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TOSHINORI YAGI X READER {TRISTIS OCULIS." or: "YOU HAVE SAD EYES," }

A/N: It's Writermask, and it's my first post as the ✨BaCkUp bLoG✨!!! I officially got permission by Mod Eve (once-upon-a-scenario, you should really check them out if u already don't follow them), and am so happy!!! 😊this is a new writing s t y l e I've tried, and I hope u enjoy!!

Warnings: ooc Toshinori, mentions of blood, implications of abuse and depression.

HIS eyes are blue. 

They're the most bluest you've ever seen- bright, bright sapphire hues, the rich spill of azure and cerulean over the black of the canvas, a slice of cloudless skies, the crystalline haze of the ocean. 

And because you can recognize and dissect the character of a person through the shapes and colors of their eyes, (you know that sounds weird, and vaguely disturbing, even inside your head)- you know his eyes are the eyes of someone trustworthy, the eyes of a caring, friendly person- not the usually jaded, maybe even angry individual you usually encounter on these late night shifts.

(It's… refreshing, in a sense. Sort of, anyway. At least he's not glaring at you, impatiently grinding his teeth as you check his things out, or radiating the stifling aura of someone intimidating and not to be trifled with (like that Yakuza man with the cold, golden eyes that you met last week, but you digress), like the usual pew of customers that trickle in at this time of the night. 

Instead, this man just looks… incredibly tired even as he manages a polite, feeble smile for you, and his skinny, frail-looking frame slumps with fatigue, like he's particularly world-weary today- as though the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders, heavy with a burden no-one but himself could possibly bear. 

There are purple shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks are sunken in, and there's a certain hollowness to the way his sunflower-hued bangs veils his thin, tired face, a certain resignation to the way the sharp planes of his shoulders are hunched together, as he droops tiredly, looking like he's about to black out at any given moment.) 

His eyes- those bright forget-me-not blues- they're the eyes of someone bright and cheerful (just… not right now), the eyes of a soft, caring person. They hold true kindness in them- the rare sort of kindness that's genuinely heartfelt, and you can already tell that this tall, lanky skeleton of a man has a big, big heart, and honestly, you have a shrewd feeling that he offers this silent gift of kindness- this unaffordable, rich gift of anyone and everyone who needs it. 

And without even knowing this stranger, you just know he's the type of person who'd make a good hero. (Or maybe, the sort of person who's already a great hero, in his own way.) But despite all that, you glimpse something below that bottomless blue of his empty gaze, something hollow and empty, almost like… 

Melancholy. Loneliness. Sadness. 

And it’s contagious, somehow, in some way or another, and your heart aches for him- because you know that feeling all too well to not be acquainted with its presence, to the agony and inner turmoil that ensues with its touch. 

The wilting look of frailty, of fragility in his lowered eyes reminds you of your own dark days- (of spending time curled in on yourself, of the constant hunger roaring through your stomach, of the gaping void of loss in your heart, the wet feel of metal flooding your mouth, of screaming and screaming and screaming for a help that never came-!) 

You blink back the sudden bitter sting of memories flooding your mind, and you stare absently at him- at this poor, broken ghost of a man and wonder if this is how you once looked- once upon a time when you lost everything and everyone and had no more purpose to live, and his items suddenly goes limp in your hand as you lower them to the surface of the counter. The words spill out before you can stop them- hold them back, and for some reason, they taste sour on your tongue as you unconsciously murmur them out loud. 

"Tristis Oculis."

The blonde startles at the sound of your voice slicing the silence apart, as though he's forgotten your presence for a moment, and then he straightens immediately, hands clenching into fists at his sides, as he goes stiff-shouldered and rigid-spined, like he's ready to be attacked. Despite the cordial smile that's still twisting his thin lips as he realizes there's only you- the entranced cashier behind the counter, there's a wary look in those tundra blue eyes as he tiredly meets your flustered gaze, but there's also confusion veiled behind the fatigue, curiosity laced behind the wariness. 

"Sorry?"

He asks mildly, and you falter, breath hitching in your chest, eyes widening in absolute horror, as you realize that you've just voiced your musings aloud, and you slap your exasperated palms over your mouth, petrified at your blunder. 

Pure and absolute mortification and embarrassment dawns on you as you realize what you'd just spoken, and you bow immediately, a hurricane of apologies falling uncontrollably from your lips, as shame weighs heavily in your chest, accompanied by the familiar stitch of gnawing guilt knitting your insides together into an uncomfortable, anxiety-induced bunch. You can feel heat rush to your face as your cheeks ignite in a wild, brilliant shade of ashamed scarlet. 

You truly are sorry sorry sorry, you really hadn't meant to offend him any sort of way, you hadn't even meant to mutter that phrase aloud, you just-... You're awkward, and not really good at this, and you're deeply sorry, you really are. Sorry sorry sorry. 

You tell him as much, your arm flailing about in wild, panicked gestures as you scrabble to bow even more deeply for apology, and you're pretty sure you've confused the poor man even more, as now he's blushing heavily too, wheezing something along the lines of "No, no, there's no need to apologize, really, it's fine!" as he forces a strained, awkward smile for your sake- an effort that doesn't go unnoticed by you, despite the terror clutching at your chest and the panic flooding your veins. 

(Really, he's too kind-hearted.)

"But really, what did you mean by that phrase? I'm not… exactly familiar with it. "

The man says, when your panic finally dies down and all formal apologies has been exchanged between the somewhat exasperated him and your horrified self, tilting his head curiously, the corners of his mouth dipping down in a small, curious frown, and despite the blush of embarrassment coloring the apples of your cheeks, you can't help but compare him to an eager puppy. An eager, adorable puppy. 

As soon as the thought forms, you snuff it out defiantly, cheeks are flaming even brighter at the- the audacity of it! He's your customer, for God's sake! 

(But really, overlooking the momentarily halted drowsiness in his lanky, skeletal limbs, the fatigue sagging his shoulders and tiredness creasing his gaunt face, he really looks… cute. Not that he doesn't look cute regardless, but that's not the point!) 

You startle nervously when you realize he's still looking at you, with those intensely blue, blue eyes, steady gaze a relentless blizzard, and you wring your hands together in a nervous tick as you begin to explain your… strangeness. 

"T-tristis Oculis. It's um," You smile awkwardly at him, hoping to ease the storm of tension rolling thickly through the atmosphere, (that apparently only you seemed to detect, as the blonde seemed too preoccupied with searching your eyes for an answer.) "It's a- um, a Latin saying. It, uh, it means sad eyes." 

You answer, stuttering around the dryness in your mouth, and you tongue feels like a heavy, unmoving weight in your mouth as you reply, fingers flexing tightly as you fist the fabric of your shirt in your clenched palms, to soothe your forever worsening anxiety, and you can feel the flush on your cheeks sear even hotter.

He stays silent, unreadable, (you get the feeling that he's normally a very expressive person, but just… not right now. Maybe you hit a nerve, or finally offended him in some way?) and you begin to panic once more. You fumble to say something, to break the awkward, heavy silence but you fail for the proper words as your mind blanks of all coherent thoughts, meek voice withering at the back of your throat as you desperately try to breathe around the knot of panic squeezing your chest, and your heart lodges in your throat, hammering wildly. 

Before you can say anything, however, he speaks first, shattering the pregnant silence, and his voice is an incredibly, deceptively soft whisper, like he's on the verge of breaking down. 

"How do you perceive my eyes as sad?"

His cobalt gaze is steady and hard- unlike the barely concealed tremors in his voice, and it pierces right through you, and as you try your very best not to shrink and fidget under the heavy weight of his gaze, you get washed by a sudden, strange sensation that feels odd in the most strangest of ways- like he's peering right into your soul. 

(But despite the firmness in his stare, you see the minute shifts, see the way he falters, the smallest of breaths hitching in his chest, the slight widening of those powder blue eyes, the edges of darkness licking at his vision. Honestly, it's tragic, in a sense, because it's like looking into a shattered mirror and seeing what had once been yourself.) 

Your heart stutters and throttles in your heaving chest, and you swallow thickly, unsure as to how to answer properly, feeling as though you're treading on very thin ice. It doesn't feel like he’s going to hurt you, however. More like how you were going to hurt him, instead. 

You're seized by a sudden melancholy, somber feeling, and you feel the embarrassment ebbing away as you meet the crystal blue of his gaze, and you feel like you're sharing something of a very private, intimate moment, despite both of you barely knowing each other at all.

You decide not to lie. This moment feels too intimate, too precious for you to do so. 

The truth is heavy and bittersweet on your tongue as you voice it aloud, and there's still a bashfulness in the way you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you reply, cheeks flooding with crimson. (You're pretty sure you resemble nothing short of a very red tomato at this point.)

There's a note of strength, a wavering finality in your tone, however- one that leaves no room for argument. 

"You- your eyes looked sad. And I- I know it's probably offensive and probably not my place, but, um, you look like someone that's normally really happy and bright, but- just, just very tired right now. Like you're afraid and broken and you want to be helped, but there's no-one for you to call out for… "

And indeed, despite the genuine friendliness and kindness and care that's thinly veiled behind the tire brimming in the ocean blue of his gaze, he has the saddest eyes you've ever seen- like he's breathed the air of war, tasted the bitterness of death and rot- like he's lost too many people and he's afraid and too broken to lose anymore. 

(Like he's been strong for too long.) 

(There's something unsaid crossing your tongue, and despite the fact that you don't speak it out loud, you know the both of you can hear it's silent voice- because you're both survivors, and you both can recognize and understand each other's pain, hear the desperation better than anyone else ever will. 

"I know that look, because I've been there before- in that dark, dreary place you're in right now.") 

When you finally muster enough strength to raise your heavy gaze and meet his blistering stare (it's softened considerably), there's a pearlescent liquid collecting at the corners of his eyes, something raw and painful and filled with pure, unadulterated hurt smoldering in his eyes, and it makes your own eyes water with white-hot emotion.

(Because you know exactly how this feels- know how much relief and liberation fills you when someone recognizes your torment and offers help- no matter how meager it is, when your cracks are allowed to mend, when the agony lessens even if it is only by the mercy of some kind words and a gentle smile.)

And as the late evening light of the dying sun spills through the windows, the filter of waning sunlight silhouettes his sharp, lanky (not-so-stiff) profile in spools of molten gold and honey, highlighting the honeycomb color of his wild, wild mane of a hair, and his eyes, those bright, bright sapphire hues gleam like freshly cut gemstones, forget-me-not blues so very vivid and glimmering with a renewed  color and life that wasn't there before. 

He's smiling through the tears as he lifts a palm to rub at the corners of his eyes, and it's a tender, soft sort of smile, not quite as bright and cheerful as he might've wanted it to be, all sweet and appreciative and gentle as the corners of his eyes crease into half-moons with the force of it. 

(And your heart skips a beat as it lurches forward in your chest, and your breath halts, sitting still in your lungs, and your eyes widen, because his smile is so, so beautiful.) 

You suddenly realize that nobody else has noticed his pain, tried to heal his hurt the way you have, and the revelation makes your own heart ache for him in the most bittersweetest of ways, and you welcome the pain that follows. 

"And the part- the part where you said I'd make a good hero?" 

He asks, and there's sort of a hesitation- a tone of rippling hope and childish innocence in his voice that would make anyone buckle at the knees and coo at him, and you feel your cheeks flush scarlet once again. Had you mentioned that part out loud too? Gosh, you're really awkward, aren't you?

His eyes are blue, and they're brimming with a sort of childish inquisition and the rim of tears and hope that you absolutely cannot bear to crush. 

So- bearing your broadest, most brightest grin, you answer honestly, and you can't help but love the way those deep forget-me-not blues seem to light up from the inside out. 

"I fully believe it."

{BONUS}:-

(And maybe, you'll never learn the secret that the man you would come to know as Toshinori Yagi, and eventually to your best friend and then to your lover, was really the Number One Hero All Might himself, and that on that day, and many days after that, you would be his hero- the person who'd seen him at his lowest and help him climb back onto his feet once again.) 

FIN - 

#toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x you #Toshinori yagi x y/n #All might #Small might #All might x reader #Reader x Toshinori yagi #Reader x all might #bnha x reader #My hero academia #Mha #Ooc all might #A sprinkle of angst and fluff #Mainly fluff #boku no academia #Writermaskwrites #I'm back Tumblr #I hope my followers see this #New writing style

[writermask-0807]

FORBIDDEN FRUIT PART TWO - TEACHER GAKUHO ASANO X STUDENT READER

A/n: Heyyy, I'm baaackkkk. How long's it been? A month? Two?? Before u come at me with the pitchforks and knives, just know that I'm already dead. So, as you can see, I did a terribly horrible job in fulfilling the request of a dear, beloved follower, even tho I did try my best. And my sincerest of apologies for finally updating it so late. I tried so many versions before i finally settled on this one. And this isn't perfect either, but I drove all of my efforts in it, so hope u like! But before u read, just know that multiple words will be reused cus my vocabulary is painfully short, and English is my second language, sorry 😭. Also, this is jot finished yet, cuz I broke it into parts, p cus it was wayyy too long. And I'm already working on the next part, and hopefully, I'll update soon. And someone, please, PLEASE, TELL ME HOW TO GET ITA,ICS BCUS FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CANNOT FIND ANY!!!!

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, OOC Gakuho, mentions of violence, and lots and lootsss of things here that don't make no sense. You'll understand once u read.

Edit: also, I did try my best to make the reader as innocent as I could.

Hope you enjoy!!!

THE tentative graze of his smooth, alabaster skin was warm and comforting against your blanching flesh, slim, slender digits coiling delicately around your (admittedly much smaller) wrist in a cautious hold, the soft pad of his thumb unconsciously stroking your sallow flesh as he studied the darkening bruise, and his thumb came to innocently rest at your racing pulse, veiled by the ghostly sheet of white that was your paling skin.

Gaunt, pale fingertips were feather-light and delicate as they splayed across your wrist, feeling the goose-flesh hum across your sensitive skin at his soft, probing touch, a ghosting kiss of marble against porcelain, as the tips of his searching fingers fluttered and brushed fleetingly, cautiously, against your blemished skin, gently tracing the outline of the purpling bruise garlanding your wrist, and snaking up your arm in dark, painful whorls of unhealthy, mottled blue. The print of harsh hands against the fragile, tainted porcelain of your flesh was still fresh with the remnant of the searing agony that'd accompanied it, the irritated flesh raw and sore and aching, even under the ginger curl of his careful fingers.

You lowered your head, ashamed, and unable to meet the smouldering garnet of his questioning gaze, your free hand clenching into a whitening fist as you clutched the flimsy fabric of your skirt, a desperate prayer for courage on your laboring breath and quivering lips, as your throat clenched, and heart stuttered in protest within your tightening chest. You absolutely could not cry in front of him, could not show any signs of weakness, not when you were sure he was also suffering the same cruel fate you'd been subjected to. Not now, not ever. But even as you repeatedly chanted this mantra again and again in your mind, your vision blurred with the prickles of the pearlescent liquid. You willed the accursed tears to stop, but they didn't, only accumulating in a hazy fog misting your glittering e/c orbs.

{You were suddenly thankful that the tousled, unkempt strands of your h/c-shaded hair fell down with your stooping chin and hunched shoulders, veiling the misery and the hurt, and the bright glimmer of unshed tears in your regretful eyes.}

Gakuho was silent as he regarded your petite, trembling form coolly, rich magenta optics glittering with a cold fury, and swirling with an explosion of scarlet that held an uncanny resemblance to freshly spilt blood, but his will hung thick and heavy in the gloom of the darkening atmosphere, and the delicate, tangled strings of unsaid questions and words threaded unspoken, tangible in the palpable tension that clouded the air. Your heart lodged in your throat, strangling the breath out of you, your rapid heartbeat and erratic breathing thundering a chaotic din in your ears, deafening you with its consistent, roaring hammer, as your heart rattled against your ribcage, threatening to break the bones, and escape its domain.

And although you couldn't meet the hot burn of his crimson gaze, you could feel it. The violet glare of his deceptively calm, amethyst orbs scorched your flesh with a white-hot intensity, and the bizarre sensation of those celestial hues peering deep into the depths of your very soul grew more and more prominent with the bleeding second, those smouldering, unfathomable orbs sifting with a luminescent galaxy of dying stars as he fixed you with a hollow, expressionless stare.

You felt naked underneath the weight of his fierce, cosmic gaze, every secret and every lie laid bare and untouched for him to toy with, almost as though the cool hyacinth of his eyes melted your flesh and peeled away what was left of the taut sinews, revealing the concealed, polished core, the very fibers that threaded the fabric of your existence, latching onto your flesh like a tight second skin, unbearably heavy and unwavering, drilling holes into the bone of your skull, unrelenting.

And yet still, he did not speak.

The silence was suffocating, torturous, as it tormented you with dark thoughts and withering whispers. Each and every doubt that'd ever crossed your thoughts were overlapping now, distorted and satanic as they wormed their way into your head, a whirl of dark emotions pulsing through your blood like a frigid poison, freezing you from the inside out, and swarming your mind with nothing but white noise and unprecedented fear. And though you couldn't bear to meet the dark mauve of his eyes, you knew Gakuho's sharp features had been smoothed out to present a glacial expression, sharp, sloping features harsh with a cold indifference, bereft of any emotion, and it scared you. Was he angry at you? Was he disappointed? Was he -

Each of these negative thoughts only served to worsen your anxiety as it rippled and contorted restlessly through your consciousness, shifting what felt like shards of broken glass in the empty cavity that was your chest, a pain pulsating and writhing and aching like a thing alive, something raw and vulnerable and distraught, something terribly, awfully human.

And it hurt. God, it hurt more than you were able to convey, this feeling of overpowering helplessness, this wild desperation to cherish, and be cherished, to protect, and be protected, to love and be loved…

You tried to quell the bitter sting of uncontrollable tears that followed this train of thought, obstinately willing them to stop as they dampened the corners of your eyes, and clouded your wavering, unsteady vision with a storm of unshed tears, your lustrous e/c hues boiling with the burning heat of your scalding tears, and failed miserably, as the pearlescent liquid carved a hot, salty stream of tears down your flushed cheeks, dripping down your nose as you lowered your head, desperately trying to hide them.

You stifled the sob that threatened to tear through your throat and shake your quivering frame, feeling your throat burn and heart contrict within your squeezing chest, the agonizing sensation of your lungs feeling as though they'd been doused in liquid fire accompanied by the stuttering beats of your heart, as you did so.

itwasallyourfaultallyOuRFaUltYOURFAULTYOURFAULT - !

All your fault that you had been willing to offer your naive, childish heart to a man who could easily crush it, but who instead cradled it lovingly in the broad cusp of his palms, your fault that you'd allowed him to steal your first kiss, your first love, your fault that you welcomed him with open arms despite the strong command of darkness that followed in its wake. Your fault, that you chose to bear the brunt of the chaos you'd known would be inevitable to follow next, your fault for bearing the harsh words and devious whispers, your fault for hiding the bruises that they scarred you with. Your fault for muddying his name and reputation, for staining what'd once been pristine white, your fault for being selfish, your fault for letting the rumors spark and remaining ignorant of how fast they spread. Your fault for thinking that you would've been able to remain strong, and yet here you were, crumbling into little pieces in front of your partner, when he hadn't even spoken.

You were barely able to register the dull ache throbbing in your clenched fist, as you crumpled fistfuls of your skirt in your tightening grasp, the thin, sharp edges of your nails digging deep into the flesh of your palm as you did so, ignoring the burning sting of your bruise as it rekindled back to life with a vicious vengeance.

You felt out of touch with reality, detached from the plane of existence, suspended in a world of frozen time that you'd somehow fabricated inside your mind, far away from the reaches of those who'd hurt you, but the imaginative safe haven was delicate and fragile enough that you felt the pain you were inflicting upon yourself. The vivid intensity of the painful shifting inside your chest, the spreading ache in your whitening knuckles, the delicate weight of each ragged breath escaping your lungs in greedy gulps for burning air, and heaving your chest, shallow and desperate, the steady trickles of hot, salty tears soaking the porcelain of your cheeks.

And then, the flutter of your tear-bejewelled lashes retreated the white of your skin as your eyes flew open, widening in surprise, -(you hadn't even realized that you'd squeezed them shut, hadn't realized that you'd failed to keep those damn tears at bay)- as the familiar warmth of his gentle embrace cocooned your petite frame, welcoming and comforting, placing an abrupt halt to your tearful blabbering -(that you'd unknowingly cried out loud)-.

The broad flat of his palm coming to rest at your rigid spine coaxed you into that familiar comfort of his soft hug, as he lifted you with ease, settling you comfortably between his splayed thighs, a gentle tug drawing you closer to him, the older male's slender, broad frame dwarfing your much smaller form as he pressed himself against you, exchanging slow, deep breaths that mingled with your own wistful half-sighs, his calming inhales a delicate weight of warmth ghosting the sallow flesh of your collarbone, the brushes of his ember-colored hair tickling your supple flesh in a teasing graze as he leaned down, mouth pressing a tender, chaste kiss to the base of your neck, hoping to heal the hurt, soft lips silky and tender against your flesh. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat wetly, heart stuttering, dimming e/c hues widening, heat blooming across your cheeks despite the shimmer of tears and relief glistening in your eyes.

His grasp was gentle as he held your hand in his own, much larger one, cautious of your wound even in that moment of innocent intimacy, as his gaunt fingers intertwined with your own in a meaningful embrace. His lips were ginger and gentle, softer than sin as he worked his way, trailing a set of butterfly-kisses down your inner wrist, and you whimpered - not at the sharp sting of the purpling bruise that bristled defiantly under his healing touch, but at the care and love he showered you with - knowing you didn't deserve something so fickle and good as this, when all you'd done was cry and ruin everything.

Your bruise lying forgotten, and unshed tears ceasing their crystalline flow, the remnants heavy on your fluttering lashes, you curled into the tenderness of his gentle touch as he cupped your face, thumb brushing away the glistening trail of tears against the pale white of your flesh, catching a few of the glittering ice-crystals as he soothed them away.

"It isn't your fault. It was never your fault." Gakuho finally spoke, and his voice was nothing more than a smooth, sultry caress of thin, whispering satin and rich, dark velvet as it tumbled past his lips in a soft, private voice, trailing a velvety kiss down your spine, warming you from the inside out as it chased away the forever-present chill in your bones, honeyed tones thick and raw with genuine emotion - emotion he usually guarded and never bothered to show, and suddenly, this quiet, simple affirmation from him was enough, enough to satiate the hunger twisting and boiling your insides, enough to ease the ache plaguing your mind and the world-weariness clinging to your bones, enough for you to finally feel lighter, freer.

Large, gentle fingertips cupped your jaw tenderly, urging your gaze upwards, fingers delicate against the pulse that hammered violrntly in your neck as your eyes met. And his eyes, those vivid, luminous orbs that bled garnet with the glitter of stardust, aglow with the fervent gleam of suppressed, quiet rage and the dusty brilliance of the cosmos, softened with unadulterated sincerity as your hot gazes collided, darkening cosmic hues glimmering with a tide of stars as the rich magenta of his eyes glistened warmly, both affectionate and fond as he regarded your petite frame with the stirrings of guilt, and a gentle, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The amethyst of his luminescent, galactic orbs conveyed more than words ever would, as the rich hyacinth of his eyes melted into a soft, revering look, raw and thick with a nebulous swirl of abstract emotion - emotion you normally would've thought he wasn't capable of expressing- the heavy weight of gnawing regret and worry, and the honest sincerity, and the forbidden, tender love that you both shared with each and every exchanged breath and stolen kiss, all held simultaneously in his smouldering gaze, and all of them, reserved for you, and only. The sheer gravity and power and the belief he held within his emotions stifled you, sending your mind reeling and eyes brimming with tears that had no right to be there.

You felt the familiar flutter return to your chest and soaring heart, buzzing restlessly like a hummingbird and alive with pure, unfiltered ecstasy - though from the sheer amount of relief or joy that overwhelmed you, you couldn't tell.

Your shoulders sagging in resigned defeat and relief, you wordlessly slumped against him, your frame melting against him, as you threw an arm around the nape of his neck to anchor yourself deeper against him, feeling thoroughly drained, as if all the energy had been sucked out of you, limbs hanging limp as you burrowed deeper into the warmth of his embrace, supporting your weight against his sturdy, lithe frame, and Gakuho snaked a protective arm around your waist, pressing your bodies together in response. He brought a gentle palm to caress the back of your head, gaunt digits weaving a calming rhythm through the rich locks of e/c hair, washing your worries away, strong arms cradling you delicately, almost as though he feared you'd shatter at the slightest of touches, like the porcelain doll you appeared to be, fragile. And you felt just that, a marionette with cut strings, no longer forcing you to dance to the tune of your nearing doom, but now you laid in a broken, sorry heap, unable to draw strength nor courage, almost as though you were slowly crumbling from within, withering like a rose crushed beneath the first frost.

Now that all the tension and pressure had fled its unbearably heavy perch on your drooping shoulders, you felt the fatigue plaguing your bones and twisting your heavy soul in a hollow, bitter ache return with full force, slamming you with the stifling force of a white-hot rod, wrestling the breath out of you, the stress of all the previous weeks' torture finally taking its toll on you. Your body suddenly felt heavier than it had ever had as you slouched against the older male, a sharp jolt of pain splitting the arch of your spine apart as the stuttering of your bones got replaced by something much darker, much heavier. The world-weariness that'd strung itself into the fabric of your existence seemed to weigh more prominently than before, a searing brand claiming mark on you once more, and you breathed a tired sigh, eyelids slowly fluttering, exhaustion seeping a lethargic sensation into the very pores of your existence.

And there, nestled in the arms of your lover, and cocooned in the firm safety of his loving embrace, you were suddenly plunged into a state of quiet, a world of weary calm where you could feel the delicate weight of every shallow, exchanged breath, heat and warmth and scent mingling, the soft caress of flesh against flesh, the delicate brushes of lips against lips, the steady beating of your heart echoing with his, the twine of his nimble fingers laced with yours, the rush of red flowing beneath your flesh…

And suddenly, something else shifted inside your chest, a different emotion pulling at your heartstrings, a slow-burning flame of determination that had you burrowing further into him in the sudden upsurge of courage, and adrenaline pumping wildly through your veins.

"Gakuho…"

You'd spoken up before you realized what you were doing, and for some unfathomable reason, you felt more bolder than you'd ever been, reckless, even, when you would've usually shriveled underneath his gaze, too timid to voice out your thoughts. His name was foreign on your lips, an exotic word tasting rich and ambrosial on your tongue, as you whispered his name in utterance for perhaps the very first time, (you really needed to stop calling him 'Sensei'), and you felt your partner hum in reply as he hastened to mask his surprise, a throaty and rich rumble that vibrated within his chest, tickling your own skin with goosebumps until you felt a silly smile bloom at the sheer absurdity of it all, -(because here you where, crying your heart out one moment and dazed by his very presence the next)- intoxicated by the overwhelmingly delicious fragrance of spice and crushed hyacinths he naturally secreted, and drunk on the sudden boldness your move had prompted, the sunny grin highlighting your cheekbones, as your lips glossed into your signature bright, carefree beam, despite the ache forming in your shoulder blades, and the tiredness that made your eyes flutter with drowsiness.

You must've looked quite the sight, with eyes heavy with undeterred sleep, arms limp with lack of energy haphazardly thrown around his torso for support, and that stupid, fathomlessly happy smile tugging at your mouth, because there was that warm, playful glint in his plum optics again as they bled carmine, illuminated by the dying light of the weeping dusk beyond the window. It only made you smile wider, knowing that all the torment you'd suffered, all the harsh words and violating touches, they were all worth it. Worth this, worth him.

Gakuho tipped your head back, fingers once again grazing your pulse as he took your chin in his forefinger and thumb, allowing you to lock gazes as your tearless, gentle opals of swirling e/c collided with the dusty hues of star-strewn dusk, amusement and wicked mirth dancing in the pools of rich hyacinth and darkening muave, cosmic-lidded and exotic in their magnificent, violet glory as his lips curved into a foxy smirk.

"Oh? And what has my dearest so pleased?" The honeyed tones were back, spilling from his lips like the richest of wines and the most luxurious of dark velvets and silks, his amusement so tangible that you could taste it, light voice shifting the undercurrents of the tense atmosphere from before.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the endearment, and you faltered, throat suddenly dry as he prompted you to speak, feeling that surge of boldness in which you'd spoken his name ebb away, leaving you to fend for yourself. "I-..." The words withered on your tongue, meek voice wilting at the back of your throat, and you felt as though your mind was swept clean, blank and unthinking. You swallowed thickly, unconsciously crumpling fistfuls of his suit in your tightening grasp as you averted your gaze from his own curious one, cheeks flaming crimson in embarrassment at both your own stupidity and what you were about to do.

You could practically feel the arch of his sleek, perfectly manicured brow furrow with question, even with your eyes focused on the lavish shade of deep wine colouring his attire, and you knew him well enough to know that that wicked, silver smirk did not leave those irresistibly plump lips, only broadening until it was all sharp teeth with not-really-nice intentions, showing you that he had caught onto something. Him and his perceptiveness was going to be the death of you…

"Hm? I didn't quite catch that…"

Gakuho crooned softly, sultry, honeyed voice dripping like silk butter and bewitched, molten glass from cold lips, dark velvet falling in a soft, reverent murmur, alluring magenta hues painted crimson by rich, liquid sangria, blood-drenched, and moon-kissed, and sparkling with wicked mischief and stardust as he leaned in closer, the warm heat of his breath fanning gently across your porcelain skin, and you drew in a sharp intake of breath, heart swelling and thumping loudly underneath your ribs, as the careful flutter of his curled lips brushed delicately past your ear, skimming teasingly light across your skin, slowly, oh so achingly slow, deliberately fooling you into thinking he was about about capture your lips, as your eyes fluttered shut in eager compliance, before he finally pressed a tender, dove's kiss to your throbbing temple, as though to alleviate the ache he somehow knew was plaguing there.

The look on his face was frustratingly smug as he pulled back, the corners of his mouth drawing upwards in a show of amusement as he assessed your shy, embarrassed state; the wobble in your irresistibly soft, pink, dewy lips, the eruption of scarlet dusting your rosy cheeks darkening, the shudder tickling your supple, tender flesh, the hunch of your arched, stiff spine, the bite of your fingers tightening into the taut muscle of his shoulder in its vice-like grip as you held onto him for support, the innocent yearning simmering rich and hot in your averted, meek gaze…

And all for a chaste, teasing kiss, and not even graced on the lips…

And this time, he couldn't cloak the shimmer of molten delight that twinkled garnet and delicious in the amethyst of his eyes. You were simply too adorable for him him not tease, too innocent, and too gullible to be stained by the horrors of the world, the harsh truths of reality, and he'd be damned if he would let some rumors spoil your purity. The coil of anger he'd carefully hidden from you clenched tightly within his chest at this dark thought, a kindling flame of rage slowly forming, threatening to consume him to his very roots, surging like molten lava through his veins, scalding rage flooding the very essence of his being, the hot simmer of his boiling wrath pulsing like poison beneath his unblemished flesh, the steady and rapid flow of undiluted, raw power. He was ready to unleash all hell loose upon that filthy creature, when he would be able to lay his hands on it.

But first, he needed to attend to you first. Poor, innocent, naive, sweet you. After all, you came first before anything else. Smoothing out his scathing expression into that teasing smile once more, he turned his attention on you. He didn't have to try hard for the false smirk to appear genuine, one glance at your heavy blush and trembling form and the hidden, secret pout you stole away from him, and knowing that he was the cause for it, he didn't have to fake the twist of the smirk dancing on his lips.

You felt color rush to your cheeks, heat exploding in a burst of blooming crimson, as you lowered your flustered gaze to the broad, lean flat of his chest, -(that somehow rippled with the swell of concealed, defined muscles)-, unable to meet the rich, bleeding hyacinth of his eyes, and the victoriously sly, twisting smirk perched prettily on his lips, your racing heart and ringing pulse thudding a symphony in your skull as you worried your lip, biting back the childish pout that'd threatened to tilt your lips.

Rekindled shudders licked at your creamy flesh with a renewed vehemence, as the tips of his gaunt, slender fingers gently pressed into the taut muscle of your shoulder blade, easing the knots of tension that had formed there, trailing slowly, deliberately, down the shuddering arch of your spine, tender touches spilling like raw silk over glass, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your uniform and mingling with yours as he perched his broad palm at the cusp of your stiff, rigid spine, and you could feel the warmth of his skin all too well, along with his body heat with how closely you were pressed together, and it made your head feel fuzzy and light, as he drew you closer, closer still, that maddeningly, stupidly smug smirk curling his lips in pure delight, looking utterly satisfied as a cat with a bowl of cream, and you knew, despite all your futile attempts, he'd managed to catch a glimpse of your expression, making you redden in embarrassment, your fingers digging into the lush, rich fabric of his shirt.

You felt the rumble of his chuckle before you heard it, a pleasantly rich and deep timbre bubbling up in his chest, a mirthful breath of quiet laughter that shook the sturdy broadness of his shoulders, and tickled your supple flesh, making your cheeks ignite in a violent blush and punch the air from your lungs, and you vaguely wondered if you were going mad, sanity slipping from you just as easily words did in his presence.

"Honestly, you're so adorable, Y/N. I simply can't help myself." Gakuho cooed, tone thick and colored with warm amusement, violet hues glittering with an impossibly soft, tender emotion that made your chest squeeze, and heart flutter, for electricity to ripple through your veins, and for the brittle diamonds of tears to once again to gather in the lids of your eyes, though this time, these tears were not of anguish or even despair. These tears, shimmering bright and pearlescent in the waning sun's light, were of happiness, of relief. Of unadulterated, unconditional love, that his eyes mirrored.

Seeing him like this, so carefree and gentle and uncaring, the very picture of domesticity despite you both being worlds apart, and knowing that it was a privilege that only you got to see, made you wonder if it was going to last forever. If all the pain and chaos you suffered was worth it this- whatever this was, whatever the both of you shared right now, if this relationship was going to be as fickle, as ephemeral as it felt to you, and the realization made something painful shift inside your chest, feeling as though shards of broken glass were sifting a writhing, roiling mass beneath your flesh.

But as bittersweet as this dawning realization was, forbidden fruit perhaps always did taste the best, despite the sour aftertaste that accompanied it, burning bitter on the tip of your tongue. Despite the hurt that came, the bitter consequences of indulging in the forbidden, in the end, you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

And for once, it didn't feel wrong, this precious intimacy, this togetherness, even though it should have, and the niggling sense of guilt worming its way into your head was immediately forgotten, as you relished in the warmth of his hug, the feel of his marble flesh against the fragile porcelain of yours, the steady protection of his presence, and the sense of belonging that the press of your bodies intertwined in a soft embrace elicited from you, the silky caress of his voice breathing along your skin, the heat of his minty, fresh breath licking your flesh, the brushes of his ember-colored hair tickling you as he leaned down, foreheads nearly touching in a gesture of gentle affection, even though this- this relationship that you both shared was illegitimate, wrong by social standards.

The ripple of surprise and worry cross his pale, flawless features et your unexpected reaction was almost imperceptible, but you managed to catch a glimpse of the shock painting his plum hues with the rich shade of dripping sangria, through the haze of your tears clouding your vision, before he managed to regain his composure, concealing the cracks in the fragile glass of his mask, but the playful smirk had fled the full, sensous velvet of his lips.

"What's wrong?" A soft, velvety murmur ripe with worry fell from honeyed lips, his broad palm coming to tenderly caress your cheek as he lifted your watery gaze to meet his own, and the genuine, guarded concern marring the milky, uncut marble of his sharp features, and stitching his eyebrows together in a frown had you hastening to assure him, a wobbly smile shaping your plump lips, despite the onslaught of tears draining hot and salty down your flushed cheeks.

"I-it's nothing! I'm just… I'm just happy. Really, really happy." You finally admitted, sniffling a little as your fists unconsciously curled tighter around his torso, and though your heart stuttered uncertainly underneath your ribcage, your words were genuine. The whirl of kaleidoscopic, abstract emotions surging through your veins felt real, genuine enough for you to finally confess to him, voice quiet and gaze timid, although the sheer impact the feelings of insecurity and embarrassment that followed had the uncontrollable, white-hot liquid sting your eyes bitterly again, as you gnawed at your bottom lip, cheeks dusted by a delicate shade primrose.

God, you hated feeling like this. You hated the pour of tears spilling down your cheeks, the hurt in your chest and the ache plaguing your very bones, the fatigue weighing on you, the vulnerability that he unknowingly exposed you to, and you hated the agonizing pain that loving him brought on you, and yet you couldn't stop. You didn't want to stop. You had fallen in too deep for you to wade back up.

And then, there it was again, that beautiful, gentle smile tugging at his mouth again, the one that had your heart malfunctioning in your chest, not the usual teasing, mischievous smirk, but a ghost of a tender, genuine smile playing on his lips, the one that spoke volumes despite being nothing more than a soft upturn, an imperceptible twitch of lips. The one that pulled at your heartstrings, filled with understanding, and consoling you with words that remained unspoken, hovering slight and unsaid on his tongue, and it only made you cry harder, moisture bubbling angry and wet on the edge of your vision, streaking down in thick rivulets down your cheeks, and his molten gaze softened as he peered down at your lustrous e/c hues, doe eyes enlarged by the glaze of tears pooling in them.

Gakuho leaned down, -(even in this position, his height still towered over your own, an unfair advantage)- until your foreheads were pressed together, arms coiling tighter around your petite form as he pressed himself closer to you to steady your trembling, and without warning, his lips descended on yours.

And not unlike your first kiss shared with him, his mouth captured yours, guiding your lips with a maturity that you were beginning to grasp, dripping with honey and the rich taste of ripe, thick wine that intoxicated you, mixing with the salt of your forlorn tears, as his lips moved against yours in a perfected synchrony, an effortless dance without practice, leaving you feeling dazed as you gripped his shoulder for support, as his mouth shifted and moulded against yours in a perfect, sculpted fit, the silken, rich velvet of his full lips brushing against yours in a tender, chaste kiss, slow and blissful as it melted all your worries away. And although it wasn't nearly as passionate as your previous, secret endeavors, and rather a fleeting, soft brushing of lips meant as a comforting consolation, a dove's kiss and the flutter of powdery wings, it left you feeling as though you'd been blessed by summer's warm kiss, leaving your heart soaring, as it swelled and thumped wildly underneath your ribs, warming in an explosion of happiness and relief.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, unfurling like a thousand blooms still fresh with the remnants of Winter's presence, as he gently pulled away, thumb grazing your jaw affectionately, brushing fleetingly, tenderly across the plump swell of your bottom lip, before leaning in again and pressing a delicate, gentle peck on your quivering lips, shifting your marred arm in his ginger grasp before rewarding you with your scarred skin with a soft, careful kiss.

"I'm happy, as well. More than you could ever imagine." He murmured against your flesh, voice soft, gently so as you breathed a shaky sigh, shuddering against him, as you burrowed deeper into his warmth, your body flush against his, arms wound around each other in a meaningful embrace, slow, calm breaths exchanged with the rise and fall of your shoulders, and scents mingling, moulding into one.

Perhaps he didn't know how much the effect his steadying words had on you, but you felt it more intimately than his sharp perception ever would. The quake in your shoulders, the radiant smile sunnily carving your lips, the misty sheen of unshed tears lurking in the lids of your eyes, clinging onto your lashes, the heavy fatigue that suddenly seemed to ease, taut muscles relaxing into his touch, as you blew out a soft breath, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and the sharp jut of his chin came to rest on the crown of your head, palm pressed against the column of your spine as he eased you into his towering form, hearts fluttering in unison, as he drew sensous circles on your back with the gaunt tips of his fingers.

And as ethereal and fragile as your tilted world appeared to be, there, nestled comfortably in the welcoming warmth of his consoling embrace, cocooned in the strong, steady arms of your partner, you finally felt content, all the worries and doubts that'd ever plagued you simply melting away, and for once, nothing mattered in those precious, treasured moments. There was just you and him, and the harsh, embittered truth of reality faded away, all the pain and the hurt ceasing to exist, his status as your teacher and you his student no longer looming over you like dark clouds, heavy with the threat of pouring rain.

Even if this wouldn't last, you would treasure every precious, bleeding second, because nothing tasted sweeter than forbidden fruit, despite the bittersweet aftertaste it left in your mouth.

#Gakuho Asano x reader #reader x Gakuho Asano #teacher Gakuho x student reader #teacher/student #shy reader #assassination classroom #fluff with a sprinkle of angst #soft Gakuho #OOC Gakuho #idk how to tag this shi #Writermaskwrites