that of Greg and Rose Quartz.

Imagine being a civilian who enjoys playing the guitar, and one day, singing in the forest, you encounter this mysterious man.

He congratulates you, arguing that he was drawn to you by your melodious voice and the gentle sound of the guitar.

He tells you his name after you tell him yours, although you vaguely asks why he didn't tell you his last name. But, Itachi is a nice name even if there's no suffix to pair it with.

The most random and imaginative topics arise in each encounter you both have. You two always meet in the same place, always at the same time. It quickly becomes a routine for you.

Without signs indicating that Itachi comes from any village or indicating that he is a ninja, you are left wondering where this sweet man could have come from. (although maybe if you looked behind the tree that is two meters away from you, you would see the articles he used daily)

Maybe he's the son of a vendor passing through your town, or maybe he's a tourist who likes to visit towns that aren't visible at first glance on the map.

Whatever he may be, it doesn't matter, not as long as your heart beats strongly when his hand brushes yours or when his fingers gently touch your cheek as he tries to tuck your wild locks behind your ear.

Itachi knows it's wrong. He knows these encounters are wrong. But he can't help but want to be by your side, listening to you ramble about random and simple yet fascinating things that as a ninja he never would have thought or imagined.

You make him feel like someone normal, like an ordinary man. You make him feel alive, something he hadn't felt since the massacre, perhaps even long before joining the Anbu.

It's as if he doesn't have blood covering his hands. As if he doesn't bear all the hatred of the world on his tired shoulders, preventing him from breathing.

All his problems disappear from his mind when you allow him to rest his head to take a nap, while you arguing that his dark circles look too big. Nightmares and insomnia leave him when you run your delicate hands, with no calluses in sight, through his hair. The protest dies on the tip of his tongue when you scratch that specific part that quickly turns him into putty in your hands.

One morning, Itachi Uchiha vaguely realizes that the dark circles and stress marks have become smaller and blames you for the gentle fluttering his heart does at the thought of you taking care of him. Kisame looks at him puzzled when he comes out of the bathroom. At first glance, he had a neutral face, but his eyes told a different story; they looked more alive.

Kisame wondered what or who made him that way. Itachi simply ignores him as usual, trying to keep the corners of his lips from rising because his happiness hasn't waned yet and he doesn't want Kisame to see him like that.

It's a night when Itachi finally realizes that he has fallen deeply in love with you. His heart stops for a moment when he realizes that it hurts to think about leaving you when he dies at the hands of his brother.

And he simply doesn't want to.

He doesn't want to leave your side. He's being selfish, he knows it well, but for once he wants to be. He himself destroyed all his dreams and hopes, all for Konoha and his younger brother.

By sacrificing his world, he can never become Hokage or live in Konoha again.

Maybe if he cut his hair and ran away with you to live in another secluded place away from the ninja world—

He stopped.

What was he thinking? He was dangerous. Everything about him was dangerous.

He had hurt so many people, had ended the lives of so many. You deserved someone better, someone who didn't have hands stained with blood or a destroyed man.

And he simply decides to push you away.

He told himself that this would be the last time. He didn't hesitate when he told you that he didn't want to see you again and that you should stay away from him.

Maybe if he were strong enough and you didn't have him in the palm of your hand, he would have been stronger, and he would have left without explanations.

But that wasn't the case.

"Itachi, you have to tell me what's going on."

Itachi sighed, almost as if trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "I— you have dreams, I don't want you to sacrifice everything for me," he told you the truth, unable to hide it under a lie.

"It's a pity."

"Uh?"

"You are all I want."

“So…”

“Hmm?”

“What was the answer?”

“… Love”

“Woahhh-! I know it!”

“So do i”

…

*the end*

love like you starts playing in the background

Also— maybe I’m gonna write a series of this now that i have ao3 🤭

itachi's back

Damian smiled as you stroked the unruly locks on his head.

He knew the purpose of your touch wasn't to mess up his hair; that's why he didn't complain.

"Do you have everything?" you asked as you bent down to fix his uniform shirt. Today, he was going to school; the holidays had ended, marking the start of a new day at school.

Damian pretended to grimace, "You talk as if I were a little kid, sister."

Your small laugh made him undo his fake grimace, making him smile again.

"Well, it's better if you go, young man," you suggested before playfully pinching his nose, "you wouldn't want to be late like last time."

At your words, Damian huffed as a blush of embarrassment covered his slightly chubby cheeks, "That time was Dick's fault, not mine."

You hummed, “Whatever you say”.

"Sister!"

Your laughter was the last thing he heard as he ran off to where he knew Alfred was waiting to take him to school, feeling in his chest the strange and warm bubble of happiness that was becoming increasingly familiar.

…

Damian woke up. The sunlight streaming through the windows warmed his cold face.

He slowly got up. His tired eyes scanned your room, which, despite the sunlight streaming through your window, still looked gloomy.

He missed you so much that sometimes he would enter your room to sleep. Your scent, which always comforted him, had disappeared a long time ago.

Last night, he had a nightmare, or rather a memory, of when he found your lifeless body, and with nowhere else to go, he went to your room, enveloped his body in your sheets, and pressed his face into one of your pillows, trying to capture your scent to calm himself.

But it was impossible.

And he cried, cried as silently as he could. Keeping silent was easy. A long time ago, when his mother punished him and the pain of the blows wouldn't leave him, he simply let the pain of the bruises flow silently.

He had gained practice in doing that, but he had lost it a little because of you. You had spoiled him by letting him cry so loudly around you when everything was too much for him.

Damian didn't want to get out of your bed; he wanted to stay here. But he knew that if he didn't go down, Alfred would come up to see how he was, and honestly, he didn't want to answer any of the old butler's questions.

He stroked your empty spot one last time, hoping for some reason it would feel warm, but instead, it felt eerily cold, just as cold as your corpse.

a small part of the chapter that was published today haha!

wanna read it? Sure! below are the links of the story 👇🏼

Quotev & Wattpad