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“Hey, Hara, I don’t think I like basketball anymore.”

Yamazaki stares at his hands, at callused fingers and grazed knuckles, as Hara leans over to kiss his forehead. The other teenager’s eyes are fixed on his phone. He’s playing some monster-killing app; the little hero figure that Hara’s controlling is swinging his sword right into the beast’s chest.

“I think I might quit the team,” continues Yamazaki.

Hara shifts. It’s a slight movement, barely even a change in position, and yet, suddenly, Yamazaki feels like the contact of their bare elbows is burning into his bone. It’s never good when Hara’s silent; his quiet is like the bubbling of milk on a fire, you never know when it’s going to spill over.

(And Yamazaki knows Hara knows that he knows that. It’s one of the game’s several unspoken rules.) 

“You can’t quit though. You’d have nothing without basketball. It’s the only thing you’re mildly good at,” replies Hara, in an unaffected tone, as blood spurts out of the monster on his phone screen. “Anyway, Hanamiya wouldn’t let me keep seeing you if you quit.”

Yamazaki knows full well that even the captain doesn’t have that kind of power over Hara.

Turning his head, Hara smiles, nuzzles Yamazaki’s cheek with his nose. “So you’d be completely alone. And you don’t want to be alone, do you, Hiroshi?

Yamazaki recognises this is all just part of Hara’s games. He recognises Hara doesn’t actually care that much about basketball - that Hara’s interest in the sport is almost entirely linked to the feeling of crushing an opponent, both literally and otherwise - and he’d like to think Hara cares more for him than for Hanamiya too. Hypothetically, Yamazaki could leave the team today. Maybe, even leave Hara behind. Find some new friends, a new lover. 

But, every time Yamazaki’s thoughts start falling into that childishly optimistic stream, he remembers it’s too late for him now. He’s been tainted with the dense black sin of the team. He’s already one of the villains. 

Nor does he have the chance for redemption or a second life; those are concepts only found in games. (At least, that’s what Hara says - and maybe that’s why they enjoy their evenings playing fighting games together, where Hara can cut Yamazaki down over and over again, where Yamazaki can bleed out but never quite die.)

And, in the words of his companion, Hara’s the only one who’ll stay with him regardless of what he’s done. He’s the only one whose fingers will interlink with Yamazaki’s, and whose teeth will sink down into his neck, punishing him for his immorality, like a priest who judges and still forgives.

With that in mind, thinks Yamazaki (as he moves a little closer to Hara - whose body heat is violently hot - hiding his head behind Hara’s, so he can only see the now-dead monster on the screen from the corner of his eye), who can blame him for staying this long?  

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Hey, check out some of my works? I try my best to bring out the exact personalities of each character, so get off my shoulder if you don’t like my content.


音 – Angst

新 – Spice

読 – Fluff

来 – Headcannon

時 – Social Media AU

ま – Special Event




















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Head empty, only new to town Akashi leaning against a post supporting the patio on a western saloon and Furihata wearing a cowboy hat standing in the dirt road, rain falling down, puddles of mud, rain pours out of Furihata’s hat but they catch each other’s eyes and just stare for a moment. For a moment where they are both at their lowest and can see reflected in the other’s eyes an understanding, and a part of their souls reach across the space between them and flare in this connection, this peace-

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dhfiuseyghieaugh tysm ily reeeeee <33 been playing genshin nonstop to keep my sanity from my uni papers SEND HELP

Kise x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 2851

prompt list here

Note: we need more manga Kise, i repeat, we need more asshole Kise

»»————— ☼ —————««

How could this happen? How could he, the veteran of receiving female attention, be so careless?

He only saw you as an intrigue. A challenge. Perhaps a friend at the very most.

How did this happen?

Kise slightly grits his teeth before he quickly exhales, bringing his hand to rub out the tension in his neck. His mood had not gone unnoticed by his fans around him.

Ah, shit.

Ryōta!” one called out, her tone dripped in saccharine. “What’s wrong?

“Have you been pushing yourself lately?” another one chimes in.

“I can come with you to the infirmary… surely you’d have trouble!—”

Move—I asked first!

“H-hey! Quit being so snappy—!”


He instinctively sends a glare at the mob out of irritation but then stops himself to quickly etch a sweet smile of his own for them. No matter how much he hears these words of concern, he hears nothing but empty wind. Hanging around girls was supposed to be a fun pastime. A challenge. Nowadays, his mind doesn’t bother to register any of their names, their faces. All their voices that come out of their mouth have become constantly replayed recaps; their chatters have become equivalent to those of flocking pigeons. “Don’t worry, everyone! Basketball practice has just been tough, is all. You’re all so kind to worry for my health, though! Thank you!”

Squeals rang throughout the courtyard as they hung onto his every word. Predictable.

As he firmly separates himself away from the group and leaves off with a cheerful facade, he quickly turns around to make a break with a brisk walk. Where to, exactly? He doesn’t know, but anywhere that didn’t have people around would be godsend.

His mind always returns back to you. You, who he thought would be the cure to his social life, just as Aomine and Kuroko were to his life of sports. You, who respected his personal space. You, whom he had meaningful conversations with during breaks sometimes. You, who he felt like he can drop his facades around recently and just entirely be himself.

As cruel as it was, he once challenged himself to make you fall for him. A sick, twisted game that would cure his boredom and give him something to look forward to other than practice. Something to keep him on his toes throughout the beginning of high school. You, who wasn’t honestly that special, other than the fact you treated him differently, unlike other people. Hell, even the adults are wrapped around his finger. What’s not making you fall head over heels for him? His curiosity continues to grow exponentially the more he spends time with you; never once did it get satiated.

Was it his ego that you bruised up? Was it his competitiveness kicking in at the thought of experiencing a type of “defeat?” Was it the unsaid uncertainty in his heart that is currently panicking of the thought of entering a whole new territory with new emotions and thoughts?

There is nothing special about you. You were only a challenge. There is nothing special about you. Once he figures you out, your game, you would just be like everyone els—


“Ah, sorry! My bad, my bad! Are you alright? I’ve been a tad dizzy lately, here let me help you, oh…” As he rambles in a slight fluster, he immediately jumps back into his chivalrous side, immediately clasping a hand to help them up. Expecting to see another faceless individual, his eyes widened when his mind registered a pair of eyes staring inquisitively at him. Your eyes.

“Are you the same Ryōta I know?” you stifle a laugh. “Since when were you so quick to ever help me out without complaining my ear off?” When they say his first name, it has always sounded off, sickening even. He still could not comprehend why he, despite hating the sound of his first name rolling off of people’s tongues, insisted on you using his first name. Strangely, whenever you call him out so sincerely, he couldn’t help but always jerk back in genuine surprise at how… nice it felt.

He only let you use his first name to force a sense of closeness. This was only to accelerate the forming of a bond between the two of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more than a challenge. Nothing more than an asset to accomplish it.

But every time he has had these thoughts lately, his heart spiked with painful palpitations.

How did this happen?

His swirling thoughts halt when he feels your hand against his forehead. “You said you were dizzy earlier, right?” you said worriedly. “You don’t seem sick… have you been eating properly?”

You were tippy-toeing to try to reach his height, one hand grasping his shoulder for support while the other was feeling his temperature. And oh, you were so close.

This was a game you were playing, too, right? You must’ve known this entanglement was all just a challenge and you wanted to play along for the fun of it, right? But these thoughts quickly cease as you separate yourself from him to give him the usual physical distance.

What sort of game were you playing? Tug-of-war? Cat-and-mouse chase? Two can play at that game.

“Hey…” he looms over your figure, leaning closer to your face. “Maybe you’re the one making me dizzy, after all?” His sharp eyes search for any subtle signs you give off: your facial expressions, body language, your reactions.

“What?” Your eyes widen at his abrupt advance, worried eyes quickly turning into one of confusion as you scan Kise’s face for any other subtle signs of his own.

There was no way you could have good intentions. There was no way you could have genuine concern for him. There was no way you would be hanging around with him, unless you had some ulterior motives of your own.

After all, he chose to get to know you for the most selfish reason. How could he ever bring himself to tell you that this precarious friendship you two shared was built on the premise of deceit on his end?

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to see your reaction.” And with that, he ruffles your hair playfully before he continues to walk to his intended destination of the school infirmary.

“You’re definitely sick!” you call out, rushing to catch up to him. “You’re acting really strange!…” Your voice—he wishes he could tune it out just as easily as the rest, but you were right… he was acting strange. He couldn’t believe he can distinguish your features from amidst a sea of people. Your voice amidst a clutter of noises. Your warmth amidst all the sunlight, clothing, and body heat he’s ever felt. The same warmth encapsulating his own hand.

What sort of game were you playing?

“Here! Follow me,” you said, tugging his hand forward as you take the initiative to lead him. “If you’re sick, you shouldn’t be walking around alone. What if you collapse?”

What sort of game were you playing?… Was having the most scrunched-up brows and worried eyes part of the rules? He tightens his lips into a thin line at the sensation of his heartbeats again.

As you tug along his hand and lead him down the hallway, his mind drifts to the moments you two have shared for the past few weeks. When you bumped into him and succinctly apologized before excusing yourself… when he approached you constantly every chance he got during breaks to figure you out… when he saw you efficiently defending yourself against his dedicated fans… when you first approached him after he exited the lockers to congratulate him on a home game win before you turned to Kasamatsu to talk of club affairs with the council… when he first heard you actively cheering his name on the stands… when you inopportunely saw him weeping about Kaijo’s loss at the Winter Cup and successfully comforted him…

With each progression in his thoughts, his hand suddenly feels warmer against yours, his heart rate thumping faster, his eyes growing more out of focus as he gazes at your back, and then your intertwined hands. Maybe he really is sick.

“Are you alright?” you asked, turning to face him as you both keep walking. “We’re just about here.”

He says nothing as he keeps his face straight ahead. He doesn’t trust himself to keep it together after that slipup with his fans; messing up in front of you would be certainly disastrous.

“Is there anyone here?” you softly called out, tentatively sliding the doors open. There was no one, but they were probably on a lunch break before coming back soon. He hears you sigh before you tug him in completely into the room. “Sit here, and I’ll look for some ice packs, at least… I don’t know if that would work, though…”

As you let go of his hand to try to rummage through the drawers, his hand instinctively holds you tighter.


“Ryōta?…” you said. “Do you wanna lay down instead, I’ll look for something for you to—”

“… (y/n)-cchi, stay here.”

Shit. Kasamatsu was right: he needs to learn how to shut his godamn mouth.

“Ryōta,” you shyly mumble. “That was the first time you addressed me with -cchi at the end. Don’t you only use it with your old teammates?”

Shit… shit, shit, shit.

He can’t slip up, and he’s fucking up three times in a row? He’s losing his edge. There’s no way he’ll lose now… not when he’s come so far.

“… Do you know what you’re doing?” he exhales, dropping your hand to run his hands through his locks. “You’re driving me insane…”


“What games are you playing here, I swear to god—there’s no reason for you to care this much for me like this—”

“I do have a reason,” you replied, averting your eyes to feign looking for those ice packs. There you go again, acting coy… that’s what he chants to himself anyways.

“Wha?~ You’re keeping secrets from your friend, already?” he coos, trying to gain back the momentum. Yes, that’s right…you are only considered a friend. “It’s kind of cruel to bring it up but then decide to not divulge them, y’know?”

“It doesn’t take much human decency to worry and care for another,” you smile. “Even more so for a friend.”

You finally turn away to continue hunting for anything useful in the cabinets, while Kise silently watches you from his chair. Silence settles between the two of you.

“Y’know… I’ve been thinking,” you start, handing him a glass of water, a wet towel, and ice packs. “I don’t want for us… to be friends anymore.”

It took his entire self control to not jump from his chair to grab you and interrogate you into oblivion. But why? Did you realize his true intentions? Did you hate his guts after all? Did you accomplish your own objectives and deem this friendship no longer useful?

Why does he even care about any of this?

“You’re… joking, right?”

He really expected for you to burst into laughter and call it a prank or tease him about his unfiltered reaction at your words, but your eyes have now become determined and very serious.

You weren’t joking.

“Ryōta, I’ll just get this out of the way first things first, but I know that you only see me as some type of trophy to go after… for a while now.”

How did this happen?

“It’s just the way you look at me sometimes seems off,” you said. “It’s not obvious to others, but we’ve spent almost every day with each other for a while, so I’ve kinda noticed… Honestly, that only solidified my initial impressions of you being a complete asshole.”

Why does his heart feel like it’s going to shatter?

“But…” you continued. “Recently, you were just… different. You were still stupid, sure. But you’ve laughed so much more and supported me when I needed it most. I’ve never laughed this hard until I met you—you make me wheeze out the ugliest laughs, as I’m ashamed to admit. But I want to be able to support you too… like, it feels that this whole thing you’re trying to put up when you meet with other people… it must be exhausting, right? I know you first acted that way with me. I can understand and kind of relate to that, so you can always talk to me alone if you need an ear.”

“Why are you telling me that you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Kise flatly asks. “You’re clearly correct about everything about me. You could’ve just left a long while ago. Did you have to pretend to care, too? Go ahead, aren’t you going to gossip about this to everyone?”

What? No! I’m not done talking yet, idiot! I wasn’t pretending anything! Can you just stop projecting yourself onto me and listen up? Even though you’re such an asshole sometimes, er—all the time, the time we spent together has grown to be genuine, and I know you felt it too!… so well, I know you’ve heard these words so many times from other people, but…

I like you. That’s why I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. But I know you don’t reciprocate these back, so I just wanna tell you to get it off my chest… that’s all.”

He is absolutely stunned.

You’ve confessed to him, didn’t you? He got what he wanted. He won his little challenge. But why doesn’t he feel the adrenaline, the excitement, of it all like he normally would? His heart beated painfully erratically like how his team suffered a bittersweet loss at the games. Especially when you turned away to leave after you gauged his silence as rejection.

(y/n)-cchi! W-wait!” He fumbles to grab for the warmth of your hand again. “You just confessed, right? Don’t you have to hear what I say?”

You simply shrug in response, but nonetheless, you turned back around to face him and await his response.

What you didn’t expect though was for him to pull you into a tight embrace and put his head on your shoulder. He pours his innermost thoughts and his emotions out, your shoulder slightly muffling his words, but you still understand everything he had spilled. He finally apologizes for everything he’s done, reassuring you that you don’t have to forgive him, though you kept telling him that it wasn’t that big of a deal. He finally breaks away from you and hangs his head low and exhales. He finally lifts his head to make eye contact with you. His eyes burn with intensity and the usual confidence he bears, although you note the tinge of nervousness behind his pupils.

How did this happen? How did he ever grow so attached to you? And since when did he grow mature enough to concede his defeat?

I think I’m in love with you…” His words trail off, and his confidence disintegrates away when he realizes that he is no longer the receiving end of a confession.

… and that scares… the crap out of me.

“You think you’re in love with me?” You stare at him incredulously. Kise squirms uncomfortably under your scrutiny. He’ll admit it, it was the lamest reply anyone could’ve given. You honestly deserved better.

His thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly guffawed and slapped your hands to your mouth to try to stifle your hysteria.

“Hey! I spilled my entire heart to you, don’t just laugh… damnit, hey! It’s not that funny!…” he protests, but after unsuccessfully trying to get you to stop snickering, he sulks back into his chair and huffs with the reddest face.

“Ah… A+ for honesty, at least,” you breathed out. “I thought you were gonna be eloquent about this, since you’re used to this sorta stuff and all…”

“Shut it.”

Kise buries his head into his hands, but you gently pry them off in an attempt to see his embarrassed state.

“Were you really actually sick, though?~”

“Shut uuuup, alreadyyy.”

“I inherited this personality from you, y’know.”

Huh, it seems that you really do know how to be coy, after all.

“Can you two please see yourselves out? The infirmary is not a place to hold your secret rendezvous, especially with this inappropriate behavior.”

“(y/n)-cchi, run!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

In a hurry, Kise grabs hold of your hand and makes a break out the door, dragging you behind with the school nurse trailing far behind. Even if he suffered a loss once again, he still won the complete monopoly of you and your genuine care and warmth for him.

Was it really a loss, though? He doesn’t think much of it now that his head feels clear when he shares these moments with you.

He supposes he misjudged you when you were truly special after all. Déjà vu just hits him like a truck when he fondly thinks about his ex-mentor Kuroko, and how similar you are to him.

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Well… It all started as a simple “quick pose study” from a photo of two cute girls I found on pinterest and I got carried away somehow ^^’

Quite happy with the final result ‘cause I wanted to try different light flows and anatomy after experiencing a lot of struggle with it lately.

Warning : Years ago, when I wasn’t into that ship as much as I am now, I found some amazing MuraHimu arts on tumblr/pinterest which were obviously reposted and I never get to find the original artist. I’m 99% positive they are Japanese, cause some artworks feature texts but no signature… I checked pixiv and nothing came up. The way they were drawing them is mind-blowing, especially their profile so I feel a bit bad cause after using it as references it turns out the profile I drew are VERY similar, I tried to get out of this copycat thingy but ended up unhappy with the result. I’ll try to work hard in the following month to come with something more personal =< (I won’t display the following artworks because I do no wish to take part of this uncredited repost hell).


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before I thought that I was into psycopaths, but recently I realized that I wasn’t, I just was into daddy issues

for example:

akashi seijurou (KnB)

yue long (BF)

ferid bathory (OnS)

asano gakushuu (AC)

jin guanyao (MDZS)

dabi - or should we say todoroki touya mh? - (BNHA)*

and some honorable mentions who are not psycopaths, but have a good deal with daddy issues (or other issues):

todoroki shoto (BNHA)

kambe daisuke (FK:BU)

levi ackerman (SnK)

*this one is for @lisaiese ;)

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This is more so an idea I’ve had in case I were to create some sort of Demon/Angel/Supernatural AU for KnB, and of course, I made this “Demon AU” based on the seven deadly sins cuz it’s a common trope. Though if am being honest I was thinking about doing the opposite of that and turning them into the seven virtues. In the end, I went with the sins cuz it was kinda fun to compare each GoM member and Kagami to the sins, especially since it was already made up of six people, and adding Kagami to the count hammered the nail to the coffin.

Keep reading

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