#but a good chunk of them I tried to color match which is helpful
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camscendants · 2 years ago
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bleeding-hart · 7 months ago
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visuals for the marauders
putting this here so I have a reference later when I'm actually writing and posting the fanfic (rn I just have a good chunk plotted out and some scenes in my brain). Also including their pronouns so it makes a little more sense. For their clothing, it's just their choices when they don't have to wear the school uniform (I hate the uniform deeply imo no one looks as hot in robes). I am taking artistic license with their designs bc I can make them look better than their canon designs do easily. If I said something contradicting these earlier, ignore it, I've got shit memory and adhd.
Sirius (he/they/she): long hair, one of those really queer nonbinary bun type things? She wears half goth half casual punk clothing stuff (like fishnet shirts under sleeveless black hoodies/ corsets with leather band jackets, etc. Definitely a spikey black boots/spiked collar type person). Decently pale skin and really dark blueish eyes, like the night sky right before it fades to black or the sea during a thunderstorm. They do their own piercings which has given them more than one infection, but he does have some successful ones (nose bridge, eyebrow, lots of ear stuff, and snakebites). Remus will insist to do it for them if he knows that she has a new idea, and he's significantly safer about them.
Remus (he/they? He/him? Somewhat cis but has a complicated relationship with gender): short golden brown hair that's in a barely noticeably mullet style. Nostril piercing (Sirius said it would look good on him so he did it). Warm-toned light brown skin with a lot of freckles that you generally can't see, dark amber eyes. Dresses for comfort over style, which usually means t-shirts, sweatpants and beat up old sneakers. Their only very noticeable scar on their face is one over their lips and chin. They have more, but the others are more skin toned.
Peter (he/they, sometimes it): generally very cute, light skin with some freckles and messy wavy blonde hair, pale sky blue eyes. Sirius is trying to convince him to let them give him snakebites but he's very on the fence about it (he barely even wears makeup so he isn't the most adventurous about that stuff). Thick/long lashes. Tends to wear muted neutral colors. The only jewelery that he's consistent about is a leather bracelet he always has on his left wrist. Tries to not be visually noticeable, tends to hang around the back of the friend group and let the others get all the attention.
James (he/him probably): longer curly/wavy dark brown queer mullet (tboy energy) and warm brown skin. Dark golden toned brown eyes. People tend to think he and Remus are cousins or something which he thinks is really funny (he's definitely turned around and started making out with him for as a bit when someone asks them if they're related). Usually wears brown dyed or bleached jeans and reddish-brown/brown/green-brown/yellow t shirts and tops for the cohesive and effortless energy. Paints his nails bright colors whenever he can as a contrast to Sirius's chronically flaking black nail polish. Has his lobes pierced but usually just wears gold studs. Wears gold bands around his biceps so he can flex when he wins a quiddich (<- I did not check how to spell that, you know what I mean) match
Regulus (he/him): he prefers to wear more formal clothing because that's what he was raised doing and the layers help him cover up any raised areas on his binder, but when that isn't an option/he's too depressed to do anything fancy, he wears black hoodies that are significantly too large for him (barty or evan's usually). Makeup tends to give hm dysphoria, but he always fills in his eyebrows and he'll put eyeliner on his waterline when he's going to an actual event. He pierced his tongue as an act of rebellion when he was younger and now he just fidgets with it a lot, other than that he just has his lobes done (he got them as a newborn) and he always leaves them empty in hopes that they'll seal up.
I know what the others look like but this is long enough as is haha
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hotpriesteddie · 6 months ago
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i think this is going to sound quite stupid and obvious so bear with me for a moment. i absolutely love your gifsets. the colors are always so pretty i always stare at them in awe. recently, i stumbled on this (/post/748295441463099393/i-can-be-in-love-forever-if-i-die-first) post, and i was wondering how did you managed to make that layout? and if you have any tips for coloring when working with multiple gifs in one canvas
no not stupid at all! thank you so much, you're so sweet!
i usually make up layouts as i go, but because this time because i was working with such a large long set i actually planned some stuff out lol. i'm gonna try to lay out some rough steps —
i did first what i always do — i decided which scenes will go with what lyrics, and then i divided those into rough chunks of how many individual gifs would go into one actual gif
before i worked on each large gif, i sketched out a rough layout of how i wanted it to look like — not very planned, but whatever felt right in the moment
assuming you have basic knowledge of how to import and colour gifs, i then imported the smaller individual gifs into photoshop. before i combined them all into one canvas, though, i created a canvas on photoshop and drew out the rough sketch layout i had made. i created and adjusted the exact shapes until it looked about right
i then copied all of the smaller gifs into the bigger canvas. the good thing about creating shapes for my layout was that i could just select them one by one and add layer masks to the gifs accordingly, and then just resize them within the mask until they looked right
once all the gifs were laid out, i started colouring. it was a little tricky to colour and sharpen multiple gifs in this layout because i was convinced they all looked like different shades of red/blue and weren't going together at all
i don't know if this will work for everyone but because i had so many gifs to colour, i started with the ones that seemed the easiest to get to work with the colour scheme — the scene of eddie outside watching as the factory blows in buck begins, eddie laying on the ground after he got shot, buck telling bobby he couldn't protect eddie. once those were done, it was easier to go around and make some of the scenes that didn't work with my colour scheme black and white, or put a gradient mask over them
layer masks and clipping masks are your best friend! every time i added an adjustment layer i clipped it to the gif i was working with, or it would go over the whole gif and ruin my own perception of what i wanted the gifset to look like, even for a moment
for the individual gifs, i chose a hue/saturation/aesthetic style with the first gif in the set and tried to make every subsequent gif match it. that was the only way i would get it looking somewhat cohesive, because they're all such different scenes with different lighting and colouring requirements
i hope this makes at least some sense! if it doesn't help, let me know and i'll try to be more specific
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sunshinetheo · 3 years ago
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P1HARMONY AS CHRISTMAS ACTIVITIES
warnings: food,, i think that's it, barely proofread. — word count: 1,688
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YOON KEEHO. building a gingerbread house
keeho yells out, upset that his gingerbread keeps falling apart. he laughs at his continued failure despite reading the directions over and over again. you try your hardest to help but his gingerbread house already looks a mess. yours looks decent at least, which is why you started helping your boyfriend. his gingerbread house was bound to look crazy judging by the fact that there was a mix of colored frosting everywhere. all of the colors he put together were starting to melt into one chunk of frosting. eventually, you took a step back to wipe your hands but you ended up staring at keeho for a bit as he tried over and over to reattach the same piece that's now covered in frosting. he continues to try and wipe off the thick frosting that's causing the roof piece sit up too high. you'd be lying if you said his gingerbread house didn't look like shit but it was still cute because it's his. you laughed at him slightly, catching his attention. he turns to you, questioning your laughter even though he already knows the reason quite well, the smile that comes across his face warms your heart. the boy looks over at your house and jokingly picks on it even though he loves how yours came out. he tells you he's only kidding as he now wipes his hands, abandoning his half finished gingerbread house.
CHOI TAEYANG. watching christmas movies
the house is filled with warmth and the smell of freshly baked goods. you had put in some cookies a little while ago and they were starting to smell really good. taeyang was gathering some things like blankets and plushies to put on the couch around you guys. you'd planned to find random christmas movies, not missing out on the classics such as home alone. you set an alarm for the cookies even though the oven alarm is on and you sit down and started to get comfortable. taeyang has on comfy pajamas, ones that sorta match yours. he comes over to you, grabbing the remote with a smile before sitting next to you and scooting close. he asks what you want to watch while scrolling through the streaming programs that are installed on your computer. neither of you thought it through so you both decided to just scroll through the christmas movie section that was added when the holiday season rolled around. there were many movies that neither of you had seen that honestly caught your eye. even if you weren't the biggest fan of christmas movies you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little curious about them. taeyang picked a movie, laying on your chest. you started playing in his hair, smiling down at the pretty boy. the alarm on the oven went off causing theo to whine slightly because his comfort is ruined. you apologize to him as you get up and run over to check on the cookies. he continues to complain about how cold he is which makes you laugh but you grab a cookie from off of the sheet. you leave the rest to set since the one you grabbed instantly fell apart but you bring it over to taeyang who was excited to try them earlier. he stops complaining when you feed him the sweet cookie and cuddle him once again.
CHOI JIUNG. putting up decorations
jiung lightly jogs over to you, helping you pull the box of decorations out of your car. you'd just gotten back from his parents house where his mother kindly allowed you two to bring home the decorations that she'd collected over the years. it was hard getting the box upstairs but once you did you both opened it up immediately. jiung had so many stories about past christmases that the contents of the box reminded him of. there were even some pictures of when he was younger in it. he'd get slightly embarrassed by some of the pictures of him eating christmas dinner or of him opening gifts with an excited expression on his face. he was so small and adorable in all of the pictures it made you feel so happy. your heart melted at the sight of him rambling about him and his family and you just listened to all he had to say before you started decorating. you'd allowed him to mainly lead where the decorations went since they were important to him. he grabbed an ornament, one with a picture of him as a baby on it and it gave him an idea. he brought it over to you, feeling slightly shy. you asked him what's wrong and he laughed a little, stalling with the question. eventually, after getting past the nerves he asked you if you'd like to get an ornament with a picture of you two together. you smiled at the request, nodding and placing a kiss ok your boyfriends forehead. 
HWANG INTAK. going christmas shopping
you walk into the store hand in hand with your boyfriend. once you're inside, the chillyness of the outside finally gets eased slightly by the warmth of the indoors. intak let's go of your hand, quickly getting distracted by something and showing it to you. you smile, fiddling with your gloves as you try to remove them. he brings the dancing christmas tree to you, smiling and dancing along with it. you laugh as you watch him, nodding along with the music. he puts it in the basket that he ran to grab, mumbling about how shota would really enjoy it. you lead intak into an isle, grabbing the end of the basket when he stopped it too close to you, almost bumping into you. you both look through the isle, specifically at the ornaments that would eventually go on the tree that you haven't gotten to decorate yet. shopping with intak is one of your favorite things because of your very similar taste. there was almost never a hassle when it came to the things you would purchase. the tree that you were shopping for was a different experience though. for some reason none of the things you both wanted to buy were matching up and it caused a weird mix of items in your cart. neither of you complained but when you both looked back into the cart you couldn't help but laugh. there was a huge mix of colors and shapes and sizes and it was going to make for a weird looking tree. "it's okay! it's just gonna have a lot of charm!" you smiled and agreed, envisioning how weird the tree was going to look. 
HAKU SHOTA. building a snowman
his face is flushed red as he troddles around in the snow focusing on each detail of the snowman's body. he wants it to look interesting and different, this isn't just a snowman, it's a creation by a mastermind. shota definitely takes it very seriously when he's putting together this snowman because he wants it to be perfect. he'd even run inside and grab some clothing pieces and accessories to add to it in order to make it look as awesome as he can. the snowman would come out looking,,, interesting to say the least but it just resembles shota so much. you'd both take so many pictures next to the beautiful snowman, laughing and smiling as you throw snow at each other every once in a while. he's so happy with the outcome, making sure to bring everyone who's around to come see it. he'd never let you forget about his snow pal, even once he's melted and gone. every time there's snow on the ground he reminds you about this time. it's not that the snowman itself is extremely special but it's about the moment that you shared with one another. he'd never been able to build a snowman with the person he loved most and it may sound cheesy but he felt very strongly about this moment. you could say the same as well, just thinking about it makes you feel warm. shota was so smiley and happy to be able to spend time with you in the freezing cold and be able to still feel warm just by being near you and that makes you happy. 
KIM JONGSEOB. making a christmas playlist
jongseob plays the song he chose out loud, letting it play through the room. it's a classic that makes you immediately start singing and dancing a long. this is a song you grew up with and jongseob knew this so he really wanted to play it for you. he smiled while watching you jam to the music, singing every single lyric. jongseob danced along as well, happy to make you smile. "that's a really good song, i used to play it all the time when i was little!" jongseob smiled at you, quietly adding it to the playlist he had been making for you. you didn't notice this of course but he had been playing songs for you to see how much you enjoyed them for a while now. if you reacted very positively he would add them to the playlist. the holidays are stressful for many reasons so he wanted to give you something that would make you smile. some of the songs were christmas themed and some weren't but he wanted you to be able to remember this moment. you got a message with a link that had a message attached, "hey, i got something for you!" jongseob was sitting right next to you so it made you look up at him with a confused expression. you opened up the link and it opened to a playlist with a picture of you and him together. immediately you noticed a bunch of songs you loved. there were many different types of songs but all of which matched you so well, it made you smile immediately. "jongseob!! this is so sweet!" he instantly got shy about it but you pulled him into a hug and felt as he melted into you. 
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note: the writing is ugly and i know it's late but i really struggled to write this post but i still really wanted to put it out anyways 😭
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i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years ago
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Chapter 19
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Glass Shards
Warnings: Mentions of: death during childbirth, child abuse, alcoholism, fallout between brothers
This is basically Damien telling her a condensed version of most flashbacks of Undeserved.
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More mentally than physically exhausted, Merridy leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. She tried to consciously relax her arms and shoulders, to let the tension fade.
When she looked up, she had regained her composure, at least outwardly, and asked, “So, what did you look at?”
“A glassblower.”
Expectantly, she looked at Damien and waited for him to elaborate. He had looked so fascinated, so happy, there had to be more to this. She still knew so little about him.
Damien opened his mouth, closed it again, and then settled down on the far end of the bed. He bent one leg, on which he leaned with his elbow.
“My father was a glassblower,” he began to tell the story. “He made jewelry and figurines and glasses and lamps. I loved his workshop. There were boxes and barrels and sacks everywhere, filled with glass. Some were uncut, colorless chunks and you could imagine finding a whole box of diamonds. Others were full of colorful drips and blobs left over from work. How I loved to sink my hands into them and let them trickle through my fingers.” Damien smiled, tapping his finger against his knee. “I could spend hours looking at them one by one, making out shapes in them and secretly letting the prettiest ones disappear into my pocket.”
Merridy tried to imagine it. When she was little, she had collected sticks and stones, roots that looked only remotely like animals, and colored leaves. How wonderful must such a workshop be for a child?
“I don’t have many early memories of… of the time before it all fell apart. The few I do have are so full of happiness. I remember sitting on my father’s lap while he operated the bellows. My short legs didn’t reach all the way down. He held my hands so I wouldn’t accidentally burn myself and helped me guide his tools. The glass got all soft and I pulled it longer and longer. I couldn’t believe it. After the first strand broke, he helped me start a new one and we shaped it like the shell of a snail. It was cold again so quickly, and then there was this filigree spiral in front of me, so hard that it seemed like a miracle that the glass had been soft as honey just a few moments ago. Sometimes it still seems like a miracle to me…” 
Damien looked at his hand as if he could see into the past, as if he could still see his tiny hand resting in those of his father. Then he shook his head slightly and continued.
“Often he just shaped glassware, or made figures, but sometimes he got very special orders. Then he would put the colorful pieces together, find the right ones in the countless boxes full of shards, and make lanterns or lamp shades or candle holders. When he was finished, after sunset, he would light the candle in them to test the effect. I would always watch. It was so beautiful. When the candle flickered, it painted colored spots of light and shadows on the walls.” 
His words fell silent as he sank further into his memory. Merridy tried to imagine what he had described to her. Many a time she had seen colored glass on her heists, but she had never really paid attention to the objects. At night, when it was dark and no candles were burning inside, they had been unremarkable, and too fragile to be worth stealing.
“Have you never thought of learning it yourself?” she asked after a while. 
Damien looked at her in confusion, as if he had to recall the context of her question, then his expression turned bitter. “I did. When I got a little older, he taught me. The basics and a few tricks, too. Of course, I wasn’t nearly as good as he was. He was a true master.” The bitterness in his voice matched his expression. “It wasn’t only that he had over forty years of experience. Sometimes I felt like the glass was talking to him. That it told him what shape it wanted to take, that he saw it in the glass long before he heated it. Today I know that when I was sixteen, or even twenty, I naturally lacked the practice, and the patience, too. At the time, however, I felt very inadequate.”
Again he fell silent and Merridy waited. She didn’t understand. If he had loved it so much, if he had learned it — how had he ended up in the dusty steppes of Raqhar, how had he ended up hurting people instead of creating art?
When it was clear that he would not continue speaking on his own, she weighed curiosity against restraint. Curiosity won out. “What happened? Why did you stop?”
Instead of answering, Damien got up, walked to the jug to pour himself a cup of tea, but put it on the table without drinking from it. As if he had forgotten it from one moment to the next, he went to the window and stared through the glass at the sky outside.
“It’s a long story,” he then murmured.
Merridy straightened up and leaned against the wall. “I have time.” She looked at him expectantly.
“It’s not a very nice story, either,” he tried again. 
“I don’t care about that, Damien. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’m not going to press you. But I would listen to you. I’d like to understand you better.” 
She would never confess to him that, back at Cedric’s house, she had actually hesitated for a moment. When her friend had told her that the man lying wounded on his sofa had been accused of treason. That he was one of the rebels, and most likely even a murderer. But then she had remembered the fear in his gaze, the pain and the despair, and she had decided that he deserved a chance. Not once had she regretted that decision.
Damien didn’t move, just kept staring out the window, and Merridy followed his gaze. It had started to rain. Everything was gray and gloomy. The wind pressed raindrops against the glass, and she watched them run down until they vanished from her view.
“He… I— When I was six… my mother died giving birth to my brother,” Damien finally broke the silence. “It hit my father hard. He got him a wet nurse, but didn’t take care of him at all. Or me. He withdrew with his grief, buried himself in work and started drinking. I… I had a hard time understanding him. Understanding anything. There was this little bundle of a person and I wanted to blame him, but I couldn’t. He was so tiny. So tiny.” 
While his words had been hesitant at first, Damien was now completely absorbed in his memory. His face had taken on a soft expression. His words captured Merridy. This was the first time she had heard of a brother.
“His name is Valadan. My brother’s I mean. He got older and my father still ignored him, so it… he became my responsibility. We played together, as brothers do, but I also… I don’t know, I guess I took care of everything. I made sure he ate, and sent him to school, and helped him with his homework, and bought and mended his clothes.
Father was… he didn’t care. Not about Valadan. Not about anything. I don’t really remember what he was like when mother was alive, but her death destroyed a part of him. When he drank, which was almost all the time, he was mostly just sad. But every now and then he would get angry. He blamed Valadan for his wife’s death. I always defended him. If he messed up, I took the blame because he punished me less harshly. When our father wanted to hit him, I intervened. When Valadan was devastated because his own father just couldn’t love him, I comforted him.”
Damien hadn’t even come to the point where he had started to learn his father’s craft, let alone how it had come he had given it up, but he looked so incredibly sad already. Merridy wouldn’t have asked again, if he had stopped speaking now. Staring out of the window, he continued on his own, his voice low.
“At some point my father remembered that I existed.” He laughed dryly. “I had been keeping his books for a while, and now he decided to teach me the craft. No matter how hard I tried, he was never satisfied with me. I was either too slow or not careful enough or just not as damn good as he was. 
“Then one day he snapped. He held up to me every piece I had made and not sold in the last few weeks. Pointing out every single mistake. When he couldn’t find any more, he went looking for other things. He dismissed the books I loved to read as nonsense and a waste of time. He accused me of having failed in raising my brother, that it was my fault that he had become such a spoiled, rude brat. Everything that meant something to me in my life, he went after, put everything down, left nothing good about it. 
“The worst thing… the worst thing was that he wasn’t angry like he usually was. He was just calm. He just stood there and matter-of-factly explained to me why I’m the biggest disappointment of his life, why he’s ashamed of me, why I’ll never amount to anything.”
Merridy hadn’t noticed that she had tightened her arms around her legs, digging her fingers into the fabric of her pants. When Damien fell silent for a moment, a burning pain brought it to her attention and she relaxed a little. She clasped her hands in front of her chest instead, holding the bandaged area. Wide-eyed, she listened as he then continued to speak.
“It destroyed something in me. Broke me. I tried to go on, but there was always this voice telling me that everything is pointless anyway. That I can’t do anything right. That I’m worthless. I… still feel that way. I doubt myself and everything I do. Nothing I achieve ever seems to be good enough. I want to give up, to stop trying because… what’s the point. When it’s never enough.”
Damien shook his head. His voice had gotten much quieter toward the end. Merridy remembered their argument when he had gotten so upset about the exercises. She had forgiven him the same day, but now that she knew why he had reacted that way, she was doubly glad she hadn’t held it against him.
“I kept taking care of the books, and the contracts, and… I continued to create some things. Easy things not even I could fuck up.” A bitter laugh followed his words. “My brother and I… we both grew bitter in our own ways. In hindsight, some of the things we fought over were ridiculous. Insignificant. But back then it was all too much; too much anger, too much hurt, too much resentment.
“Then our father died. Just like that. He drank too much, fell, hit his head on the edge of a table and never woke up. For the time before and after the funeral we pulled ourselves together, but after the initial shock was over, Valadan and I fought more than before. I wanted to keep the business. He wanted to sell everything and leave. He hated the glass, and I still loved it and… I… we both said horrible things. I told him he was an irresponsible dreamer and needed to grow up. He called me an old-fashioned asshole. He told me that I wasn’t his father and should stop acting like I was. Then I… I blamed him for the death of our mother.”
Damien had his hand clasped so tightly around the window sill that his knuckles stood out white. He had his back turned towards Merrridy, but the tremor in his voice told her that he was most likely crying.
“He— he left. Just like that. Didn’t say a word. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. I never saw him again until a few weeks ago,” he said, reaching for the spot where his right arm was missing. “Turned out my father was right. I was… I couldn’t get anything done. For hours, for days, I stared at that glass. I didn’t know what to do with it. What to do with myself. The few pieces I made seemed so… inadequate. One day I snapped, and I smashed all of them. There was broken glass everywhere on the floor. I locked the workshop and never entered it again.”
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[ID: The top image is a banner covered in colorful glass shards. Across it is written the title of the story, glass shards, in a white to bright cyan gradient with a black outline. The font looks like written with a broad paintbrush. All other images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]
Welp. And we continue with the awkward splits.
Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup​ @kixngiggles​
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago
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ice lolly, m | ksj
pairing(s): seokjin x reader
summary: You (accidentally?) deep throat a popsicle in front of Min Yoongi. It's not what it looks like! Well, it kinda is, but you have a good reason! You just want to give your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin, a mind-blowing blowjob and you read some stuff online and, uh... okay, that still doesn't sound like a good reason, but I swear it is.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; featuring seagull-BTS LOL; crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral); ft Min Yoongi witnessing your, um, attempt XD; my tongue technology strikes again, maybe you'll learn something?
this is inspired by your hapless adventures, cat whiskers. you told me not to do it, but I'm a brat and I did it anyway LMAO get rekt
--
So.
You read this thing online.
What if you just...
"What are you doing?"
You started with a shriek, jamming the entire ice lolly right into the back of your throat, instantly choking and yanking it out of your mouth, only for it to be flung off the wooden stick and fly across the sidewalk, leaving a long, ice-blue streak of melting sugar syrup ending with a demolished hunk of discarded popsicle.
A seagull immediately appeared to peck at it.
You gawked, still clutching the wooden stick, Min Yoongi standing beside the bench you were sitting on.
"Why did you try to deep throat your popsicle?"
A second seagull arrived to peck at the icy hunk of sugar water.
Your mouth was still open, mechanically jerking to face him with fire-red cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the bright sunny weather. He looked very much like a disgruntled cat with his expression, black eyebrow raised, dark brown eyes narrowed, pink lips slightly pursed. Yoongi squinted disapprovingly from under his wide-brimmed straw hat. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt under a white t-shirt, breezy black trousers, and sandals.
Yoongi hated the sun.
A third seagull flapped down onto the boardwalk and joined the other two to poke at the rapidly melting mess on the ground.
"Um..."
He raised a hand dismissively, eyes flicking away from you. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Yoongi jammed his black clutch under his armpit and ripped open his own cold sweet treat, turning away from you to face the ocean.
A fourth seagull flocked over to peck one of them in the head and assist in devouring the ice pop.
"Hey, hyung, what flavor did you get?" a smooth baritone voice piped, appearing in an aqua-and-pink colorful shirt and brown shorts with snazzy sunglasses and tan skin.
You were staring at the four seagulls eating your ice lolly with glee, somewhat frozen yourself, feeling a mixture of jealous, mortified, and absolutely ready to chuck yourself into the ocean if Yoongi said anything to out you to Kim Taehyung right now.
"I don't know. I told them to pick one at random," the straw hat replied.
A fifth seagull appeared, slightly smaller than the rest, poking one in the neck and squawking before trying to prod at the puddle of blue syrup with a small chunk of ice in it.
"I got strawberry," Taehyung replied.
Two more seagulls swooped down, pushing the other five all around. All of them were now pecking at the ice-blue sugar syrup, honking and squawking. Like laughter. One of the seagulls had a weird cry, like a cloth rubbed onto wet glass.
Or a windshield wiper on a car window.
"Disgusting."
You narrowed your eyes at the seven seagulls.
We they... laughing at you?
"Strawberry-flavored things are the worst."
You jumped as someone sat down next to you, ripping open a paper package. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale pink dress shirt with a flashy tie and long blue shorts. A familiar someone dressed like this. He placed his backpack down next to you, smiling brilliantly. Full lips, sparkling brown eyes, milk chocolate-colored locks framing his handsome face.
Your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.
"S-Seokjin!"
He grinned and leaned in, kissing you lightly. Then he became flustered and laughed awkwardly, a little squeaky, almost like a windshield wiper on a car window.
"Hah, sorry, you looked really cute just now."
You blinked rapidly.
Do you tell your boyfriend that you tried to deep throat your ice lolly in attempt to see if you could extend your tongue around the bottom because you read on a certain-website-not-to-be-named that it might be possible to suck dick and lick balls at the same time and you were determined to learn so you could perform said act?
And do you tell Seokjin that Min Yoongi caught you in the middle of it?
Er…
Seokjin cheerfully licked at his lemon ice pop, oblivious to your inner struggle.
"Where's yours? I thought you got one too?"
The seven seagulls cackled. You glared at them, ready to fight.
"Hyung."
Never mind, you paled to the color of rice paper as the deep voice with a little rasp to it appeared beside Seokjin, straw hat and all. You wished you could merge with your pastel floral summer dress and float off with the sea breeze, straight into the ocean after seeing the deadpan expression of Min Yoongi holding a mint green popsicle.
He looked bored, but his eyes were mocking you.
Asshole.
"She dropped it by accident."
"Ah, really?" Seokjin frowned, nudging you with his hand. "Here, have some of mine. I'll share with you." He wrapped his arm around you and patted your shoulder fondly, holding his ice lolly out to you. You felt your heart skip a little at his kindness and closeness.
Yoongi smirked behind Seokjin's head.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
The seven seagulls flapped off, flying above five guys standing near you three, eating icy sweet treats together on the boardwalk this sunny day, enjoying this nice retreat to the sea. A lone seagull popped out from behind a trashcan, trotting over, eyeing the wet spot of sugar syrup soaked into asphalt.
It slunk away in a back corner, dejected that there was nothing left.
"Come on, hurry before it melts."
You nibbled off a chunk. Mmm. Cold, lemony, and delicious. You smiled at Seokjin gratefully and he smiled back, warm and inviting, his cheeks puffing a little like the edges of raised bread. A little sheepish at the public display of affection, but unable to help it when he was with you.
"You might as well stick the whole thing in your mouth," Yoongi said off-handedly, walking away to the group of five guys, leaving you choking on the bench again as Seokjin rubbed your back soothingly, worriedly asking you what was wrong.
-
"YOU TRIED TO DEEP THROAT A POPSICLE?"
"Seokjinnie–"
"IN FRONT OF YOONGI?"
"Erm, it's not what it sounds like–"
"YOONGI???????"
“I swear it’s not what It sounds like!”
Seokjin yanked the towel off his head, half-dried brown hair sticking up every which way, gawping at you with a slack jaw and shocked brown eyes. He was wearing his emerald green silk pajamas, fresh after a nice shower from the hot day. You too, wore a set of pajamas, a matching outfit with Seokjin.
“It’s not what it sounds like?” he sputtered, flabbergasted, partly flabbered but mostly aghast.
You opened your mouth and closed it. Then you opened it again.
“Okay, it is what it sounds like, but–!”
Why did you bring this up now? Well, your boyfriend was asking you if you wanted to take some medicine and sleep early because you said you weren’t feeling well at dinner. He was a sweet bean and wanted the best for you, and the truth came out in mid-discussion. Seokjin and you had left earlier than everyone else, declining the scenic walk home, mostly because you could no longer stand Yoongi making snide remarks that meant nothing to anyone else except you.
“You might need a bit more force to suck up that thick milkshake. Or wait for it to melt.”
“That’s a pretty big piece of steak. Maybe you should cut it a bit smaller, so you don’t choke.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay for dessert? We could stop by the store and get you an ice lolly on our way home.”
You glared at him all evening.
Yoongi just smirked when Seokjin wasn’t looking.
Asshole.
“Why would you do that in public?” Seokjin was saying, yanking you back to reality and out of your daydreams of socking that smug little shit in the face. “Why would you do that at all?”
“G-Gah, it… it just… just occurred to me…”
“It occurred to you to suck an ice lolly like a dick?”
Seokjin looked as if he was going to pass out and divorce you at the same time and you weren’t even married yet.
“Why, because you’re going to suck frozen dick at some point in your life? Because my dick isn’t ever at subzero temperatures, so unless you’re sucking Mr. Freeze or Subzero’s dick–”
You waved your arms in a panicky manner, flapping your sleeves like a fucking seagull. “No, no, no, I read something online–”
“Oh, you read something online!” he exclaimed, wiggling in place, and now it sure as hell sounded like Kim Seokjin was mocking you while also being disappointed in you and if that wasn’t the most big dad energy you weren’t sure what was. “Yes, because that totally means you should perform fellatio on an ice pop in front of Yoongi of all fucking people! Are you trying to get bronchitis or something–”
“I admit it was a mistake!”
“A miss-take! It was a terrible take! Cut! Refilm! Actually, no, because maybe don’t try to give a blowjob to a fucking popsicle at the boardwalk in broad daylight!”
You smacked Seokjin in the chest and he looked highly offended, finally shutting up for one goddamn second so you could (poorly) explain your logic behind the incident.
“Look, Yoongi was not supposed to be there. At all. I got mine first and you all were deciding and arguing, so I decided to sit down and eat it, but then I noticed it was a specific length–”
Seokjin’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his face.
You prodded him in the pecs and he winced, pouting at you.
“So, I tried to put it in my mouth, but then Yoongi showed up and fucking spooked me and I jabbed myself in the throat because I was surprised and ended up rocket-launching my ice lolly across the sidewalk and then these fucking seagulls showed up, those bastards–”
“None of this explains why you tried to do it in the first place.”
“Uh…”
Your eyes shifted awkwardly.
Seokjin impatiently tapped his naked wrist that had no watch on it.
“I read it… in an online smut story I was reading…”
You perfectly handsome boyfriend might actually get a wrinkle if he continued to raise his eyebrows to the fucking moon. “You do what?”
You poked your index fingers together, biting your lip. “Because… I’m not very good at it… so I was thinking maybe I could learn some tips or something…”
“What?”
Now his voice was soft, immediately dropping the act and his anger. You saw him reach out and place his hand over yours, wrapping his fingers around tightly, tugging. You looked up and he tilted his head, brow knitted in worry.
“Hey,” Seokjin frowned, full lower lip sticking out. “What do you mean, you’re not good at it? You are. I like everything you do.”
You chewed on your lip anxiously. “But… but…” It was a stupid thought and, honestly, not that big of a deal, but it had been eating away at you for a while, so you just winced and let it out.
“You never finish with my mouth.”
Rapid blinking was his response. His eyebrows disappeared under his brown hair again.
“And it bothers me. You always finish with your hand into my mouth, but I can’t seem to do it by myself.”
Seokjin’s lips parted, looking apologetic. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
You wrung your hands, loosening his grip on you. “I don’t know, it seems weird to say in the moment and it’s embarrassing… I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough…”
“No, no,” he said gently, holding your shoulders and shaking his head. “I...” His ears turned bright red and he swallowed. “I just like… seeing it shoot out into your mouth.” He coughed awkwardly, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s, er, nice, watching my cum drip onto your tongue and lips…” Seokjin cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks puffing out, looking a bit like the sides of freshly baked bread. “I didn’t realize my selfishness was making you feel inadequate. That’s not it at all. I only wanted to make it easier on you, and, cough, it’s kind of hot…”
“O… oh.”
He patted your shoulder fondly. “It’s only a misunderstanding. We can do whatever you want next time, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I will do better.”
You nodded and smiled, feeling much more relieved about the whole thing. Seokjin always had the ability to help you let things go, and it always made you feel a little lighter. It was part of the past now and you wouldn’t be bothered if Yoongi teased you any longer, because you had the best boyfriend in the whole world. There was no need to feel embarrassed.
You wrapped your arms around Seokjin and gave him a big, fierce hug.
Only to be impaled in the lower stomach.
“Ow!”
“Ack!”
You jerked back, whipping your head down.
“No, no, no, stop! Stop looking!”
“Why are you hard?!”
Seokjin waved his arms and abruptly flapped his hands down on his massive tent. “We were talking about blowjobs! And you! What do you think is going to happen?” he spluttered, the red creeping from his ears to his cheeks now, matching the exact shades used on merchandise during Christmas time with emerald green pajamas and a red face.
You gawked at him and he gawked back.
Wait.
“This is a perfect chance!”
“No, no, no, it is not, cease and desist, woman! Everyone is coming back soo–Gah!”
There was flurry of movement and Seokjin’s pajama pants were flung off, along with his shirt, and you were pushing him down onto the bed, him panicking the entire time, but he couldn’t have been that mad about it, because he was helping you by backing up, yelping as you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and yanked down, freeing his erection that nearly slapped you in the face.
“You trying to take out my eyeball?” you teased, grinning.
“You assaulting me and you’re upset that I’m fighting back?” Seokjin retorted, trying to hide his smile and be serious, but he was terrible at that and so were you, both of you grinning like a pair of idiots.
Well, you were certainly a little bit of an idiot for trying to deep throat a – you’re right, we’ll let it go (for now).
“I learned some things,” you said excitedly, forcing his legs open abruptly and making him squeak.
“Things? Ack!”
You leaned down and lifted his hard length up delicately, licking a fat stripe from base to tip, sighing softly as you came into contact with the velvety skin and his clean scent, Seokjin gasping above you, but suddenly this was not about him, this was about the cock in front of you and all the information you had complied to this point, ready to apply your learning. You wrapped your lips around the head, swiping your tongue on the underside, and Seokjin groaned, hips twitching but you grabbed them and pressed them firmly to the bed, shooting him a glare.
“Don’t interrupt me,” you growled around his dick.
He gave you a helpless frown. “Hello, I’m still attached to this di–”
You stared at him and slid your tongue out from your lips, swirling it around his girth, pressing the sensitive tip around the contours of your mouth, his eyes widening as he witnessed spit dripping from the wet muscle.
“O… oh…”
You let your eyes drift over his form, slowly, slowly, savoring the lines of his body, broad shoulders, shapely collarbones, the curve downwards to his trim waist, all the while taking him your mouth, tongue and lips soft and mouth tight, breathing deeply, eyes flickering up to his face and his expanding pupils, watching you with awe.
“Holy shit… and you’re not even naked… o-oh, fuck…”
You cocked an eyebrow, probably looking much more confident than you actually felt, but that didn’t matter. Fake it till you make it, right? And besides, every protagonist in every story has a moment of letting go and having courage and this was your moment, inorganic or not, flexing your tongue against Seokjin’s ever stiffening length, his breathing turning into wispy moans, watching you poised over him with his dick in your mouth, still wearing the silk pajamas and yet.
He watched you with amazement, love and lust in his brown orbs.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Your ears burned hot and you tried not to choke on his dick in embarrassment.
Don’t ruin the moment!
Somehow you managed not to freak out and pressed your lips to the base of his cock, hitting his crotch, the uncomfortable feeling of too full expanding your throat, the head practically plugging your airway, but one glance at Seokjin and the suffocation was worth it, seeing him tip his head back, messy brown hair sliding past his forehead, groaning your name with his eyes closed.
You pulled back a little, took a breath, and went back down for the kill.
“What the fuck…?”
Lower lip opening, tongue stretching out, only able to move the tip a bit at the top of his balls. Hm. This wasn’t working. You adjusted and cupped a hand under them, lifting the two soft mounds and pressing them to your chin, your tongue swiping out over them, his dick bending a little in your mouth (more flexible and a lot warmer than an ice lolly, by the way), and Seokjin was losing it above you, shuddering and whining, a mix of curses and your name as you turned your head to get a different angle, the tip of his cock pushed to one side of your throat, determined to see what was most comfortable and got you the best reaction, saliva coating his balls and causing them to become more slippery. You furrowed your brows and gripped his balls tighter, smearing the slick liquid over the soft skin and Seokjin moaned obscenely loudly, falling onto the bed, back arching.
“Oooh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Abruptly, your throat spasmed, reminding you that needed to breathe, and you pulled back, coughing and panting slightly.
“Does that feel good?” you wheezed. Not the sexiest. You grimaced and cleared your throat, asking again. “Did that feel good for you?”
Seokjin tipped his head up, brown eyes glazed over, breathing hard. “Ah… It feels nice, but I don’t think I could finish with that…” Your frown deepened, but he shook his head, sending his brown hair floating everywhere. “It’s not tight enough. But it’s an insane turn on, so I think I could cum faster after…” He coughed, cheeks flushing. “After feeling and seeing it, you know?”
Your frown erased and you nodded, gently rubbing his soaked balls, seeing him shiver and his breathing shallow. “I think I understand, yeah.”
“Can… ah, can you finish me, p-please, ack, you k-keep – fuuuuuuuck…”
You went down again, but this time your focus was on the tightness of your mouth, tongue sliding from side to side, bobbing your head in a smooth, swift motion, keeping your lips soft, eyes closing as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, completely focused on the sensation of Seokjin in between your lips, breathing him in, the soft scent of fresh soap and his sweetness, trying to remember if there was anything you had forgotten.
Ah, yes!
You tipped your head back slightly and Seokjin cried out, heady and erotic, as the head of his cock dragged along the roof of your mouth before burying into your throat, over and over, hot saliva and a squirming tongue amplifying the sensation, realizing you needed to relax your throat but clench your mouth muscles while relaxing your lips and doing all this while keeping track of where his cock was going in your mouth so you didn’t accidentally choke on his dick.
A whole new level of multitasking.
Was the writer of that erotica you were reading some kind of sex god, because what the fuck–
But it didn’t matter, because even if it was sloppy and you couldn’t focus on all these things simultaneously, Seokjin was feeling only pleasure, fingers curling in the sheets, barely able to choke out his words through his moans.
“F-Faster, please…”
Faster? You could barely keep up as it was!
“Please…” he whined and you obeyed immediately, faster it was, because you were weak for him, weak for Kim Seokjin and his pleading face, pupils so blown out he seemed intoxicated, drunk on pleasure, and that made you aroused too, seeing your effect of him, tightening ever more and increasing the pace, the wet smacking sounds quickening, echoing in the bedroom with his lustful groans of your name, so sweet and loving that if you weren’t going to pass out from how fast you were going, you were surely going to pass out from the overwhelming adoration in his eyes. It made you push for a little bit more, push your limits a little harder, made you feel like you could do this.
For him.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
Seokjin gripped the sheets tight and threw his head back, chest expanding with a low moan, thrusting his hips up and cock jolting, shooting thick streams into your throat, and your eyes widened, forced to stop, feeling his cum pool, creamy and viscous, tasting the delicious saltiness at the base of your tongue, your eyelids fluttering a little at the feeling of the tip rutting against the roof of your mouth and more dribbling out, coating the inside of your mouth.
Oh.
Oooh, fuck, it felt good.
You swallowed, feeling victorious and insanely horny, tongue circling round and round his flinching stiffness, able to sense the pulse and his shudders, descending again because you couldn’t get enough, so good, the feeling of him still in your mouth, him shivering at your persistent licks and light sucks, stroking his hips and moaning at the skin to skin.
The front door banged open downstairs and there was a lot of laughing and shouting.
Your eyes snapped open and Seokjin looked back at you in sheer panic.
The footsteps up the stairs proved they were being taken two at a time.
“Shit.”
Never had Seokjin yanked his cock so fast out of your lips (sad) and snatched his underwear and pajamas, bolting to the bathroom and throwing himself in there in record time the literal second the bedroom door was yanked open by rambunctious strength and a grin whose front teeth were ever-so-slightly too large for his face.
“Hyung, noona!”
You were laying with your head in your hand and your elbow on the bed, which was probably too sexual and weird for Jeon Jungkook, but that was all you got that this moment. He gave you a slightly disturbed and confused look under his big black bucket hat.
“Where’s hyung?”
You coughed and lowered your hand, trying to get in a less awkward position. “B-bathroom…” you rasped. Oh no. Did you go too hard? You sounded a bit like the crypt keeper. Fortunately, you didn’t look like one, so there was that. You rubbed your throat, wincing at the soreness. You definitely went a bit rough. You weren’t no young spring chicken anymore. You were going to feel that in the morning.
Sacrifices had to be made.
Jungkook pouted, bounding up to you and tilting his head. He was a moving black fabric mountain with his long-sleeved shirt and billowy shorts. “Are you really sick, noona? Do you want hot tea or some milk?”
Oh my God, Jungkook, I just sucked some dick and that’s why I sound dead.
Don’t say that.
“I… I’ll be fine, Jungkook. Did you have a nice walk?”
“Oh, yeah! There were fireworks! I think the city was celebrating something, and it was so colorful and pretty…”
You sat there and nodded, trying to listen intently while trying not to think about how Seokjin was in the bathroom rinsing off his saliva and cum-covered dick literal meters from you and oblivious Jungkook.
You saw movement behind Jungkook’s excitedly bouncing head. No straw hat, just black hair flattened against his forehead, covering his cat-like, dark brown eyes.
Yoongi.
He smirked, holding up a box.
Frozen ice lollys, the fizzy soda flavor that was light blue.
A muscle in your eye twitched.
Asshole.
--
masterpost
464 notes · View notes
kiruamon · 2 years ago
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Part 7
Damien listened. Oz had left him on his bed and disappeared into the bathroom next door a few minutes ago, from where Damien could hear some clattering and rushing water from now and then. Meanwhile he found it a little easier to relax in this still rather unfamiliar place. One way or another, he would probably have to seek shelter here as long as he had to. Whenever he thought about the fact that the stupid mirror had disappeared, his tail started to pound angrily on the soft surface of the blanket. His brilliant plan had turned out to be a total failure, and so far he hadn't come up with anything new to try tomorrow! Damien gave a deep sigh just as Oz reappeared in the room, which the little nerd shared with the zombie guy. The slender monster settled on the floor in front of him so that they could meet more or less face to face.
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"How are you?", Oz asked the little hedgehog, even though he knew he couldn't talk. "That was quite an adventure today," he was still glad that the little animal hadn't hurt himself during his outdoor trip. He certainly would never have forgiven himself otherwise. After all, he was responsible for the little one at the moment. "Well… I was just preparing something for you," Oz began, regardless of the fact that he was talking to an animal, to continue his explanation. "Because… well, I thought after that little excursion today, maybe it wouldn't be to bad if we cleaned you a bit." As if the hedgehog understood him, its spines suddenly straightened and it gave an annoyed growl. Even the little tail whipped angrily through the air. How strange. Or had the animal simply sensed by the pitch of his voice that something supposedly unpleasant was coming his way? "I-I promise you that I will be very careful. Besides, I'm going to make sure that your food tastes super good today," Oz tried to persuade the little guy. And to his surprise, the little hedgehog slowly calmed down.
That was … urgh! He certainly didn't need a bath! At least Damien would have liked to say that aloud, but damn it, between his feet still stuck here and there uncomfortable little chunks of earth. Apart from that… he really didn't feel like washing himself with his own tongue like some dumb animal! He shuddered at the very thought. Of the two options he had right now, accepting the help of the little dork in front of him actually seemed to be the better one. Besides, the food-part didn't sound so bad either. "Whatever. But you better feel honored that you get to take care of me. Normally, I wouldn't allow just anyone to do that." As a sign of his goodwill, he tapped a little toward the pitch-black monster in front of him, whose expression immediately brightened with joy. The things some people got so excited about, he would never understand. Damien allowed Oz to gently slide his hands under him to pick him up and carry him from his previous spot into the bathroom.
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The prince of hell was astounded by the bathroom, which he saw from the inside for the first time today. It was even more cramped here than in the bedrooms! How could the four of them possibly endure this? Scattered all over the place were various shampoos, conditioners, a variety of body creme, four different colored cups with matching toothbrushes - which made it easy to guess which one belonged to whom - as well as two large laundry baskets, one of them almost overflowing, and a lot of other stuff was wildly scattered around. Next to the bathtub, which Damien also found way too small, even if it could have served him as a swimming pool at the moment, Oz had cleared an area on the floor, as it looked like. A plastic wash bowl stood there. Curious, Damien tilted his head a little and realized that there was a bit of water in it. "I put warm water in it, but don't worry it's not hot," Oz spoke reassuringly to him. "Pfffh, seriously? There is no such thing as too hot," hopefully the water wasn't just lukewarm, after all, he had never been too much of a fan of cold showers.
Oz carefully sat down with him in front of the bowl, next to which a small towel, a hair dryer - probably the one the crazy Frankenstein monster-girl had wrecked this morning and repaired by now -, a bottle of shampoo and… a toothbrush? Only with half an ear - or head? - Damien listened as the little dork just told him that he was going to put him in the water now.
The water was warm as promised - but could have been warmer for his taste - and covered his paws, but it didn't reach up to his belly as long as he stood upright. Admittedly, Damien was quite glad that the monster in front of him hadn't overdone it with the amount of water, because he had no idea how well he could swim with this body and didn't plan to find out anytime soon. "Looks like it's okay so far, right?", Oz gently looked down at him from above as Damien stood in his oversized foot bath. Granted as a hedgehog, the bowl was almost the same size and depth as the Jacuzzi from his bathroom at home. Whereas this was certainly anything but comparable with the lack of any functions. "I guess it will do," Damien muttered to himself, looking up at Oz, who was smearing a tiny blob of shampoo on his hand and rubbing it between his thin fingertips. "May I?" "What- ?" before he could ask what Oz meant, the well-familiar hand of the friendly monster was already reaching out and lifting one of his front paws with utmost carefulness.
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Normally, it should have felt unpleasant to him. His new paw, so weak and vulnerable at the moment, were stuck like a thin twig between the fingers of a giant. An extremely friendly and so gentle giant that Damien felt he didn't have to worry about Oz taking advantage of his situation. Overly cautious, the shampoo was rubbed between his clawed paws, then washed out, and then it started all over again until Damien felt that even the last crumb of dirt had been removed from his fur. To his surprise, he also found out the purpose of the toothbrush, which he had previously considered irrelevant. It served as an oversized brush to get the dirt out from between his spikes as well. Oz first spread warm water from the bowl over his back before stroking the toothbrush through his lowered spikes with smooth and steady motions. The procedure felt as pleasant as the little foot massage Damien had received earlier, which was why he unintentionally let out a delighted little noise. "This is something I could almost get used to."
So relaxed, the prince even allowed himself to be turned onto his back by the other, with Oz supporting him from behind with one hand. This time the warm water poured over his belly, which was also covered with a small layer of soil. But instead of the brush as expected, his Oz's thumb stroked across the wet, soft fur of his belly in tender, circular motions. Oooooh fuck! That felt pretty good. Why had no one ever told him how great it felt to have his belly rubbed like this until now? Alright, alright, Scott had probably said that a dozen times. But Scott also liked chewing on rubber animals, sniffing other people's butts, or getting his head patted! Damien closed his eyes and didn't notice his tail swaying back and forth through the water.
"Well, I think that should do it," Oz almost whispered his words, as the little animal in his hand lay there as relaxed as if it could fall asleep at any moment. Cute. Who could have guessed that the small creature would enjoy the bath so much? A smile formed in his eyes as he gently lifted the little critter out of the water and placed it on the towel, where it slowly opened its golden eyes again. Fondly, Oz stroked the little guy's tiny cheek, happy that he didn't flinch or gave him any other sign that he didn't wanted the contact. "I'd like to dry you off properly so we can be sure you don't catch a cold. I'm sure the hair dryer will be a little loud, but it won't hurt you, I promise… " The creature looked up at him and then at the hair dryer before sitting down and staring at him in anticipation. Almost as if he was waiting for him to get started. W-well… in that case… it seemed to be okay?
In fact, the little hedgehog hadn't even batted an eye when Oz turned on the device and blew the little animal dry. It was a bit surprising and made him wonder if their little guest might not have been a wild animal at all, but a pet. In any case, that would explain some of the more unusual behaviors he had noticed so far. Perhaps he would talk about this with his friends later. But for now, he brought the little hedgehog back to his room, so that the tiny fellow could rest a bit until dinner was served later.
What else is there to say?
Damien is not just slowly settling in to his new temporary home, he is also warming up to Oz.
He made it a habit of following his helper around the apartment, keeping a closer eye on his timid classmate.
He still doesn't care too much for the rest of the Loser Gang.
Recently, when Oz tries to pick him up, Damien makes sure to flatten his spikes.
However, he still fights back with all his strength when one of Oz's friends tries to do the same.
Since Damien still refuses to eat worms and other nasty stuff, he gets pretty much the same food as the rest of the WG residents by now.
Oz suspects it might be okay, since their little guest doesn't seem to be a regular hedgehog, but still keeps an eye out for any signs of food intolerance. So far, thankfully, that hasn't been the case.
Besides that:
Since Damien has been acting very tame lately and even walked by himself towards Oz, Oz once took the opportunity to give him a nose-to-nose kiss.
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Damien was completely taken by surprise by this move and - after he had overcome the first shock - shortly afterwards curled up in a ball and stared sulky at Oz.
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Because how could the little nerd dare to just start cuddling with him! After all, he is the most dangerous and badass guy far and wide! And those guys certainly didn't just cuddle around with weak little nerds like this! Oz was just lucky that Damien owed him something for his rescue. And that his food didn't taste that bad…. Or that he kind of liked it when the little bookworm started scratching him under the chin. Or how Oz smiled at him when…. … … Oh Fuck.
To be continued.;)
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rsmrymnt-tea · 2 years ago
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Saw @barbabetos's post doing this for her self insert so now I've done this for Dolasach hehe~
(Some Of) Dola's Aesthetic Inspo Board
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some of the cast's thoughts on her fashion under the cut >w<
Lucifer: As a member of the 'black is the best neutral’ club, he’s rather fond of her fashion choices, and couldn’t help but be relieved that she’s influenced Satan’s taste and not the other way around through the years. Some choices are very much still choices to him, however; her louder, more elaborate coats and dresses sometimes still baffle him, but he knows better than to tell her to tone it down. Would trust her to pick out clothes for him, and sometimes asks for her opinion of which expensive black turtleneck works better with his expensive black slacks. They probably get their staples from the same place.
Mammon: They probably shop at the same places, honestly, so he more than approves of her taste in fashion. He thinks she carries herself and her clothes well and is tempted from time to time to steal some of the clothes she’s made herself because he knows they’ll sell for a good buck. He likes hanging around her whenever she pulls out something showy, and sometimes tries to convince her to go modeling with him—which 9 times out of 10 end in a refusal. Unless it’s for a solid floral/knitwear collection.
Levi: Admittedly rather flip-floppy with how much he likes what she wears, depending on the day. He veers between thinking she dresses like a total normie (the snobbish artsy type that looks down on low brow art too) and thinking she radiates protagonist energy with how much she stands out from the crowd whenever she wears one of her fancy coats, but for the most part he does like acknowledge that she's fairly well polished. He likes it best when she’s dressed down though, because he’s learned to associate it with her hanging out with him.
Satan: He thinks she looks stunning in anything, really, and he just thinks she looks even better when she loves what she wears. He's actually started absorbing a little of how she dresses over the course of their relationship, whether he realizes it or not, and Asmo's slipped a few thank you's in Dola's direction because of it. Takes some of her larger clothes to wear himself, since a good many of them are in his size. And if she has any complaints, she hasn't made them—probably because they both know a decent chunk of her clothes are actually taken from his and Solomon's closets.
Asmo: They also probably shop at the same places, so he's another who more than approves of her taste in fashion—though part of him does wish that she'd show off more skin, especially since he thinks her tattoos are really pretty. "You should show them off more!" he says, and she replies with telling him that she does show them off whenever its a good day to wear something sleeveless. "But what about the tattoos on your legs?" Oh, well, she'll think about that one in a few years. He's also very thankful that Satan's urge to want to see her in his clothes made him update his wardrobe somewhat, and thinks it's cute that she and Solomon match half the time. Loves when she wears florals and color.
Beel: "I think she looks good." is his usual comment on the matter—he's not really one to pay too much attention to what people wear, but he does pay enough attention to be able to pick out clothes she'd like whenever they go shopping for athletic wear. There are times though when he worries if she's overheating or if she might accidentally trip over her own skirt. Sometimes he also can't help but think the more realistic designs on her clothes look delicious—it's okay Beel, they really do look delicious. Sometimes she gets him to wear her clothes to stretch them out on purpose.
Belphie: He wishes she'd let him borrow her sweaters, they look so soft and comfy. As do a lot of her clothes, actually, but he knows he doesn't have clothes-stealing privileges. He does think a few of her clothes seem like a lot, and has noticed that she stands out a lot whenever they go out into the human world. But it's whatever, so long as she isn't bothered, right? Sometimes he makes hints that he likes the fabric of whatever she's wearing (more like really obvious comments, really) which does get him some clothes made with the same thing, but he finds that it just doesn't feel the same if they're new.
Diavolo: Yet another who probably shops at the same places Dola does. Of course he finds her fashion really interesting and never fails to let her know, though his compliments are usually just met with a polite, impersonal smile, unlike the others. He's a bit amused by how much she manages to blend in visually with the humans he tends to spend the most time with because of his work with Hotel Corvo and Three-Legged Crow group, but never comments on it. He has the feeling that she wouldn't really respond well to any attempts to joke around with her about that.
Barbatos: He appreciates how much thought and polish goes into her outfits, both in styling herself and in the garments themselves. Any compliments from him about her appearance are actually genuine, and really that's as far as most of their conversations go. He'll sometimes ask where she got her clothes just to mentally log it for when Diavolo needs to gift her anything on special occasions, and he makes it a point to pay attention so that whatever they get her is something she likes too much to never wear.
Solomon: As another member of the 'black is the best neutral' club, he's very fond of her fashion. And unlike Lucifer, he's very fond of her more out there choices in clothes, especially since he himself has quite the eye catching signature coat and goes around the human world wearing a hard to ignore selection of talismans and other enchanted accessories. They tend to have days where they match, and they regularly send each other pictures of really cool coats and jewelry. He too sometimes takes her clothes as equal exchange for her taking some of his. Credits himself as the starter of her fondness for unique outerwear after he gifted her a hooded cloak that resembles his starry coat after she became an official (read: legal) sorcerer.
Simeon: Finds the way she dresses to be interesting because it stands out from most of the humans he's encountered. It sometimes makes him wonder if going through the trouble of buying a new wardrobe to blend in with humans was actually necessary, but then her catches how people stare at Dola and her usual company of at least one demon and one immortal sorcerer. He finds himself going to her for advice on human world fashion, which amuses her because she doesn't think it's really that different from the Devildom's. She tries to get him hip to oversized sweaters and knitted cardigans, and it does happen—much to the joy of the Angel's Halo regulars.
Luke: Absolutely enamored whenever he sees her wearing something other than her all-black ensembles. He can tell that there's something to how she dresses because he doesn't miss all the people who give her odd looks and the occasional person who gasps and in surprise. He can't help but want to touch the designs on her clothes, especially the floral ones that look so real, and she does let him. Like Beel, he worries sometimes that she might overheat or trip over her skirts, but for the most part is content to just think she looks nice.
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squipedmew · 3 years ago
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well, since i was at it, I decided to make Vacuo designs for team JNR as well! (Link to my team RWBY designs)
 Here’s some more in depth stuff:
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- Jaune, honey, PLEASE pick a consistent aesthetic. I have no idea whether you’re trying to be classic knight, average white boy, or steampunk. Nevertheless, I tried to combine all of those into an outfit. 
- The shoes he’s wearing are sand boots, based off of the sandboots from breath of the wild. (a good chunk of this design is based off of link from botw actually) 
- His cloak is designed to help him shield himself from the sun and sandstorms, but it’s very thin, so as to keep him cool. 
- I’d imagine the bags on his two belts hold those funny little shield grenades in them that he throws during v8 a ton. 
- Other then that, I didn’t feel the need to modify his Atlas design all that much, it’s actually one of my favorites. 
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- Nora my beloved! First off, I wanted to keep the bright colors of her Atlas arc outfit, rather than the more muted greys and navies of her Vale and Mistral ones, as well as incorporate the heart symbols back into her outfit. 
- Nora isn’t scared to show off her scars, wearing them as a source of pride. As such, she opted not to wear leggings or anything like that. I did give her legwarmers, mostly because they looked cute. 
- Her jacket is actually fairly puffy, and I’d imagine the collar actually goes up pretty high when it’s zipped up. 
- I also wanted to incorporate the silver in, while keeping it an accent color, so I opted to make only her belt buckle and cuffs around her arms silver, and leave it at that. 
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- Gotta say, Ren is actually really hard to design for. His fashion is this strange niche of classic Ninja, street style fashion, casual wear, and warrior fit. It was a lot of fun!
- Ren didn’t want to cut his hair, instead styling it up sort of like his father. He also has his father’s knife strapped around his leg as both a memento and an emergency measure. 
- His legs have some slits cut into the sides for ventilation, and his shoes have silver armor on them to match Nora’s, and to make his landings easier, since he already fights close to the ground anyways. 
- I also added in the pop of pink under his shirt and half sleeves, because I thought it looked cool. 
BONUS: Re-RE-designed Vacuo Weiss!
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So this here was the old Vacuo Weiss design, and on further scrutiny, I really don’t like it. The colors are kinda ugly, there’s too much happening on the top with the weird silver and red shoulder pads, and don’t even get me started on the tights. And more then anything, it doesn’t really feel like Weiss. So here’s Weiss’s Vacuo outfit, mark 2!
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- I wanted the design to have a lot of white in it, which my first one didn’t, and while I considered putting her hair down like in the first, it really ruined Weiss’s silhouette, so I kept it the way it was. 
- I opted not for sheer leggings this time, since she doesn’t have any in her Atlas design anyways, but tried to make it so her white boots didn’t blend in so much. 
- The original design had WAAAAY too much red in it. Red’s always been an accent color for Weiss, so having it feature prominently kinda ruins it. So I scaled it back a ton, just using it for her earrings, necklace, and boot accents. 
- Her dress is embroidered, as a callback to her Vale design, and the dress has some sheer fabric laced onto it, both for heat reasons and also as fashion. Weiss opted to go shoulder less as opposed to her usual tight crop jacket to try and beat the heat, as well as being a reference to Winter’s Vale design. 
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gallusrostromegalus · 5 years ago
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So recently I went camping with my sister and I had a Linguistic expirience.
We were in Yellowstone being excited about geothermal features and generally enjoying ourselves becuae turns out Late September is the best time to hit up the Colder national parks- the only other people there was a family with matching windbreakers speaking german with Swiss accents and the Park Ranger patrolling around to make sure we weren’t planning on skinny dipping or the other bonehaded things tourists do.
As we’re on the way back to the car we see a woman in Bright Red Pants in the parking lot looking both lost and near tears.  She sees us and practically sprints over to ask us
“Parlez-vous français?”
Now, my sister is fluent in spanish, ok at pourtugese and italian and even has a good chunk of Japanese under her belt.  “yo hablo español!”  She offers.  Then offers the other three languages.  Madame Red pants shakes her head at all of them.
I have a dubious grasp of English, but I know enough German to navigate a major metropolitan area if everyone is real patient and repeats things three times for me. “Sprechen Sie Deustch?” I try.
Madame Red Pants (I can see her husband in the car looking equally bewildered. I cannot see the color of his pants. I assume they are equally Rhodacious.) looks crestfallen but tries anyway.  She takes out the park map and indicates the Norris Junction, while speaking French faster than I understand English, but it’s apparent she doesn’t know where she is currently, and needs to get to Norris Junction.
We know where she is and how to get to Norris but can’t convey this via pointing at the map and waving our arms. I feel genuinely bad, and she looks near tears with frustration. 
Then I remember. The matching Swiss Family.
I jog back into the geyser complex and find them excitedly taking pictures of a chipmunk while the Ranger watches them suspiciously from behind a pine tree.  
“Sprechen Sie Französisch?” I ask, and they collectively turn towards me, freeing the chipmunk from thier gaze as it sprints off into the underbrush.
“Ja, bitte.” Says thier Matriarch and leader.
“Eine Frau is Veeeeerlos- no, Verloren! Kann Sie- aw crap what’s the word? Translate?”
“Oh, Ja!” Frau Windbreaker speaks Idiot Tourist too, apparently.  The Swiss collective follows me back to the parking lot and and Frau Windbreaker and Madame Red Pants have a very animated conversation in French that I understand exactly none of.  My sister, feeling left out, offers various memebers of the Swiss Collective trail mix.  some of them even take it. Frau Windbreaker turns to me.
“Wo ist Norris?” She asks, looking mildly embarassed.
I end up having to convey the directions to Norris in German, which Frau Windbreaker translates to French, hindered slightly by the fact that neither of these women know how to read a map, but eventually Madame Red Pants comprehends, thanks us profusely, gets in her car, and manages to turn the correct direction out of the parking lot.  Frau Windbreaker and I shake hands and all of us part ways with the feeling of a job well done.
Before my sister and I can get in the car, the Ranger appraoches us.
“Thanks for that. I’ve felt bad all summer that all I’ve been able to do is turn on google translate for people.”  he said, shyly.
At that moment my sister and I both realized that Madme Red Pants had both a GPS in her car and an Android phone in her hand.
Hopefully the next person to help her was more technologically literate or generally observant than we are.
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cherrynojutsu · 3 years ago
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Title: Like Gold
Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.
Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.
Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)
AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes ending author's notes
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Chapter 8/?: Grasping
Sasuke awakens abruptly, nausea clawing its way out of his throat like a soup of sepsis that’s been left percolating on a stovetop for too long, finally boiling over and soiling everything.
Stomach churning, he tries to aim it at the floor - he’s gotten better at doing that, over the years - but he doesn’t quite succeed. Hot bile, acidic with mostly digested dinner, coats the side of his bedding and part of his sleeve.
He coughs, gagging on acid and torment and hyperventilation. Then his stomach lurches again, and he turns to retch another round at the floor. Part of it floods his nostrils, stinging, and he rasps more.
That triggers another round, after which he waits a minute, sharp coughs punctuating the stillness, familiar at this point with what his stomach’s settling feels like. He shrugs off his shirt once it does, and makes his way to the kitchen, hacking on a foul aftertaste and vomit-inducing visuals flashing before his eyes.
A glance at the clock tells him it’s half past midnight as he gulps water, snorting in a manner very undignified to clear out his nasal passages and soothe the putrid taste overwhelming his insides. Then he chokes more of it down, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache.
There are times when having a near photographic memory is not a good thing. He is very tired of recalling crackling electricity, of stumbling over body after body with lifeless eyes. Men, women, children, all with charcoal irises like his.
And teammates, with irises decidedly not like his, luster flattened to single dull colors.
And himself, at the end, deranged and dispiteous, standing where Itachi had stood a long time ago, looming over remains as if he himself is the final obstacle to defeat before it just ends, the culminating villain in some fucked up fable. All at once, he’s a child again, gagging on a demented form of truth, left to stew there for years and years and years, rotting him from the inside out.
He's noxious. He knows he is. He wishes he could spit himself out along with partially digested yakitori.
Sasuke takes another sip of water as his vision blurs, trying desperately to focus on the wood grain of the cabinets and not daring to close his eyes, lest another flash snake its way into his ocularity and undo the mild soothing the water is providing. He coughs again, throat raw. Then his mouth starts watering, a telltale sign that he’s going to throw up again, so he walks carefully to the bathroom, bottle in hand and trying not to jostle his stomach more than is necessary. Switching on the light and flipping up the seat of the toilet, he makes it just in time.
This round it’s mostly just water, and it burns a little less. The murky brown color he’s faced with seems very reflective of what he feels inside, ignominy and wretchedness and self-loathing, no substance at all, just a bitter aftertaste of that which was left behind on a wood floor a lifetime ago. There had been saliva then, too, seeping from his mouth to the floor in his cowardice.
He swallows once, a gargantuan effort. Then he takes another sip of water, studying the text on the label to try to distract himself, vile and unsettled as he is.
He doesn’t deserve Sakura, not after what he’s done. When his vision starts to blur again, he can’t read anymore anyway, so he looks at the mangled mess left of his left arm instead.
He deserves that, a maiming to fit the crime. He wishes he were a better man.
Slowly so as not to further disturb his stomach, he lies down sideways, pressing his cheek to the coolness of the floor. He feels disconnected from everything, at a loss for proper coherent thought, a mess of misery sprawled on a tile too clean for his own rancidness.
Nothing matters for a long time. He just stares into nothingness, a mild burning in his throat and eyes on a void of pure white that he doesn’t belong in, thinking about how it matches the skin tone of bodies that have been drained of all their color. It’s like he’s barely there, nothing seeming real except the hollow feeling in his chest and the buzzing sensation tempering the edge of his consciousness, like his brain has been stuffed with cotton but parts of it are burning away to nothing. Everything of substance singes away in a controlled burn, destined to always have gaping holes of meaning scorched away at random wherever the fire takes hold.
He doesn't know if there ever even was anything in the first place, deep down. Maybe corrosion is a terrible metaphor, because what's left, at the end of it? Layers and layers of useless shale and sandstone and limestone, packed atop Precambrian filth that’s been decaying there for what feels like centuries. Or magma, set to burn anything he touches.
Or electrocute it.
XXX
Suddenly it’s hours later, and a bird is chirping outside, twitters resounding through a metaphysical tunnel of distortion. Gradually it shifts into an audio that doesn’t sound quite as echoed, accentuated by light filtering in through the miniscule bathroom window.
This happens, sometimes, the nightmares and the absconding into abeyance where his brain seems to shut off, a resulting loss of significant chunks of time. Not sleeping, just staring at something dully for a while, stuck on the same cycle of repeating thought. The memorial stone is a trigger for it, he thinks. It’s why he dreaded going there, upon his return, although it's complicated. Occasionally, visiting it seems to bring feelings that are almost positive, where it feels like he’s reaching out to reclaim tiny shattered shards of what used to be his heart. Mostly, though, it’s just mourning. The reading of names may be what compels the worst of them; sometimes he thinks if he looks too long, he’ll learn things he doesn’t want to know.
Exhausted, he drags himself to his feet and begins wryly picking up the pieces, chest hurting from heaving. He throws his bedding and his shirt haphazardly into the washing machine, drowning them in soap before he grabs cleaner to do the same to his floors.
It smells disgusting, like it’s been petrifying in his stomach for years. He supposes that makes sense; a lot of things have.
Once the surface is clean, he gets in the shower, not caring that all of the hot water is being used for the laundry; the icy cold helps wake him up. He’s fatigued, lethargic, but he knows better than to try to go back to sleep at this point.
As he fights shivers in the towel afterwards, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks awful. Pale and sickly, repulsive, purple sallow staining his skin the same color as the Rinnegan. His normal eye is bloodshot, vacant charcoal that pollutes everything it touches. He lets the black of his hair shift over his Rinnegan eye in a manner he's well accustomed to by now.
His remaining eye inches to the corner of the mirror, the front of the medicine cabinet.
He carefully procures a cough drop, and then makes sencha tea, hoping the caffeine will dull his headache. There’s a part of him that still feels like he’s hardly there, like he’s a ghost just going through the motions. When he takes a sip, it feels good on the throat, but the vomiting earlier has partially singed away the surface of his tongue; he hardly tastes it.
Sasuke then takes the photo from when they were Genin to the living room, grasping onto it for dear life in more ways than one. He alternates between studying it and gazing out the glass, to the cherry blossom tree across the street.
An hour passes, slowly, sitting there thinking about what he does and doesn’t deserve, a mess of thoughts swirling down the drain of his mind. Then another. The luminescence of the day begins trickling in more, green buds across the street gaining back their pigment.
He’s not sure if he should even go to Sakura’s still, because he feels like he’s going to make even worse company today than he usually does, as tired as he is. But he’s weak, and he selfishly wants her; there’s an equanimity only she can provide, the swingback of a pendulum briefly through a sense of normalcy, and he needs the chance to look into jade eyes, to see the light hit them, to ascertain that the chatoyancy has not been dulled. And she’s not dead, despite his inner psyche screaming at him that she would be, had Naruto or Kakashi arrived just a second later. He needs to thank them for that, when he gets the chance, though the timing has never felt right to bring it up.
And he loves her. He's not sure if his love is worth anything, contemptible as he is, but it’s the main reason he can make sense out of the absolute mess that is his inner thought process this morning. So he goes.
XXX
It helps. He’s enormously exhausted, and the light of day hurts his eyes, even once he’s inside and is only absorbing its rays from the diamond window, but it helps.
“Sasuke-kun,” she greets in a voice like honey as she opens her door to him, dimple on open display. She really is so lovely, multi-faceted jade sparking with life that nearly instantly calms some of his anxiety.
He is briefly concerned about what he looks like to her, today. He checked prior to coming over here, brushing his teeth thrice in the hopes that his breath wouldn’t be bad, that he could drench his innards in enough clarifying mint to be even remotely deserving of a small amount of her affection. His eye was a little less bloodshot at that point, but overall he still looked like hell, sickly and pallid.
“Sakura,” he murmurs in response, voice hoarse from being put through a ringer of his own making.
There is a prolonged moment in which she examines him, wearing an analytical expression that reminds him of clinician Sakura. Then the spell is broken, as if she’s forcibly turned that part of herself off, and she’s stepping aside and telling him softly, “Come in! I made onigirazu.”
He steps inside her entryway, setting his book on the console table momentarily beside where Hazel Wood lies, ready to be returned. He then shifts out of her way so he can remove his shoes. He’s not particularly hungry, but he’s glad it’s something fairly simple and heavy on the rice; he should be able to eat it fine.
He follows her inside, appreciating the subdued luminosity of her lamps along the way. The blankets are already laid out on the couch, a promise of simple warmth and companionship that he is very much looking forward to.
As his eye adjusts and he enters the kitchen, ready to grab a plate, his gaze locks on remnants of sliced tomatoes atop a cutting board he recognizes, though it’s familiar to him from his own apartment, not hers.
It’s exactly the same design as the one Naruto gifted him.
A fire roars to life in his ribcage as he freezes for a split second, an exhausted icy hot appreciation. It’s an implication that means the world to him, and particularly well timed.
She wants him around, to help prepare future meals.
“I put some sliced tomatoes in yours. I hope it’s okay,” Sakura says as she hands him a plate, not addressing the elephant in the room at all, as if she just needed a new cutting board and happened to pick up that one, though he knows that cannot possibly be the case; he'd seen at least two in her cupboard, before. “Would you like tea, or maybe some water?”
He nods stiffly, vision a bit blurry, then comprehends the second question.
“Water is fine,” he manages thickly.
They sit in front of her window, supple sunshine streaming in. It’s not too bright here, angled just right.
“...How was your morning?” He asks after taking a sip of water, voice still gravelly. He is beyond content to be sitting here, just looking at her, so much better than a picture.
“Good. Ino and I walk or jog in the early morning on Sundays, if it's nice. Hinata comes sometimes; she did today.” She chews a bite of her rice sandwich.
Sasuke blinks; she hasn’t mentioned that yet. Another chunk of her schedule falls into place. “...Where?”
A half smile blooms on her lips, dimple pushed into being. “Sometimes we run laps around the village, but usually there's no real destination; we just walk and visit.” She takes a sip of her own water. “It’s nice when Hinata comes; it tones Ino down a notch.”
He would snort, if he was in a different sort of mood.
“We went to the southeast part of town today,” she continues. “Ino wanted to see a new building they put up. Her mom has a big order of flowers to deliver there later this week.”
Flowers. In the chaos of the night he’s had, lily bulbs fell to the wayside of his mind.
Sasuke carefully takes the first bite of his own food. It’s good, as he expected; a mixture of salmon, tomato, and salted rice, simple enough to hopefully help settle his stomach. He can kind of taste it.
He chews slowly, reverently, alternating between eating and taking small sips of water as she chatters animatedly. “The flower shop's orders are really taking off now. Ino’s usually busiest once May comes. Hopefully things stay peaceful, so she can stay in the village for the most part; her mom can always use the extra help.”
They wash and dry the dishes together, afterwards, a routine that is beginning to feel familiar. She still doesn’t say anything about the cutting board, but Sasuke greatly appreciates the way it feels in his hand when she gives it to him, weighty and with a designated home under her roof. It slides into place easily in the cupboard with the two others.
They read for a while on her couch again, wrapped in their respective blankets; Sakura keeps her apartment fairly cool. It’s cozy in a way that makes his head feel funny, like he could fall asleep in minutes if he really tried, lulled by the soothing scent of berry and cleanliness. He wonders if it would be restful, if he did. Usually once enough time ellipses, well into the next day, his brain cuts him some slack, though it could be that he's just too exhausted from being up most of the night for the neurons to fire up again to such a frenzy.
Sasuke finishes the last chapter of his book sluggishly and contemplates the ending, a lengthy description of the fisherman gripping the solid railings of the dock with both hands as he comes ashore for the first time in months.
When he flicks his gaze to Sakura tiredly, she’s a third of the way through a new book, titled Among the Ruins: Post-War Reflections. It appears to be a memoir; he assumes it must be one she’s purchased, as it doesn’t have the library label. Perhaps it’s new, picked up this morning while she was out, or it could be one from her bookshelves. He would like to peruse the titles she has, sometime. He drowsily wonders which war it’s about.
He takes a careful breath and just revels in it, being here with her, mere feet away with his eyes closed but able to sense her presence, worn out with thoughts that have edges as frayed as he is. He would like to stay for dinner, too. He thinks it’s perhaps becoming implied that they’ll eat together if she doesn’t have other plans, but he doesn’t want to be rude or overstay his welcome.
Sasuke hopes he can stay awake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said no to tea earlier; the additional caffeine might have helped. He could offer to make them both some, he thinks fuzzily, but then he starts wondering if that would be odd or overstepping. It’s her tea, and her kitchen, and her cups.
Then he sleepily remembers the cutting board.
“You can take a nap, you know,” Sakura murmurs kindly, soft words echoing a little in the stillness of her space. “If you’re tired. I don’t mind.”
He blinks his eyes open, vision adjusting as he realizes he nearly dozed off.
She’s smiling from the other end of the couch. “I can make dinner later, and wake you up when it’s ready. You should rest until then.” She pauses, then adds, “I can grab you a better pillow from my room, if you want.”
His brain catches up to his auditory processing, and then his ears warm.
Oh.
The offer is tempting, though he doesn’t want to be rude. If it were any other day, he would force himself to stay awake, to spend more time with her. But it’s not any other day, and he’s drained, enervated in a way that makes him want to give in. He should ask, to make sure it’s okay, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.
“...Here?”
A flush inks its way onto her cheeks as her expression turns thoughtful. “Yes. Or... you can use my bed, if you want.”
Sasuke forces his gaze away from hers, because his face feels extremely warm all of the sudden. “...I meant… here, at your apartment.”
“Oh.” Sakura laughs in a way that sounds nervous; he hears her fiddling with the book in her lap. “I, um… just meant whatever’s most comfortable.”
When he hesitantly looks back to her, she’s red, too.
“...What will you do?”
She gestures with her hand in a waving motion to indicate it's fine. “I can read, or do some laundry or work stuff. It’s no trouble. Really, Sasuke-kun.” Her blush deepens. "...I would like you to stay… And to have dinner later. If you’re free."
He swallows before slowly nodding his acquiesce, and then Sakura is up and heading to her bedroom in a blink of mismatched eyes. Muffled footsteps pad back moments later, a pillow with a lavender pillowcase clutched in her hands.
Her bedding must be a variant of violet, then, a pastel contrast to the black of his own. He is curious about the color of her bedroom walls all over again, but then she’s handing him the pillow, and he’s too tired to continue thinking.
“...Thank you.”
The smile she wears is so soft, treasured. “You’re welcome.”
He’s out within a few minutes of laying his head on the pillow, drowsing eyes barely catching the lamps flickering off one by one as she meanders around her space.
The pillow smells like her, too, cogent in its beckoning. He sleeps like a rock.
XXX
Sakura nudges him awake hours later, leaning forward to rest her upper body against the back of the couch. The scent of miso and roasted tomatoes drifts into his nostrils while lively jade peers down at him. The light coming from her window has dimmed quite a bit. It must be well into the evening; she let him sleep for a while.
“Dinner’s ready,” she murmurs softly, wearing an expression that is incredibly fond.
He stretches slightly as he rises from her sofa, working out a crick in his shoulder and thinking that he feels much more rested. Sasuke is about to head to her kitchen to get his own bowl, until Sakura turns towards the table, and he sees that she's already set out food for both of them, green market light switched on overhead.
There's onigiri, too, and a steaming cup of sencha placed on his side that he's sure is decaffeinated.
His side.
The realization, albeit a good one, disarms him.
He has a side of her table. And a side of her couch.
Sakura recites a story Hinata told her this morning as they eat, about how Naruto initially buried every single flower bulb in their garden beds six inches deep instead of reading the directions, so they had to dig everything up and salvage the instructions on the package from the trash to replant.
“He mixed them all together, too, instead of planting them in sections like a normal person.” She laughs, and his lips turn upwards in shared amusement. “She said she hopes they didn’t miss one. Iris and echinacea can sometimes multiply out of control. She was happy she didn’t add bee balm to the list, too, or they’d really be in trouble; those can grow anywhere, even in gravel.”
The soup and tea feel good on his throat, and the rice is filling in a way that would be difficult to throw up, absorbent of moisture and chunking together to expand in his stomach until he is full, in more ways than one.
He can taste again, the richness of tomato and miso and calming ubiquitous green on his tongue and in his heart, thoughts of flowers and their idiot teammate helping to cast aside his earlier melancholy.
Sasuke loves her so much in that moment that it physically aches, her voice a balm that puts the rawest parts of him at ease.
"Thank you," he says quietly at the conclusion of the meal, grateful in ways he's not sure he'll ever be able to put into words.
Her response is simple, gentle, pure. “You’re welcome.”
As they wash and dry the dishes together in the dim light of her kitchen, Sakura tells him softly, “I put leftovers in containers for you in the fridge. Please take them with you tonight.”
He nods as his eyes sting with appreciation. When he turns to put away the teacups, he blinks to clear them as she wipes down the sink one last time for the evening.
As she sorts through her movie selection afterwards - it’s her turn to pick - he asks, “How is the poison antidote coming?”
Sakura glances at him curiously for a second from where she’s perched on the wood floor, rifling through the lower cabinet. “I think we might have it solved. Blarina toxin from a southern short-tailed shrew, and then possibly lionfish toxin, laced with algal bloom cyanobacteria. The lionfish toxin is part of the trouble; it’s such a trace amount that it was hard to identify, not enough to cause swelling on the exterior body like you’d see if you were stung by one in person. We’re still running tests, but the neutralization seems to be working on the mice so far.” She blanches a little. “Or, rather, the mice we have left. It’s diminished our stocks; shrew venom is particularly deadly to them.”
Sasuke knew it was likely to kill several of them, but not quite to that extent. He’s interested in her work, so he asks, “How many?”
She turns back to sift through her cabinet as she answers, pulling out another movie to examine. “A gland-full of venom is potent enough to kill up to two hundred of them. It’s why it took us longer than usual; we had to give them the absolute tiniest dose in order to not kill them within hours. I guess it makes sense; they’re one of the things they eat in the wild. The dose in the poison sample was high, though, venom from multiple shrews. A single bite usually isn’t enough to do any harm to humans, but when it’s quadrupled in dosage and laced with other things, it’s more severe.”
“...What’s the treatment?”
Sakura rattles off the extremely complex answer as if it’s nothing. “An antihistamine, steroid, botulinum toxin, and an antibiotic. We’re also giving them blood transfusions and flushing out the blood as it comes to the exterior machine, to get rid of the cyanobacteria. Kind of like conventional water treatment… just more complicated. More steps, filtration, and obviously we can’t use chlorine, so it takes longer.”
Sasuke blinks somewhat in awe. She really is so intelligent.
“...That sounds lengthy.”
She shrugs, movie still in hand. “It is. It’s why we’re not one hundred percent sure if we’ve solved it yet; the lionfish venom is still the weak link, and will be until we can see that the other portions of the treatment have worked to isolate it.”
“...I’d like to learn the process.”
A smile plays at her lips and a flush inks its way onto her cheeks. He supposes it was a roundabout sort of compliment; he could have worded it better, but she seems to have understood him anyway. She does about a lot of things, he thinks.
“I can bring home a kit, sometime, and teach you the basics. It could be useful.”
He nods; he would like that.
There is a long pause as Sakura bites her lip before further examining the movie case in her hand.
Then, she asks, a tentative expression on her face and peeking at him to gauge his reaction, “Want to watch a bad one?”
Sasuke wonders if she knows he would watch any movie with her, if it means he gets to be in her company like this, saved from a room with white tiles or dark wood.
“...Sure.”
She wasn't exaggerating; it is truly terrible, riddled with plot holes so nonsensical that it’s almost funny. The acting is bad, too, though perhaps that’s more to blame on the script rather than the actors.
“Even the camera work is awful,” Sakura says at one point, gesturing towards the left side of the screen. “If you look in the background here, there’s an extra that just… walks into the wall.”
He watches, and sure enough, behind the main characters, a girl walks directly into a corner and just stands there.
He snorts, genuinely enthused in a manner he would not have thought possible hours ago. Sakura laughs at the other end of the couch. It’s a sound he could listen to forever, sweet and chiseled into his heart.
They play an extensive round of go afterwards, venturing well into the night with the plinking of small pieces into place. It’s nearly eleven when she finally walks him to her doorway, two containers of tomato miso soup and onigiri in her hands. As he pulls on his shoes, Sakura sets them by his library book on the console table.
“Would you want to read tomorrow afternoon?” She asks as he rises to his full height.
He nods. “...I’ll meet you here.”
Her dimple makes a reappearance. “One fifteen?”
He inclines his head again in agreement, then decides to ask. It’s becoming easier, now that she has said yes so many times.
“Dinner, after?”
Her smile widens. “Of course. I was thinking gyudon. Light on the sugar. You could…” She bites her lip and shifts a bit. “...You could help me cook, if you’d like.”
Something turns over in his belly. “...Okay.”
She glows at him. He swallows once before reaching out to skim her freckle, enjoying the feel of her cheek against the pad of his thumb.
And then her fingers against his fingers, holding him there against her cheek, soft and steady.
Then he leans down, and his lips are on hers, a breath exhaled in unison as her entryway falls away. Her free hand twists around his neck, delicately brushing the fabric and a fraction of his skin in a way that nearly makes him shiver. It’s a long moment of quietus, a finishing stroke to a day that could have gone very differently.
It is also the longest kiss they’ve shared yet, and it is over far too soon.
He’s pulling away to look at her, letting his hand drop away, when she wraps her arms tenderly around him.
He can hardly breathe, taken off guard by the absolute sensation of comfort he’s enveloped in.
She doesn’t say a thing; just hugs him tight, her fingertips spreading across his back and face pressed to his sternum. Berry invades his olfactory senses.
Slowly he lifts his arm to carefully return the hug, swallowing a tender sort of truth, a kind that goes down easy, the evidence and action of her affection. He can feel Sakura’s heartbeat against his chest, a tempo teeming with life.
They stand there together in her entryway for a long time.
XXX
He sleeps wrapped in a clean comforter, and though it’s not for very long, it is dreamless.
He’s eating leftover onigiri when he receives a mission summons, barely past seven in the morning. He finishes his meal and pops a cough drop in his mouth before departing for the Hokage’s office.
It’s a nice day, he thinks as he walks, coming to a decision as he admires vernal greenery lining the streets. The sun is just lifting over the horizon, painting everything pale amber.
“Sasuke,” Kakashi greets as he walks in; he’s the first one there again, apparently. “Good morning.”
“Kakashi.”
Their old sensei smiles at him in the strange all-seeing manner he has. Sasuke notes the presence of a new picture frame present on his desk, replacing the one he’s given him.
He is extremely grateful to have that picture to grip onto in his darker moments. Sasuke considers thanking him then, for Iron, but then Naruto is barreling in noisily.
“Whaizzit?” He yawns raucously, as if he just woke up, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. They are multi-faceted, too, even in their barely aware state, and Sasuke inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, normalcy shifting fully back into place as the door clicks behind his teammate.
Then Naruto registers that Sasuke is present. “Eh? Teme?!” Cerulean scans the room as if he’s searching for something, then he frowns, directing a lengthy glare Kakashi’s way.
“If you've called me here at seven in the fucking morning for anything that isn’t a Team Seven reunion mission, I’m going to lose it.”
Ah. He was looking for Sakura.
“Afraid not,” Kakashi answers cryptically from his desk, and Naruto’s sleepy glare tightens. Then the Hokage smiles, as if something is incredibly amusing. "Guard duty. Kotetsu and Izumo deserve a break. Things are slow this week, and we have the extra numbers.”
The copy ninja skillfully dodges Naruto’s sandal as it flies towards him. “You’ve got to be kidding. You woke me up for this? You could have told me later in the day or something!!”
“Future Hokages don’t receive special treatment, and it’s professional to give more than twenty-four hours notice if possible.”
Naruto grumbles. "All week?"
Kakashi grins. "Tuesday through Friday."
Inwardly, Sasuke twitches.
"I should specify; nine to six, Tuesday through Friday."
Outwardly, Sasuke twitches.
It's not exactly her work schedule for all four days, but it lines up closely enough that it's fairly obvious what Kakashi’s doing.
Naruto barely reacts; just snorts in a way that is caustic, as if he finds the times unsurprising. "Cool. Can I go back to sleep until it’s time to kick teme’s ass now? Hinata-chan and I were cozy."
Sasuke rolls his eyes; when they spar in the mornings, it’s typically between eight and nine. He’ll have around an hour's extra sleep at best, though he supposes he’s not in any position to judge at this point, given his nap on Sakura’s couch yesterday.
Kakashi’s smile widens, mask wrinkling. "Sure. Dismissed."
They both watch on in faint amusement as Naruto stumbles sleepily out of his office, neglecting to collect his missing shoe.
“...Some things never change,” the Hokage murmurs, sighing.
“...No, they don’t.”
“Well, anyways, before you go…” Kakashi turns to him, tapping the pen at his desk absentmindedly. “How are things?”
Sasuke blinks, recalling leftovers and a new cutting board and the feeling of Sakura’s arms around him.
And kissing. Mostly kissing. Probably too much, if his neck’s sudden warmth is anything to go by.
“Good.”
A lone visible eye crinkles at the corners. “Great. Don’t hesitate to let any of us know if you need anything.”
He lets the words hang in the air for an extended few seconds before nodding slowly.
"I was thinking…” Kakashi continues, gaze flicking down to the photograph on his desk. “...Perhaps we could make Team Seven dinners a monthly thing. It would be good, don’t you think?"
“...Yeah.”
A dark eye locks on him again. "Sai could come, too."
Ah.
"...Sure." He really should make an effort to get to know him better. His replacement seems nice enough, peculiar as he is.
"Wonderful. Let's plan on the first Saturday of every month at six, shall we? If we're all in the village, that is. I’ll let him know when I call him in later this morning."
“Okay.”
A long moment passes, then Kakashi is procuring the shoe from the area behind his desk. Sasuke notes that he holds it as far away from him as his arm will allow.
“...I don’t suppose you’d return this, when you see him later?”
Sasuke says nothing.
“...Though I suppose I could assign it as a mission to some Genin.” Then he's sighing, setting it on the farthest edge of Naruto’s work area. “Too bad I just gave an assignment to my last two.”
Shooting him a withering look, Sasuke departs the Hokage’s Office. He gets the distinct feeling as he goes that Kakashi is incredibly pleased with himself, solidified by what he calls after him.
“Tell Sakura I say hi.”
Guard duty is easy in theory, but spending thirty six hours with the dobe may be… a challenge. He supposes if the reward is being able to see Sakura after she works most of those days, he'll take it. He's sure Kakashi won't keep him in the village forever; eventually duty will call him away for extended periods of time.
It solidifies his decision; he should take the opportunity of being here to plant something.
He stops by the market vendor on the northern end to buy two packages of lily bulbs on his way home. The market is fairly slow, so there are few other people around.
The packages feel good in his hand, lighter than he expected.
Sasuke works through a section of one of his other books before Naruto shows up on his doorstep, still appearing for all intents and purposes half asleep. Their spar ends in another draw; luckily there are no cracked bones this time.
He eats more leftovers for lunch after, appreciating the taste.
XXX
Sasuke feels at home in Sakura’s kitchen, cutting scallions easily while she broils beef and prepares the egg mixture for gyudon just a few steps away. The meal comes together quickly between the two of them, savory with a sauce that is heavier on the mirin and sake than the sugar.
Food they prepare together somehow tastes even better. It’s late when they finally sit down to eat dinner, gazing out through glass at the streets below as they take their first bites.
The sauce is perfect; not too sweet.
“...I have guard duty this week,” he mentions after a while.
“With who?” She asks, though her lips twitch upwards.
He rolls his eyes. “...Guess.”
She bites her lip, and he tears his gaze away from her mouth and up to her eyes. The green is filled with mirth, twinkling with illuminated flecks.
“Good luck,” she says sincerely. “What times?”
He glances away, ears warming and wondering if Kakashi has mentioned anything to her about them being… together.
“Tomorrow through Friday, nine to six.”
There is a long pause. When he peeks back at her, she’s blushing.
“...Kakashi-sensei is nosy.” Sakura takes another bite of her food, looking shy for some reason, and suddenly Sasuke is certain that their sensei has said something to her, perhaps on multiple occasions. He wonders what.
“...He is.” He thinks, then adds as an afterthought, “...He says hi.”
They do the dishes together and play two rounds of chess. Sakura wins once, and the second round is another stalemate, though he suspects he was close to beating her.
It’s close to nine by the time they’re putting the board away. As he works on packing up the last of the pieces to store in their allocated compartment, he notices she’s gazing out the window, scanning the sky as if distracted.
The way she’s angled puts the freckle on her cheek in plain view, pale hair loosely tucked behind her ear.
Then she turns to him, pink flooding her complexion, and Sasuke realizes he’s been staring, the remaining few pieces still clutched in his hand, frozen in midair in his distraction. He hastily finishes putting them away as his own face warms. Sakura rises from the table to put the box away, footsteps echoing softly through her living space.
He looks outside quizzically for a moment, embarrassedly trying to will the color away from his face and wondering what she was looking at. It’s a clear evening, calm without a cloud in sight.
"I was wondering if…"
His vision snaps to her expectantly across the room, and her cheeks flush darker; he can see it even though it’s dimly lit, shifting from one foot to the other. She seems nervous.
"If you would maybe want to… go stargazing for a bit tonight?"
His pulse quickens, pushing at the seams of chambers and ventricles in a way that makes it feel like the vines have twisted their way in, taking hold of whatever they can clutch.
She apparently does still like that sort of thing.
And she wants to go with him.
He nods immediately, struck speechless with elation before he manages to form the question, "...Where?"
Her expression is one of relief. "I was thinking just outside the village. There’s…” She looks away, smiles. “There’s a place Ino and I go to sometimes; we went today for a bit, after training. There are wild lilacs blooming right now.” She shifts her gaze to him again. “It's supposed to be a little cooler, but the sky’s clear. We could bring tea in a thermos; I have two."
Heat creeps up his neck as he agrees, heart stammering in his chest a little, because he’s started thinking about it now, and stargazing together is very clearly romantic in nature, amongst flowers even more so.
Sakura brews tea for the both of them as he distracts himself by slicing a lemon for hers. When he glances at her surreptitiously, she’s still blushing, and jade eyes snap away as if this time she’s the one that’s been caught staring. That makes his heart pound, to the extent that he’s glad she’s a few feet away, because it’s so loud that she might hear it.
They meander to the edge of the village as evenfall settles, into the forested area just beyond the gates. As Sasuke trails behind her, divagating through subtly flattened pathways between the trees, his thoughts wander to bygone seasons.
There once was a pond, three quarters of a mile outside of the village, beyond where the Uchiha District used to be. It wasn’t officially a part of their grounds, but it was remote enough that it wasn’t easily happened upon by anyone other than their family, off the beaten path and through thicket and thistle as it was.
Itachi used to take him fishing there.
He thinks they’d gone four or five times in all, but he remembers it well, because he had been terrible at fishing, not a shred of patience. His brother caught most of them, but he would sometimes set the hook before passing off the reel to Sasuke to help him learn. It was quiet, peaceful in the way that only the wilderness is, away from the pressures of expectations. Wildflowers poked up everywhere in the later summer months, situated on a hill towards the far side of the pond. They picked some together for their mother, once; Sasuke clutched them in his hands while they made the trek back to the village, Itachi carrying their bucket of perch and bass.
It was nice in the autumn, too, warm tones flooding everything. One could sit in the swaying overgrowth flush with falling leaves for hours taking it all in and still not see it all, an overwhelmingly pure sense of peace, made heartier by the taste of freshly grilled fish later in the evening.
The walk had seemed like it took forever back then, on short legs looking upward. He’s never returned to that place, not once, since he was eight. It would hurt too much, for different reasons now than when he was twelve.
He remembers passing wild lilacs then, too, on the way there and back. He supposes they probably thrive in the chaparral throughout Fire Country, if one cares to traipse through the foliage to look for them. He stumbled upon many on his journey, just passing through on roads less traveled.
The small clearing Sakura leads them to reminds him of the pond a little, wild and flush with fading hues, framed by fragrant lilacs in bloom as she said, but there are no memories tied to it yet, so it’s better. Huge bushes of them grow unaided here, wispy purple redolence scattered by the wind into the earth's cracks, ushered in by whispers through the trees.
The wilds are not so far from Konoha, really. Like the cherry blossom tree on the hill, it's a good reminder that some things can grow easily even on rougher terrain.
Sasuke sits rather close to her, so they can drink their tea together. The sun slips just below the horizon, a cloudless sky awash in a shifting gradient. He catches jade as he takes a drink, appreciating the taste, a small bit of warmth on a cool night.
The way she’s looking at him makes his heart rate accelerate again, a serene expression that implies there is nothing she would rather be doing right now than be here.
With him.
Eventually stars begin inking into existence overhead one by one, the last bit of sun lingering just on the horizon, a muted blur of violet bleeding into black. Things are slightly clearer here, beyond the boundaries of the village, no glass or light pollution to obscure the retinas.
Once she finishes her tea, Sakura lies down the same way she does on the hill, so he does, too, trying to calm his heart rate, because he is very close to her, just within reach. The forest breathes around them, coating everything in a lilac perfume.
He used to think about her, when he looked to the stars, feeling worlds away and wondering if she thought of him that day. Being next to her is better, revered, the calm din of an evening he has craved for a long time.
When he turns to steal a look, her eyes are already on him, and there is something about that moment, as the last light fades, being here with her, that makes his chest go aflame.
And then Sakura turns slightly, reaching out towards him with her right hand, and he blinks.
She sweeps his hair away from his Rinnegan eye, a thumb gently skimming his cheek as he has hers, before her hand falls away. Though they are cloaked in the gloaming of dusk’s darkness, enough he hopes to hide the warmth that has crept into his face, there is adequate light left to see her expression, so tender, jade eyes desaturated to dark sage.
He feels seen in a way that he hasn’t felt before, recalling soft words in an exam room.
Not me.
The sky is fully lit in short order, beautiful and dark with only a tiny sliver of the moon visible. It is truly lovely, Ursa Major, Leo, and Hydra scattered before them like a painting a million years old, ageless messengers traveling from who knows where, as he did. It took many steps to get here to her, scattered revolutions passing wide arcs around the sun, yearning for a day to close the gap, to feel like he was close to ready.
It was worth every single one.
A question is on the tip of his tongue, so he decides to ask it, to give in to the impulse.
“...Any poems?” He wants to learn the words she likes, what kinds of meaning she applies to things, intelligent as she is. Sasuke imagines the inner workings of Sakura’s mind to be quite complex, teeming with all of the things she’s read, research and fiction and nonfiction. He would like to know her favorite pieces of poetry, what she holds dear in her own heart.
She shifts slightly; he thinks she must be looking at him for a split second.
There is a lengthy silence punctuated by crickets before she finally answers, “A short one,” voice hushed like the breeze around them; if he wasn’t so close to her, he wouldn’t be able to hear.
He shifts his gaze to her on his right, barely able to make out her silhouette in the dark.
“Take notice of what light does - to everything.”
The words sink into him like rain on freshly tilled soil, triggering a bricolage of recollections. Instantly he is reminded of light through the window of his bathroom, stirring him from a pit of self doubt and guilt. Then light through the windows of Sakura’s apartment, cooking and doing the dishes together in her kitchen. A nap, comfortable on her couch as day fades into dusk, lamps switched off for a period of much needed rest. Flowers, grown by a doorstep with the sun’s rays seeping in through diamond patterning. The shadow of a jasmine plant, inked onto her cheekbone, and neon lights reflectant atop pale pink hair.
The intricate stitching of an uchiwa fan, thread catching iridescence as she holds it daintily in her hands as if it is something important, to be cherished.
Her eyes when she is happy, hints of gold flecks, catching like fractals of color atop shifting seafoam.
The way white nerine lilies looked drenched in sunlight, on days that are decidedly not summer monsoons.
Stars are a form of light, too, and despite being far away, they are refulgent in their luminosity, a beauty that cuts through murk and offers much for contemplation; the gaps of darkness between them are what allows people to make meaning out of them, constellations strewn together.
He is home, surrounded by spring. It is something to behold.
“...Did you write letters to Naruto?” Sakura asks after a lengthy period of reflection, so softly that her voice is almost a whisper.
The concept is so ridiculous to him that he would snort, if not for the moment they are sharing right now and the way she asked it, no hint of a joke in her tone.
So he answers seriously, just as quietly. “No.”
There is a long pause.
“...And Kakashi-sensei?”
Ah. He understands what she’s really asking. “...Other than missions, no.”
It’s hard to tell, but he thinks he sees her fingers grip in the grass next to her, gently as if in reflex.
Sasuke tries very hard to swallow his doubts.
When they were on missions as Genin, she used to lay sprawled out like this, hands spread next to her. So did Naruto. It bothered him then, because he liked his folded together on his stomach and he was very particular about personal space, which they both invaded.
Sasuke doesn’t have another hand to fold his with anymore, though, and he’s less concerned about personal space with her than he used to be. The darkness helps bolster his confidence, too, nyctophile that he is; she won’t see the heat that’s spreading to his face here, lit merely by distant flickering stars.
Take notice of what light does - to everything.
The luminaries above them offer only a little of it, yet it's a transfixing sight, something of the epochal and the divine present that he has been drawn to for years.
So he reaches out to skim her hand with his, a tentative sort of constellation in itself, recorded in points of contact and palm prints on the skin rather than etched in alembic light in the sky.
There are soft fingertips, a knuckle gently gliding by. Then she’s interlacing her fingers with his, and suddenly it’s not tentative at all. It’s leal, steady, her small hand in his as if it has always belonged there, the scent of flourishing blooms wafting around them and painting everything in his head lilac starlight.
Her thumb brushes his skin once, twice, thrice, achingly gentle.
He should have reached out sooner, but he supposes they’re young, still. There is a lot of time ahead of them. The stars will align eventually, slow in their revolutions around common centers of mass as he is in letting people in. She accepted his apology for being late already, fine fingertips clutching an uchiwa fan with a touch just as gentle as now.
If he can only hold her hand in the dark, maybe that’s enough for now, a single star he can reach. He hopes he'll reach the others eventually.
Hours pass with her hand in his, and he is a small bit closer in revolution by the time he walks her home.
Lilac and raspberry and starlight coalesce against his lips when they collide with hers, an allegorical perfume he could easily get drunk on. He skims the freckle again, tenderly osculant, and realizes that is the start of a constellation, too, a novitious star burning brighter every time he reaches out. Kissing makes three.
Her hands around his neck make four. This time he does shiver, but he doesn’t pull away.
Sakura’s lips are so soft.
XXX
He plants the lily bulbs shortly after they say good night, under the cover of the caliginous dark that shepherds in the dew of the morning, tiny drops of moisture beginning to collect on nearby blades of grass. The stars are still out, bright enough to be beautiful but dim enough so that he can’t read the names.
Sakura would help him if he asked, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet. He settles for trying to make his touch as gentle yet sure as hers, an elegy of calloused fingers digging carefully through the dirt, grasping and placing lily bulbs one by one. There are four bulbs in total, so he plants two on each side, nine inches apart, allowing them to poke up through the soil slightly and frame the stone; he reread the instructions when he stopped by his apartment earlier. It’s a different brand of corrosion, manually digging up layers of dirt rather than hoping they slough off, but it’s progress, and it doesn't require digging too deep.
There has to be something beneath the layers of sediment, he thinks, to feel the way he does about her. He hopes that what he feels is enough, that his slow revolutions will be worthwhile for her, in the end.
I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.
Being in Konoha is not easy, after everything, but being with Sakura is.
When he’s lying in his own bed a short time later, he recalls the love in her fingertips against his. It lulls him to sleep.
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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago
Text
HASO, “Perfect Timing.”
Alright everyone. I am beginning to realize that maybe expecting myself to write a story every week day with a job and trying to get into grad school and writing a second novel might be a bit..... excessive?
So I am going to try for three times a week. I hope you all stick around :)
And I hope you enjoy today’s story as well. 
Adam stood with his hands behind his back, feet spread to shoulder width. He would never have noticed by himself, but the men and women around him stood a little straighter and stepped a little faster under his watchful eye. Once upon a time they might have only hastened their work if he directly asked them too, but just his mere presence these days could send his crew scurrying to do their work. He hadn’t really changed anything about the way he commanded his men. He was firm when he needed to be but allowed for brevity when it would suit the situation.
However, a few years and some tough lessons was slowly shaping him into the kind of man who could command thousands, sharp posture, calm confidence, and a keen eye. 
But then again anyone who could appear professional while wearing high top heelies was a man to be reckoned with.
Sunny walked up next to him her pearlescent white armor glowing under the light as she leaned on the shade of her matching spear. Her head was held high like his. Where once she had been locked up, and defensive, she now stood with the calm confidence of someone who understood what control meant.
Together they had come a long way.
She tilted her head, “You really think he’s going to let you race this…. It’s a million dollar piece of military hardware, they don’t stand a chance.”
Adam didn’t move, hands still clasped behind his back as he  stared up at the F-90 Darkfire he was preparing for the race, “I wouldn’t be so sure…. I’ll be lucky to come in last place.”
Sunny frowned confused, “I saw those shuttles, they were junk shows.”
He lifted his head as the F-90 was rolled across the deck.
“This is a race, it isn’t combat. She was built for dogfights which means she is going to be heavier than the others. Wing tip to wing tip she is also going to be a little longer than the other shuttles and jets making maneuvering around obstacles more difficult. Sure she likely has a more powerful engine, but that can be as much of a detriment as it is a leg up.”  He gestured in the vague direction of the race course, “We are going to be racing through the planet’s smaller rocky ring. It has an unusual amount of larger, thick chunks which we are going to have to manuver around: the kind of conditions you might see in science fiction movies when they talk about an asteroid field. Asteroid fields are generally too far apart to cause any real issue, but here the rocks are dense, and my flying is going to have to be on pont, having a more powerful engine is going to make her more touchy, and my fitness on the controls is going to have to be absolute.”
Sunny tilted her head listening as he continued. She liked it when this side of him came out. There was something about the analytical, logical side of Adam she found….. Very appealing.
He walked forward to examine the jet himself, “Furthermore, I don’t know if you noticed, but there were a few jets there that weren’t exactly junk shows. A few of them were pretty top of the line, and most of them were built for racing. Lighter, sleeker, faster, and with more engine control than mine.
A lot of my maneuverability is lost out of the atmosphere. This isn’t about how well you can manipulate wind currents, this is going to be all about the very minute rotation of the rear and and wing engines. Their wings are smaller and closer in meaning they are going to rotate more easily than me.
She walked up with him and put a hand on his shoulder, “You forgot to fact in one thing.”
He frowned and looked up, “Oh, what did I miss.”
She smiled slightly, “The skill of the pilot, and I know for a fact that we have the best pilot this side of Andromeda. You can have the best plane in the world, but if you have a shit pilot, then a good pilot in a flying trash can has a chance of winning.”
He Smiled, “Thanks, I needed that.”
He stepped back, “Still it doesn't pay to be too cocky. I have a feeling these people have raced this before, they are going to know what they are dealing with, and I am going tinto this completely blind. This is a test to see if my instincts are better than their practice…. Who knows it could be a very close run thing.”
He moved forward to do an extra check on the outside of the ship despite having a whole team of people to do it for him. Adam had learned to delegate a lot of his responsibilities onto others to avoid burnout, but this was one thing he never left to other people. He came back after a thorough check of the ship and stopped next to her.
His head was tilted to one side as he looked at the machine sitting before him.
“It is missing something.”
Sunny turned her head to look at him, “What?”
He smiled, “Do we have anyone here who has experience with graffiti?”
***
Donavan Red met him when he entered the hanger, wearing his flight suit and holding his helmet under one arm. He had gone for some of his more simple equipment. Didn’t want to give the guy an excuse to blame his skill on technology.
Red looked him over.
“Nice suit, princess.”
Adam just smiled thinly looking around at the other pilots, “I see I might be under-dressed.”
To be far though, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would have described the dress code, if he had to put it on an invitation. 
The most apt description seemed to have been.
Dress for Pissing contest.
The men and women wore their uniforms in the same way NASCAR drivers might, covered in logos and patterns. Some of them were clearly custom ordered with personal designs on the backs or the helmets, some sporting flames, others cartoon animals, one guy was just covered in black and white skulls.
The affect up close was ok, but from a distance he just looked like an over excited dalmatian, or maybe some kind of flamboyant cow.
A few of them went for color themes, neon red on black. Neon green on blue.
Most of them tried to coordinate with the matching colors on their ship, each trying to outdo the next.
Red smirked.
The docking bay light began to blink red as the airlock was engaged, and the all turned to watch as the doors opened, and Adam’s jet rolled into the docking bay. She was simultaneously both very impressive and very not impressive. She was an instrument of war, and he rockets lined up on either side of her wings said as much. Adam had once considered her rather sleek in comparison to other jets of the day, but looking at her now in comparison with the racing planes and he couldn’t help but compare her to a pitbull or a bulldog next to greyhounds or whippets.
She rolled up slowly and Red raised an eyebrow.
“A whose guy huh?”
Adam smirked, “I don’t know, I kind of like it.”
They both looked up as the F-90 stopped in place, and along her side in delicate blue cursive script was the name Cinderella. The man who had done the graffiti  had even taken the time to add some stylized pink roses to the front and end of the word giving it a finished look.
Donavan seemed both amused and annoyed at the same time.
The men and women around him turned to look over ridicule dying on their lips as they saw the smirk on his face.
It was made pretty clear.
He was going to beat them, and when he beat them, he was going to have a princess logo on the side of his jet, never mind all of their cool paint jobs.
Donavan frowned but then turned to everyone, “Alright load up!.” Adam did as ordered, switching seats with the young pilot in the cockpit and strapping himself in. he adjusted his controls, did a quick once over, and then pulled some power from his engine.  There was going to be an overwhelming desire to go fast, but he knew that speed wasn’t going to win him this race.
The jets began lining up next to each other, and to his surprise, one of the sleek racing models sidled up next to him, and when he looked over, he saw Donovan Red cambering into the cockpit.
That didn’t exactly bode well, but what was there to do about it.
He felt cool oxygen spilling  onto his mouth and nose as the orange tinted visor dropped down over his eyes. He opted not to use the heads up display preferring to see everything around him as he was flying. 
They were all in a line now, and up ahead a large projection appeared on the docking bay doors.
Red lights began to blink as the docking bay was cleared of everyone except for the jets.
The image of a woman appeared on the screen before them.
It was one of the women he had seen before in her cut off jean shorts and tight tank top.
“Ladies and gentlemen start - your - ENGINES!”
All around him the room was filled with a roar as the group of people pushed their engines to an idle.
He could feel the jet underneath him as it thrummed and whined vibrating into his gloves and down into his skin.
His very bones could feel the trembling.
“The course is simple, one lap around the rocky interior ring of the planet. Rules are only this, no leaving the ring, no weapons, and no teams, every man for himself. If the race moderators see any of this, you will be thrown from the race.”
She smiled and leaned back to reveal two green flags in either hand.
She began to wave them.
“On your mark!”
He took a deep calming breath forcing his hand to relax.
“Get set.”
He felt his heart beating  hard against his ribcage, his stomach crawled up into his throat, and he felt the sudden and overwhelming need to pee.
“GO!”
THe airlock doors shot open faster than they should have been able, a clear sign someone had bypassed safety protocols. Caught off guard by this, Adam shot out of the gate slower than he would have liked. Already the racing  jets streaked ahead, their quicker sleeker designs looking right at home against the blackness of space.
He had to remind himself that in space, without wind resistance, sleek didn’t mean shit.
If he was good enough he could have piloted a brick to win.
He gave more joice to the engine and shot forward. He cut under one of his other opponents and then cythed up next to a second.
He was there for only a moment when he saw something coming in from his right.
Instincts had him move fast, and he turned horizontal  shooting upwards just as another jet tried to push him out. He was flying over the two of them now, and gave another burst shooting forward and past them.
This open stretch was the only time he was going to be able to use the power of his engine to his advantage, so he gave her a little more juice and shot forward catching up quickly with the racing models at the front. Two of them cut sideways attempting to block his path. He cursed, forced to fire his engines backwards so as not to go crashing into them. 
The ring was approaching quickly now, and he could see very clearly that they had not been kidding. The belt was dense, less mate out of fine sand, and instead made up of billions of rocks some the size of him, others the size of cars, and even some the size of large houses. It was the strangest sort of formation he had ever seen around a planet, and he wondered idly how they stayed in orbit.
The two jets ahead of him cut right and then left as a rock came barreling towards him.
He shouted and rolled to the side barely avoiding a head on collision, his instincts saving him where his active brain could not.
He snarled.
“Pull it together.”
There was no time to be thinking, there was only time for flying.
WIth a practiced hand he toggled a switch on the side of his thumb, and his helmet was suddenly filled with the sound of music and drums. His brain focused inward and stopped thinking. He shot over and then under rolling between rocks just inches away on either side. Off to his right the planet below was glowing with the light of it’s star, a lightning blue halo around it where the atmosphere glowed.
He cut the left dove down and then rolled up.
He could see the other jets ahead of him cutting in and out through the rocks. His breathing grew even, his body relaxed, his brain heard nothing but the beat of the music and saw nothing but the obstacles ahead of him.
One of the jets pulled up next to him from behind recklessly rolling around one of the rocks. They were racing wing tip to wing tip now.
They cut right and left under and over he rolled left they rolled right. They were shaky just hanging on, but his flying was smooth.
Up ahead one of the other jets lit up with glowing orange as a set of flares broke from it’s back end shatting against the debris behind it.  Rocks were thrown off their normal course and went smashing into each other turning the rock field ahead of them into a meat grinder. Adam shot forward and dived downward while rolling tight, behind him the racer was unable to replicate the move and a piece of rock caught their wing sending them spinning off to the side and out of the ring.
Adam dodged a piece of debris coming in from his left, flipped upside down and shot diving upward and then righting himself just under the jet up front.
He could see the leader now, and recognized it as Red himself .
The jet above him attempted to drop down and knock him out of position, but he gave a burst to the engine and shot forward.
The jet behind him punched downward and nearly collided into a rock before pulling back into the palace.
Adam took their place in second.
Red could see him coming.
Another set of flares was released.
He checked his forward momentum and rolled three or four times to his right. G forces tugged at his consciousness forcing blackness to the edge of his vision. He tightened the muscles of his chest and stomach forcing blood back up into his head as he breathed out in short controlled bursts.
A rock flew overhead, he cut low, bumped up and then executed a rolling turn over a massive rock pulling in behind red and just up to the right to avoid another burst of flares.
The two of them were fighting for the front now.
And red was good, he knew how to handle a jet, but so did Adam.
They roared past a field of rocks splitting apart as a massive chunk came between them. Adam roared forward, and panicked for a single moment as he saw an impenetrable wall of rock appear just before him. Then a crack appeared. He fired the forward engine and cut horizontal passing through an opening that left him only feet to spare. Rock rose up to meet him, and he rotated his engine up dropping vertically before cutting sideways and passing under a rock. Teeth gritted, he punched upward passing through a gap just as it closed behind him.
A yell of exertain escaped his lips as he pulled straight up cutting up the side of a massive mansion-sized rock before diving right back down into the thick of it.
Red was gone, he didn’t see him anymore.
Was he up front?
And then the sleek black jet dropped down from above cutting him off.
He cursed and swerved low past another rock forced to cut diagonal back into line.
He pulled up wing to wing with the men again.
They dove, they pulled up and they took a wide turn ac coordinated together as a military formation never more than four feet apart.
They were going faster than they probably should have reacted. second by second he rolled left Red went right. They both met in a dive rolling past each other, wings almost touching before cutting upwards mirroring each other in opposite directions. The sound of the music melded with the path of his flight.
They were racing side by side just as one of the other jets roared over them careening out of control in a desperate attempt t o reach front. They watched him dive pull up cut left, and then a rock rolled right into their path. The two of them barely had time to react as the rock hit their right wing and then sent them slamming into the next boulder. There was an eruption and a brief ball of fire as oxygen was consumed from inside the cockpit. Debris blossomed up around them in a miniature explosion.
Adam greeted his teeth, eyes wide .
What was once a race suddenly turned into a battlezone. He and Red dove together rolling around the debris desperately trying to avoid getting cut in two. At these speeds, one hit would be the death of them. His heart raced in his chest as he pulled forward cutting  in the triangle made by three boulders side by side. Red mirrored him below.
A chunk of metal shot towards him, and he toggled his right wing burst just in time, lowering his left side just in time for the chunk to go flying past him. He pulled up with a gasp as a massive chunk of rock cut up before him. Red shot below and he rolled over the top coming into second place.
Up ahead a mining barge ascended through the line of rocks.
Adam roared with exertion as he pulled up and leveled out shooting right under the attached arm of the barge. Red lights erupted over it’s hull in a proximity warning as he went just inches overhead.
The barge driver, clearly spooked twisted to the side and the arm of the barge rolled with it, catching a boulder and sending it flying towards the grouping next to it, there was a sudden explosion of rock and again he was forced to roll to the side. Up down, over and under, cything between lines of rock.
He was almost hit once, then twice.
He toggled the forward engines, slowing himself down and then shooting straight up before continuing forward.
The rocks around him were rolling unpredictably colliding and then exploding into smaller pieces. There was no way he was making it through that alive.
He was rolling diving spinning twisting, and then, he felt it…. Something he had only felt on occasion. The world around him went silent, everything seemed to slow, and he was filled with…. With a feeling. It was like light, bursting out from his chest, rolling up through his skin and into his head.
He entered a moment of perfect execution. He cut into a tight roll his wings cything through the minute gaps between debris with timing so perfect it shouldn't have been humanly possible. Rocks passed by him at hundreds of miles an hour inches away  from the glass of his canopy, one wrong move and he’d be dead. He cut through a gap that gave him inches on either side rolld right dove down, turned left, spun once and then twice, and made a completely vertical ascent. Rocks flew past him on his right and on his left.
Up ahead he could see a gap slowly closing before him. He opened up his engine and shot forward so fast everything was a blur.
The rocks collided behind him as they snapped shut, and he flew into the clear firing forward to slow himself, and then red was there too descending from above spinning and wobbling, almost out of control and careening directly towards a house sized boulder.
He panicked firing up and down at the same time and sending him into a spin.
He was heading directly towards the rock .
WIthout thinking Adam locked onto the rock, and fired. A rocket under his wing detached and shot forward exploding violently just in time for Red to pass through unharmed. Red jolted awkwardly and rolled to one side. Adam cut past under from right to left and rolled straight over red to avoid a rock.
There was a moment where the two of them were staring at each other through the clear canopy.
Eyes met for an instant, and Adam could see the wide eyed fear on the man’s face., Then Adam rolled ahead ducking under the last rock and then bursting out into space.
He let the F-90 have her moment, and completely opened the engine shooting forward and cutting through the finish line which flashed bright green. In that moment He was hit with such a sense of exhilaration and joy that he couldn't imagine anything better. Who needed drugs, who needed love, who needed any of that when you could fly.
Hed did a triumphant loop whooping the whole way.
Of course, a feeling like that can never last long and slowly began to fade away. THe reality of what he had just done was both terrifying and amazing to the point he felt his body begging to shake. The tension and fear he had been holding back exploded inside him just like that joy and he found his hands trembling on the joystick.
He let it overtake him. He had been like this since he was young and fighting it would only make things worse. Despite his shaking hands he flew back to the docking bay and landed his jet with the precision of a surgeon. Finally when the engine was off and the flood stable underneath him he slumped back in his seat shaking and racked with rolling tremors. He closed his eyes and breathed long and slow.
Behind him the others came limping in.
None of them were completely unscathed, at least one person was dead. His hands continued to shake as the airlock doors shut, and as soon as the room was pressurized, he opened the cockpit. As soon as it did, Sunny came running into the room and up the ladder. SHeleft her spear on the floor and helped him to climb out.  His legs were shaking and he almost fell if it weren’t for her support.
She knew him too well, sitting him down on the lowest step and kneeling next to him.
“Are you ok?”
He grinned at her, “That was…. Holy shit.”
He held up his hand to watch the shaking, “I’m having an earthquake.”
It was just then that Red jumped out of his jet onto the floor. He staggered when he did but pushed away the men who tried to help, “What the ever loving FUCK just happened. The field had NEVER been like that. Jaz DIED out there, what the FUCK.” 
The people milled around in confusion.
Red turned to him, eyes narrowing as he stalked over. Adam sighed and looked up as the man stopped to stand over him
“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”
The man paused confused, “What?”
“I broke the rules. Means I forfeit.”
Red looked almost nonplussed, “What are you on about?”
Adam slowly took to his feet taking a few more deep wreaths to steady himself before drawing to his full height. He was stead now and looked down at Red with an unwavering gaze. He held out a hand, “I used weapons during the race, that was against the rules. These weren’t flares to move the rocks. I used a targeted missile during the race and that means I broke the rules.”
Red stared at him.
Then he snorted, “Damn the rules. You saved my ass.” he turned to look at his people, “I am more than man enough to acknowledge that.” HE turned back to Adam, “You saved my life you crazy bastard. I am not even sure how you are still alive ….. Because that flying…. That was….. Holy fuck.” He grinned and took Adam by the shoulder, “you shaking, man.” He held up his hand to show a tremor, “Me too, now let's go get some drinks and talk this out. I owe you after all.”
The two of them walked off through the forest of shaken pilots, “You are the kind of man I can see myself doing business with.”
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sadclearance · 4 years ago
Note
could u do male reader's been friends with todoroki from mha for since ua (they're newly pros now) and tells him ily and is like ik ur not good with that stuff tho so it's no big! i don't expect an ily back! and todoroki's like :O and doesn't say it back but later when reader's hurt during a mission todoroki's like oh dang i do love u but it's too late cuz he died
pairing: shoto todoroki x male!reader
summary: todoroki says "i love you" back eventually. it just happens to be too late.
category: angst
warning(s): death
word count: 1649
key:
s/t - skin tone
italicized - text
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he's not sure how he got to this exact moment.
if you had told him at the beginning of his high school years that not even just a year after graduating, he'd be running around a deserted parking lot with the cold breeze of the night air nipping at the skin that wasn't covered by his pajamas--which happen to be from a two-years-old matching christmas set with the person he's trying to catch--todoroki would've looked at you as if you were a lunatic.
never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine this.
but he thinks this is part of what being friends is, and back then, he never would've dreamt of having one of those either.
he doesn't notice the warm breath right next to his ear until a steady voices says, loud and clear, "i love you."
he turns his head so fast his face almost smacks into y/n's, and y/n laughs out visible puffs in the crisp air.
todoroki doesn't even speak. he just stares with wide eyes, not knowing what to do.
this is all just too new to him, and this came out of absolutely nowhere.
"glad that got your attention," y/n smiles when the silence continues. "you were so lost in your thoughts you just stopped moving. i was starting to think you didn't want your phone back."
todoroki now remembers the reason why he was chasing his best friend of four years around an empty parking lot at this ungodly hour, where half of his body was uncomfortably cold.
he does want his phone back, but he doesn't go back to running.
"was that why you said that?" todoroki eventually asks. was it only for the surprise factor? because if so, he's both relieved and disappointed--two things that he recognizes as contradictory and doesn't understand. well, todoroki's never been too good at understanding feelings, so that's not really news.
"nope," y/n answers without skipping a beat, and if todoroki didn't know better, he'd think y/n wasn't nervous at all. the s/t fingers playing with the edge of todoroki's phone case lets him know otherwise. "don't take it too seriously, though. i get it."
get what?
that answer doesn't make todoroki happy at all. now his brain's just muddled and confused, and he can barely process his surroundings. what's he supposed to make of that interaction? don't take it too seriously? he gets it?
when y/n's ran a lap or two without todoroki making a move to get his phone back, he lies down on the floor.
todoroki settles on "you're going to get dirty" because he wants to get back to the present. his head hurts, and thinking isn't getting him anywhere right now.
"come look at the stars with me," y/n reaches his hand up toward the skies, and he looks ridiculous, but todoroki complies because he wants to enjoy the time they have together for as long as he can. they won't have time to see each other for a while, being busy growing heroes and all. 
"is this considered stargazing?"
"we're gazing at the stars, so yeah, i'd say so," y/n jokes.
and now todoroki's out of things to say that aren't questions about y/n's confession.
y/n turns his head to look at todoroki, and todoroki instinctively does the same.
"you're taking that thing i told you not to take seriously seriously, aren't you?"
"i'm having trouble understanding everything you've said in the past few minutes," todoroki admits, turning his head back to face the stars again.
"okay, well, i love you," y/n says.
"you've said that, but--"
"but i don't want you to take it seriously because i get it."
"again, you've said that in almost those exact words." todoroki feels like a frustrated child who's getting cranky over a math problem he doesn't know how to solve.
"i love you in the way that i want to kiss you and go on dates with you and maybe do more stuff," y/n's face reddens at his own words, but his voice is firm.
todoroki's eyes go back to y/n's, and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"i know you don't see me that way, and it's all good. i didn't expect anything in return. i just wanted to say it."
"i... i wish i could give you a response, but... you already know that..." todoroki struggles with his words. were these the right ones to say? which are supposed to come out next?
"that you're not good with people stuff. yeah, i remember the first year of me trying to court you into this friendship," y/n laughs.
todoroki wants to laugh while reminiscing the memories too, but he doesn't feel like doing so, especially with how he's pretty sure he just rejected his best friend.
"i told you, no expectations here. just wanted to get that off my chest." y/n rises from the floor and todoroki's eyes follow. "c'mon, we should get going. it's cold, and our schedules are packed for the week. we can't afford to be getting sick."
"yes, it is late," todoroki nods and gets up as well.
the car beeps to signal that the doors are open, and todoroki's about to get into the driver's seat when he sees y/n walking off somewhere else.
"y/n?" todoroki calls out.
"i'm gonna take the bus," y/n answers before todoroki even asks.
"they aren't running at this hour."
"my place is close. i'm gonna walk."
"but--"
"text me if your schedule clears at all!" y/n waves without turning around to face todoroki.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
it's been a week, and todoroki still feels the pressure of having to give a proper response.
y/n said it was fine, but even someone with as little experience with these types of things as todoroki recognizes that it's not kind.
i haven't thought about--
i've never kissed anyone--
human relationships--familial, romantic, platonic, and otherwise are all things that are new to me--
no matter what he types, he feels like the words are all wrong. what's in his drafts are all things that y/n already knows. that's why he said he "gets it".
but todoroki's still so frustrated. he wants to respond properly. he feels like it's only right.
but holy shit is it hard to come up with anything at all.
before he can come up with another poorly worded apology, excuse--whatever it is that he's trying to say--he gets a notification.
assistance required in x prefecture. requesting all available heroes.
todoroki, being the good hero he is, rushes to the sight as soon as possible.
he recognizes the name of the location, but he brushes it off as past experience. after all, within the past year, due to his rising popularity, he's had a lot of opportunities to work in different places.
"what's the situation?" todoroki asks one of the heroes that's trying to stabilize the building that the villain appeared to be in.
"one guy with a geokinesis quirk. he's alone, but his quirk's pretty strong. took out the whole village one town over. we don't know his goal, but the whole building's stone, and we don't want to take any chances."
"is there any way you would like me to help?"
"i'd say ice the whole building, but this guy's got quick reflexes. try going in discretely and trap him in ice when he's caught in surprise."
todoroki nods and is about to enter the building when
"also, try not to ice the other hero in there. i think his name's y/--"
the building crumbles at an incredible speed, and he barely has time to throw both himself and the other hero out of the way.
once the other man is stable, todoroki goes to assess the damage. the rocks are still tumbling down, but they're slower now.
they feel a lot faster when todoroki catches a glimpse of an all too familiar hero costume.
"y/n!" todoroki shouts as he loses the ability to think rationally. he runs with his heart in his throat and a terrible tense feeling that starts to overwhelm his entire body, trying to reach y/n before the large boulder does.
ice spreads from his feet and meets with the chunk of stone before it can fall on y/n's head.
"i'm going to get you out of here," todoroki promises when he makes it to y/n. he calls for help while looking over the pieces of the building on top of y/n's body.
"todoroki," y/n coughs weakly, and todoroki notices a pool of red slowly start to grow on the concrete below them.
"don't talk." todoroki's voice sounds so weak and helpless, and he hates it.
y/n just smiles, but the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth keep it from spreading warmth and happiness within todoroki like it usually does.
todoroki's already seen lots of tragedy in his one year of hero work, but he's never felt so panicked in his entire life.
he tries to shift a rock, but it only makes y/n groan.
"help!" todoroki yells again, but everyone's too preoccupied with catching the villain and tending to their own serious injuries to come and rescue y/n.
"shhh, todoroki," y/n says weakly.
"don't talk!" todoroki yells this time. it's still helpless, but it's loud, and y/n starts to laugh to the best of his ability.
"hard when... when you're just so funny. that's why... i..."
"don't close your eyes." todoroki feels like his heart's stopped.
"i..." y/n's eyes droop.
"look at me!" todoroki shouts with wild eyes.
and so he does. y/n looks at him with tired eyes, but todoroki can tell that he's straining himself to do so.
"i love you," todoroki's eyes feel heavy and his nose burns. "please... i love you, too..."
but it's too late.
the open eyes are quick to lose their life, and y/n's skin loses its color.
"i love you."
❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥
a/n;
deadass i was listening to my discover weekly on spotify and when i was writing the last few sentences i love you by wavves came on
i didn't know what to title it so i just left it
i hope it was satisfactory anon!
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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago
Text
“You Get Me” Pt. 3 (famous!y/n x harry)
Aka “Kissy” 🥺
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honestly its really just domestic harry bahaha and I added that they have a slight age gap ?but seriously I hope y’all enjoy the third and final installment of my first ever writings -  a little miniseries if you will. I loved writing this part sm, probably my favorite part yet. I linked a spotify playlist that was some inspo (I literally listened to your summer dream on repeat for one part that I wrote, that song is so beautiful) anyways - not really proofread and I tried to break it up more so it was less big chunks to read formatting wise
here’s part 3! read: part 1 | part 2
word count: 4.0k  | warnings: makeout sesh, shirtless harry!, nothing graphic tho (I think!)
tag list : @marauderswhisperer, @morgannope, @daddystevee, @kthemarsian, @bi-andready-tocry
playlist for the inspo✨
-
One Week Later
“Hey, Har...change of plans!” you exclaimed as you peaked through a door in Harry’s house.
You’d hung out together at your apartment once since your phone retrieval visit and the two of you had been texting constantly. You loved Harry’s company and Harry couldn’t get enough of you. Harry had called you late last night, ‘Want t’take you out tomorrow, love.’ his voice was groggy as if he was about to fall asleep. You’d instantly agreed and drove over to his house the next day. He was leaving back to London on Saturday, so it was your last day to see him for awhile.
Inside the door you had just opened, a beautiful vintage convertible sat. You had found the garage. “You are so driving this,” you turned to see the man who held your entire heart in his hands walking up beside you. Harry reluctantly agreed and leaned down to kiss your cheek.
“Ready?” he questioned, holding up the soft blanket he had retrieved for your coastal picnic. You nodded, proudly displaying the little picnic basket you had packed full with food. Simultaneously the two of you reach for each other’s free hands, clasping them together and walking out to the car.
“I’m on aux, you can focus on the road,” you told Harry when both of you went for the cassette device that functioned to allow you to play music from your phone despite the age of the car. Harry loved how assertive you were even if it meant he didn’t always get his way. That was one of the reasons he liked you so much, your strength, your ability to hold your own in any situation, even with him, opposite of how a lot of people treated him in the industry in bids to get in his good graces. You were his match, so similar, yet so unique.  
The pair of you started out on the road. Harry wore a white t-shirt with a blue bee slogan,  purple trousers, and some clean white vans. His rings and pearl necklace wrapped up the look. His tattooed arms starkly contrasting the crisp white of his shirt. His eyes on the road were covered by large sunglasses, but his hair flew out behind him as the wind rushed over the car. You had chosen high waisted mom jean style denim shorts and a lavender femme top with a mesh white floral overlay, it had ties on the shoulders and it complimented your skin color perfect, tanned in from your life in the golden state. You too had your rings on and a silver necklace with your first initial hidden in the pendant. Even your clothes complemented each other.  
The first song to play through the speakers was Joni Mitchell’s “California.” You looked over to see Harry smile and you two began to sing along. You didn’t talk much on the ride, staying silent other than singing along when you pleased, but you always made sure not to overpower the actual song, you didn’t like to do that if the music was there for ambiance. Harry would speak up a little when passing various things, just simply pointing them out. Then, after the first notes of “California Dreamin’” came on Harry couldn’t help buy say, “Y/N, seriously?  S’not like I don’t love these songs, but please tell me you didn’t just search up ‘California’ and are playing tha’?” All you did was shush him and tell him this was one of your favorite songs before singing along.
Then, as the Mamas and the Papas voices began to fade out, Harry started again, “This next song’s title better not be fuckin’ California or somethin’ with-” but he stopped as the light quick notes of “Golden” came through the speakers, followed by his own voice. You grinned and gave his shoulder a little push. You had just gotten on the PCH and you remembered his mention of it being the quintessential coastal drive song a couple years ago so you had queued just in time.
A grin spreads onto his features that had been in slight exasperation at your antics previously and shakes his head at you, does a little finger shake vaguely in your direction, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.”
You both burst out in song, practically yelling the first chorus, Harry taking little harmony parts that most wouldn’t even notice, but he notices them, he made them. You dance in your seat to the song, taking control of the background ‘da da da’s. Harry is in awe of how well your voice sounds with the track, when you sing along to the second verse, much more seriously than the first one you had screamed together. He glanced over at your moving figure that began to sway at the slowing of the song. You weren’t wearing sun glasses and you had your eyes closed, basking in the shining sun. You looked at peace, yet completely fulfilled and overjoyed. In that moment, Harry knew he wanted to keep making you feel the way you did right now every time you were together. The song ended and your playlist continued, random songs regarding California and the feeling you get with someone you care about - makes you feel sunkissed.
-
“You’re literally so corny,” Harry laughs to you when ‘California Girls’ by the Beach Boys came on. You throw side eyes at him, “What can I say, Brian Wilson knew, California girls are where it’s at,” you roll your lips into your mouth and then bite your bottom lip.
-
The drive continued with you giving a rousing rendition of ‘California Gurls’ with Harry as Katy Perry and you as Snoop Dogg as you had insisted. Harry even busted out some minimal dance moves while driving the car, honking the horn at the appropriate moment. You made Harry feel like he was 19 again.
Then, straight into ‘Canyon Moon,’ Harry really was in disbelief of the woman next to him. You got so into the “I’m goin’ home” part of the song. Harry said, “Really like tha’ one, I gather,” after it finished. It was your turn to look at him in disbelief, “It’s my favorite, Har, I remember listening to Fine Line the first time and loving it immediately. Still loved it even after everyone else barely talked about it. Deserved so much more, s’amazing.” You finished with a half smile slipping onto your face. Harry gave a quiet ‘thanks’ and returned the smile.
-
Harry was finally satisfied with where you had landed along the coast. There had been no set destination, just a plan to drive to a lookout for the picnic. Finding a small parking area, you two gathered your items and set out for the perfect spot. The California coast really is beautiful. You’d lived there your whole life, just further up north, moving down to Los Angeles when you started your music career. You ran ahead of Harry to seek out a little bluff you’d seen in the distance. “Oi!” Harry called, but didn’t run to catch up, he had taken the picnic basket and it had drinks that wouldn’t be great if they were all shaken up.
You were right, it was the perfect spot, a little ways up from the set path there was a flat surface on the edge of a cliff, it was safe, with wildflowers and tall grass around a more bare area. You layed out the large blanket, then stood and watched as Harry made his way to you. His hair was every which way due to the wind whipping through it during the car ride, you subconsciously ran your hands through your hair for that reason. He looks gorgeous, you thought.
When he arrived at your little patch, he sat down the basket and you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled yourself into him and basked in his glow, his warmth and scent. He held you and ran a hand through your hair. The pair of you could have silly fun, but you could also be extremely intimate. In these quiet moments you wished you could stop time and live here forever. To live in his arms would be a wonderful thing. “So happy right now, darling,” Harry whispered, the soft swish of grass and the distant crash of waves the only sounds he had to speak above. You said nothing, but pushed yourself even further into his body, a response in and of itself. In this moment, there was no one else, just you, Harry, and the beautiful nature you stood in. This moment was everything. And you didn’t want to set it free.
Eventually, the two of you parted and relaxed into the blanket. For once, neither of you played music, you talked and ate and listened to the ambient sounds of nature. The melodic waves carried the conversation, when neither of you felt the need to say words. After eating, you let Harry pop the bottle of champagne he had brought along, unbeknownst to you, nevertheless when you saw it you wanted to be the one to uncork it. Still, your protests fell on deaf ears. “Y’seem to be getting very used to getting everythin’ you want, huh? Already a spoiled princess after a couple months of fame,” Harry teased as he worked to open the bottle. You huffed at his teasing and your failed attempt to get the bottle from him, which had caused him to move off the blanket and have his shirt be stretched from you grabbing at the bottle and only getting fabric.
“Whatever, don’t act like you’re not a total diva sometimes, Styles.” You couldn’t deny that him calling you a ‘spoiled princess’ made you feel things, unholy things. Of course you found Harry unbelievably attractive, but this was your fourth time being with Harry and the two of you hadn’t done anything besides heavy makeout sessions. You loved the way he said your name, but you also loved his nicknames for you, but this was a new one that seemed to hold some meaning within it.
Harry liked to see you all worked up, but knew he could get the exact same way, upset when things don’t turn out the way you want them. Frustrating. Finally, he popped the cork and you both cheered for the golden bubbly liquid. You had spent almost about an hour on the road and an hour or two already on the cliff, so the sun was starting to make its farewells to this side of the earth. The sky was beginning to light up with pinks, oranges, and lavenders. You both sat back down on the blanket, this time with you sat up inside of Harry’s spread legs, reclining back onto his chest.
You continued to talk, about the view before you for a little, but then each other. Whenever you were together, the two of you gravitated to the topic of enjoying the other so much. Today was apparently Harry’s turn to share. “When we were in tha car, earlier,” he started as you twiddled your fingers on his thigh, drawing shapes. You looked up into his eyes to encourage him to continue. “Haven’t had tha’ much fun in awhile. You…” he hesitated again and averted his eyes from your stare. You whispered a little ‘yeah’. You really cared about Harry feeling comfortable with you and making him happy, so you knew encouragement was helpful when he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Y’make me feel young...tha’ sounds so dumb, but y’really do,” he finally got out as put his hand over your moving one on his thigh. The two of you didn’t talk about the fact that Harry was a bit older than you. He was famous when you were a puberty-stricken teenager. The age gap wasn’t really an issue, you were both adults, but his statement reminded you that he would be 30 soon and you were still in your early 20s.
You twisted around to sit on your knees and face Harry. You placed both of your hands on his face, cradling his jaw and cheeks on each side of his face. This forced him to look you right in the eyes. You appreciated the beauty of his piercing green eyes for a moment and then went to kiss his crows feet on the sides of his eyes, his forehead lines, his hairline, his five o’clock shadow, and his smile lines, that had cropped up as he giggled at you. You were making exaggerated kiss noises as you loved on his face. “First of all, you are young,” you finally said in audible words. You waited a beat, then you kissed his soft lips that were smiling up at you. He was still smiling when you kissed him so your lips hit a bit of a tooth and you both giggled. But, you stood strong, not pulling away to laugh. Harry kissed you back. He shifted and brought his hands up from the ground where they had been holding him up to cradle your body instead. The kiss stayed chaste, despite Harry’s protests when you pulled back.
“And second, you make me feel alive.” “Alive…” Harry echoed you slowly, “Tha’s a better way to put it. I am young,” He smirked and then winked at you. You moved your hands to sit on his upper chest and could feel his heart beating soft, but strong beneath his skin. You grabbed his arm and moved it from around you. Harry quirked a brow at you. Then you placed his hand above your left breast and below your collarbone. Now he could feel your heartbeat, too. Yours, you thought, was beating a bit faster than his, but you didn’t care. Touching like this, made you feel close to him. Like you could see inside each other.  
-
You finished off the bottle of champagne because Harry had to stop drinking to be able to drive the two of you home safely. You felt very warm from it, despite the sun setting a while ago and your bare arms and legs. Luckily, besides the slight buzz you had, it was summer in California, and the nights stayed relatively warm. You skipped to the car and bent over the convertible to put the picnic basket in the backseat. Harry was right behind you and gave your bum a light pat, you pulled yourself up and flipped around, giggling. You tugged Harry in by his shirt and demanded, “Kissy.” Harry snorted and obliged, but with an open mouthed kiss where his tongue basically slobbered over your lips, mouth, and a bit of your nose. You whined, “You’re fucking disgusting, Har.” “Ya’ love it,” he responded with a faux posh voice before giving you a quick peck to your lips and rounded the car, telling you to get in and buckle up.
The whole ride home, Harry had his hand on your thigh. With it there, you occupied yourself with twisting his rings and and dancing your hand around his fingertips. The champagne had made you quiet, but smiley. The music you played was softer on the ride back home, you knew Harry needed to focus with the dark road and you didn’t want the music to distract him.
One song that was of note was “Lavendar (Take 4)” by the Beach Boys. The recording is somewhat unpleasant, but the song is beautiful. It had reminded you of the clothes you and Harry had worn on your date, the wildflowers that had just surrounded you, and the color of the sky when the sun had set on the scene of you and Harry tenderly kissing each other. The Beach Boys are known for their California, Surf pop sounds, but this sound is soft and filled with lushious harmonies, an ode to lavender, maybe a girl named lavender, but nonetheless it was for lavender. Harry harmonized along with their voices, returning to his original state. It ended and went straight into Simon & Garfunkel’s “America.” Paul Simon’s voice passed through the speakers and whispered to us sweetly. Harry again hummed in appreciation for the song choice.
-
When you arrived at the house, you helped Harry clean up the dishes and trash in the picnic basket. Then you sat on the couch, it was around ten o’clock and Harry had offered to make a pot of tea. You looked over the back of the couch as he moved around his kitchen. He padded around, putting the kettle on, opening cupboards for mugs and tea choices. When the water was ready, he got the tea ready, choosing a loose-leaf blend he’d found at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam. “No cream tonight,” you called, still watching him work his way around his home.
Admiration shown in your eyes as he nodded and finished up the tea, bringing it over to you at the couch. He chose your mug tonight. Different from the previous two, his and yours were a matching set with dark blue interiors with tiny cartoon sailboats. You loved his collection of fun mugs, it fit him so well. After handing it to you, he snuggled in beside you and you took a sip, then rested your head on top of his strong shoulder. You turned your head to give a light kiss to his shoulder, and then moved back to staring ahead of you.  
“Wanna stay?” Harry asked, his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Can just drive ‘ome in the mornin’,” he continued. “That’d be really nice,” you sighed. This was so comfortable, how was in possible to be like this with someone you’d known for a little over a week? It didn’t matter to either of you how quick it had happened. But it happened, and it felt right, so you went with it. This, what you and Harry had, made you happy so there couldn’t really be anything wrong with that.
-
You two chatted a bit more - about your week of tour preparations, Harry’s flight time tomorrow, various random thoughts, - and you drank your tea. At about midnight, Harry suggested that you and he get ready for bed and then watch something on his laptop. You agreed and ventured into an unknown part of his home. You’d started to snoop earlier today when you had found the garage, but had only gotten that far because you got distracted by Harry’s car.
His house was beautiful and perfectly him. It was big, but his decor and things made it specifically Harry, even if he didn’t live here full time anymore. You reached the master bedroom, located in the back of his house, with french doors, identical to those in the sitting room, opening out to the grass in his backyard. His bed. His bed. It was a California King with tasteful bedding and a beautiful wooden headboard and frame.
You ran and jumped onto it, the bed sinking beneath you and the bedding fluffing around you. You snuggled and rolled around in the sheets, “This is so much nicer than my bed in the apartment, it’s only a full…” you trailed off. Harry leaned against the doorway of the room, smiling to himself as he watched you make yourself at home among this life. “You’ll be gettin’ a new place, soon, I reckon?” Harry asked and went to grab you both some clothes to sleep in from his closet. “Yeah, maybe!” you called out to him in the little room connected to the master that housed his clothes.
When Harry returned, he was only in boxers, but was holding two large t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, and another pair of boxers. “D’ya mind if I sleep like this? I can put more clothes on if that makes you more comfortable?”
You couldn’t keep your jaw from dropping. You’d seen Harry shirtless before, everyone had, but to see him right in front of you, that was something else.
He noticed you staring at his body and smirked, but then threw a shirt and the pair of boxers your way, “Stop bein’ such a perv, love,” he teased. “Rude,” you muttered, “Was simply admiring...but if you don’t want me to look, you can sleep fully clothed,” you scratched your nose and then shrugged your shoulders.
As you worked to slide off the big bed, Harry crossed the room and trapped you on the edge, leaning over you with both his hands landing on either side of you on the bed. You scrunch your eyes and nose up as he tries to make eye contact with you. He goes to kiss you, but you turn your head and your cheek receives a kiss. He stays against your cheek, drags out your name and groans, “s’teasin’ you.” “I know, baby,” you respond and kiss his cheek now. You duck under his arm and run into his en suite bathroom, shutting the door to change. When you re-emerge, Harry’s in the bed, with the sheets pulled back, and his computer in his lap.
Harry calls out to you without looking up from his screen, “S’was thinkin’, y’know, since you’re always saying your apartment is tiny, y’could house sit ‘ere while I’m away?” You tilt you head as you approach the bed as you ponder the idea. “I mean, I guess ‘why not’? It would be a longer commute into the studio, but this place is gorgeous, and I’m gonna start traveling a lot anyway so I won’t need my apartment for much longer…” You continue to think on it as you climb back onto Harry’s bed and snuggle yourself into his body. Harry looks slightly down at you by his side, he’s put on his glasses, “Think you should, I’d also like knowin’ someone was ‘ere, keepin’ things running while I’m away.”
You nodded and move slightly to rest your head on Harry’s naked chest. His sunkissed tattooed body is mesmerizing, you reach your hand up and start tracing the various designs and running your hand along his collarbones and veins as well. Then you flattened a palm and smoothed it over his right pectoral. Harry hummed and pushed himself further down the bed. “Can we not watch anything actually, m’kinda tired,” you whisper up to Harry, your voice the only sound in the house besides the light clicking of a clock in a different room. Harry responds by closing the laptop and readjusting your position in the bed. You and Harry are a tangle of legs and bodies pressed against one another. Everything is calm and Harry says one word, “Kissy.” And you smile and let yourself pull slightly away from Harry to lean up and kiss him one more time before the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s soft and chaste, completely closed mouths, but you linger in the kiss, feeling his warm nose brushing besides yours. A hand moves up to his hair and gives it one good run through and then you pull away, “Kissy,” you finalize. The two of you giggle and snuggle even further together.
Your bodies fit so well together and again you were struck with the feeling that you never wanted this to end, even if tomorrow he was flying away, to somewhere halfway across the world. The distance didn’t matter. You knew the two of you had what it took to be there for each other, even if you couldn’t touch or feel the other. Even if laughter over the phone had to suffice for awhile. What the two of you had was greater than all of those obstacles of space and proximity. It was powerful because you were both powerful. Powerful in the way you loved, in the way you worked, in the way you simply were. You fell asleep in Harry’s arms that night filled with contentment. Harry fell asleep with you in his arms that night filled with joy that he’d found someone to share everything with. Someone who was willing to give him all of themselves. Someone who was finally able to get all of him.
-
love y’all sm 🤍🤍 hope you enjoyed and have a nice day
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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years ago
Text
Mermay - Dilliam - An Introduction
Happy Mermay!
William discovers that Mark’s girlfriend is hiding a secret known as ‘Damien’. He’d never guess the truth.
Word Count: 2,807 (I got a little carried away, and this wasn’t even what I intended to write!)
-
Even if William had known Mark and Celine for two years, he always felt like he was on the outside of the group.
(Aside from feeling like the third wheel as Mark and Celine had been in a steady relationship since Mark first introduced his childhood friend to his girlfriend)
Mark, Celine, and her family seemed to have a secret. Whenever they would chat, there would be mention of "Damien" in passing. But when William tried to ask for context, he was never given it. Mark and Celine would conveniently slide the topic elsewhere to avoid answering the question, while he was in no position to ask her parents. All William could gather was that Damien travelled but occasionally returned to the family home. Was he a businessman, forever on the roam? Was he a soldier like William? Was he family or a friend? After several years of being left in the dark, he had accepted that he'd never learn the truth.
In January, he had been sent overseas with the military as part of a peacekeeping mission. Even if there were opportunities for video calls, the three decided to write letters to give William something to do while on duty and to make the time go by a little faster. The young Colonel realised something interesting - by Celine's fourth letter, she had mentioned Damien. He guessed that the vagabond must have returned while the soldier was overseas. He noted in his next letter that he was surprised Celine willingly mentioned this mysterious figure (William? Bitter? Of course not!). As though adding to the mystery, the letter he received in reply was a curious one:
"I'm sorry I couldn't explain it before. Damien is my brother, but he's very shy. He doesn't like others knowing about him without being told first. I have told him about you and he's rather interested in what you're doing."
William was FLOORED. He'd known Celine for two FULL years and there had never been mention of a sibling?? He didn't remember a family photo with unfamiliar faces. Deciding it was a better argument to have when he was home, he instead crammed two letters into the one envelope - one for Celine, one for Damien. If the brother was secretive, it might be best to prove that William was a trustworthy friend. Friendly, short letters would be a good way to start.
--
For the next two months, the letters became a great distraction from his duties. Mark was asking William for advice on how to propose. Celine was updating William on the house she and Mark had bought, including sending photos of the ocean just at their doorstep. Damien, while proving that he was a secretive individual, wrote short letters about himself. The mysterious brother kept to himself, and it got William wondering about how shy Damien was. It was endearing, in a way. William accepted that he was wrong to take the news so harshly at first. Celine was merely doing right by her brother. 
It wasn't long after William sent his letters in response that his squad was ambushed. The attackers were defeated, but not without William having his leg broken in the process, among other things. He was sent to a local hospital before it was decided that getting him home would be more beneficial. Any letters that arrived at the base for William were instead returned to sender, as the soldier was being transferred too frequently while being treated to determine where he would be at a given moment.
-
It was June by the time William arrived home. Not even a medical boot and a crutch could dampen his spirits. Mark's hug of relief nearly knocked them both down, but Celine joining the hug successfully toppled them over William's rucksack as they erupted into laughs. The couple gave William the grand tour of their new home. It was as charming and elegant as Mark would like, while secluded from frequent public activity as Celine desired. Not only that, the house was near a cliff edge, which allowed a beautiful view of the ocean. William took in this view as he sat in the living room with a glass of water.
"Will?" Celine's voice stirred him from his daze. "I know you've done a lot of walking to get here and you're likely tired but… Would you like to meet Damien today?"
"Would I like to what?" William repeated blankly, a dumbfounded expression on his face.
"Your idea of sending him letters worked a treat. He asked me every day if there was a new letter for him. He's very curious about you."
"From what you told me, I thought he would have been gone by now." William's observation had Celine shaking her head.
"He waited to see you. I think learning about your injuries worried him." Celine's gaze lifted briefly to the water before she added, "He'll understand if he needs to wait until tomorrow -"
"No, no. I'll admit I've been curious to meet him as well. All this time you've had a brother and no one could tell me. What time will he arrive?"
"Actually, he's already here. Come on. I'll show you. There's one more part of the house you haven't seen."
-
William was fully expecting there to be a secret basement. Instead, he was led out to the back garden. It was small and neat, complete with a small wall to give some semblance of shelter. It looked like it belonged to a farmland cottage, especially given the gate at the bottom. Celine unlocked it and went first. William could see a path that led down to the ocean. The steps were man-made and weren't too steep. It would be a slow walk down but he could manage it in the medical boot.
"Damien is my twin brother," Celine began as she guided William down the steps, "and nearly everyone who knows my family doesn't know he exists. You and Mark are the only one of my friends who know and, well, you'll understand soon."
At the bottom of the steps was a seating area protected by some large rocks that created a safe area to swim in without worry of sudden tides whisking you out to sea. William hobbled over to one of the large rocks so he could sit down, gather his energy and curse the boot. Celine followed, climbing onto a neighbouring large rock.
"Damien? Are you here? I have my friend William, the Colonel!"
Ripples began to spread through the still water. William watched with wide-eyed curiosity when he caught movement below the surface. He had been watching the water while coming down the stairs, and there weren't any items or clothing strewn about. Before he could ask Celine, a head popped out of the water in front of him.
It was a man, or what looked like one. His smooth skin was as white as porcelain and shimmered in the sunlight. There were tiny bubble-like markings that William swore looked like scales. His hair was as dark as Celine's, but with a blue tint with the right light. It appeared to hold its shape by being stylised into smaller 'chunks' to form larger strands of hair. The ears were finned and had a pale blue along the edges. His face, despite not looking fully human, reminded William of both Celine and her father. The eyes were a different shape to the rest of the family - presumably more rounded and large to help with hunting - but the 'nose' and mouth were a perfect match. Even the eye colour was the same as Celine's.
"Damien, I take it?" William thought it absurd, but his hunch to ask immediately proved to be a good thing. The head ducked back under the water. Celine gave a knowing smirk and stepped back. In a flash, a large blur pounced for the rocks and climbed up with surprising agility, revealing what was actually a merman in full display. From head to tail, the skin kept that white tone, unlike what William would have seen in movies. There were fin-like protrusions emerging from his collar bones and his upper arms, which went from that pale blue on the edges to a dark purple at the base, almost like a sunset. This coloration was also on the frills that went down his stomach and on either side of his tail, before all three trailed off at differing points to allow the splendour of the large tail tip. William did remember Celine having posters of betta fish in her room when they met, was this why?
"The Colonel, yes? Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you! Celine has told me so much about you! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to meet you sooner." Damien had snatched up William's left hand with both his webbed ones and shook eagerly, until he caught himself and quickly pulled back. "I'm so sorry. It's not often I get to meet new people." As quickly as he had sprung forward, Damien pulled back as his sister sat down beside him, ears flattened in embarrassment. The twins had such a likeness once the obvious differences were put aside.
"Don't apologise. I've been looking forward to meeting you too. I can't believe no one told me before I left. I'm offended!" William put a hand on his chest and dramatically sighed, only to erupt into cackles when Celine reached over and slapped his arm.
-
The three sat on the rocks for the afternoon. Celine and Damien took the time to explain to William about their genetics. Their father's grandfather was a merman who had decided to leave the life of the water behind and marry their great-grandmother. The merfolk genes became a passive trait. Their descendants had natural aquatic talents but all were completely human. Their mother, however, had magic in her bloodline, and this strengthened the recessive merfolk gene. When she was expecting twins, one was a regular human pregnancy, while the other was cocooned in water. In that regard, Damien was a miracle that he survived and had a healthy childhood...
"- but it meant no one outside a small circle knew I existed," Damien sighed. "Celine was able to go to school, make friends, while I was taught by our grandparents, as well as Celine who showed me what she learned in school. Because I'm not human-passing like movies show, I couldn't use a wheelchair and a blanket like I wanted." Not only that, there wasn't a large community of mythical creatures that they knew of. "But don't take this to be me lamenting my fate. I've had a wonderful life and have made connections with many merfolk communities around the world who welcomed me in while I am studying."
"Studying?" William looked confused, but Celine took the moment to wrap her arm around Damien's shoulder.
"You are looking at one of the top merfolk experts on culture and tradition, as well as a general fish expert. Speaking of," she patted Damien on the shoulder as she rose to her feet, "I should go back up and help Mark. We're having dinner down here." With that, she hopped off the rocks and began the ascent back up the house. Damien and William watched her go, before the soldier turned back around.
"So, an expert, eh? I happen to be rather unintelligent compared to your sister and Mark, so I'm afraid you'll have to tell me everything." He rested his elbow on his good leg, and propped his chin on his hand as he grinned at the merman. Damien's eyes darted aside and his ears flattened in embarrassment.
"Well, I wouldn't call myself an 'expert'," Damien admitted quietly, "but actually… I'd rather hear about you. I really enjoyed receiving your letters while you were away. Is that why you wear those clothes?" 
"Oh these?" Whoops. William had forgotten to change when he arrived. He barely had a moment to drop his bags to the guest room. "This is my military uniform. It's commonplace to wear it when you're on duty, even if you're simply being sent home. It's not the normal battle uniform, not anymore. That's just regular camouflage. This is an everyday uniform that shows off any badges you have earned and -" William stopped as he felt his hat being plucked off his head. He hadn't noticed Damien crawl over until it was too late. Instead of snatching it back, he ruffled his hair so that it lost the 'hat hair' look.
"How can you wear this? I've never seen anything like it!" Damien, after a brief examination, decided to try it on. The strange shape of the hat meant that it kept falling forward on him, no matter what he did to try and keep it in place. Instead of helping, William simply laughed at the merman's misfortune.
-
When William eventually agreed to help Damien wear the hat in a way that wouldn't fall off, he began to share stories of his early days in the army. Damien was enthralled, asking questions in a bid to learn more. It was no wonder that both were startled by the arrival of Mark and Celine with lanterns and all the necessities for a feast by the sea. Damien returned to the water while the humans set up, only to resurface when they were ready. His skin needed to be rehydrated for what he knew would be a long evening ahead.
Food, drink and merriment were had that night. Damien had hoisted himself onto the bench so he could fully join in. William honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night in the company of his dear friends. Perhaps not having to worry about a secret made it a lot easier to converse. For the first time in a long time, William didn't feel like an outsider amongst his own friends; but he didn't dwell on it much. Instead, he gave witty commentary during Mark's dramatic retelling of events the pair went through as youths.
At some point, Celine had fetched blankets from a sturdy, weathered box hidden amongst the box and wrapped one around herself and Damien. The twins nestled together as time passed, and Damien was content to enjoy being in the company of Celine and all her closest friends at last. 
The low flickering of the lanterns was the cue for the humans to return indoors. With William staying for a few days, Damien was content to let them go without feeling too sorry for himself. There would be plenty of time to chat. He sat on the rocks as he watched Mark help William back up the steps. Even from a distance, he could hear William barking something about how "this means nothing and I'm still stronger than you" and "I swear to God I'll push you down the stairs if you keep laughing at me Mark". 
"He's a good man, that Colonel." Damien jumped when Celine spoke. When did she move to sit beside him?! "When Mark introduced me, I was worried that his loud voice and brashness meant bad things, but he's been such a good, loyal friend over the last few years. I hope that he wasn't too 'much' for you today."
"N-no, no. I… he's exactly like you said he'd be." His eyes were on the two men as they disappeared out of view. "He's not angry that he didn't know about me, is he?"
"Nah." Celine leaned back, enjoying the light sea breeze. "He knew we were hiding something. I think he's happy to know he can be trusted. And he'll be stuck here for at least a day or two while Mark and I are working thanks to that broken foot. I'd bet he'll make it his mission to come down here alone just to show he can."
"I'd like that. He has a lot of stories to tell… Would it be weird if I ask him to keep talking?"
"Not as weird as it is that you've caught some sort of feelings for him. Did you get bitten by a love-bug, brother dearest?"
"Shut up, darling sister," Damien quickly nudged her, only to receive a counter-shove in response. "Just… don't tell him, alright? I know better than to interrupt a human marriage like that." He'd content himself with the company of the man who had captured his attention from the first letter. Celine slid off the rock and stretched. She glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smirk, gesturing to her left hand, which Damien knew was the hand with her engagement ring.
"His ring is on the other hand, Damien. It's a birthday present from his father. Goodnight, brother~" And off she went, gleefully ignoring her brother's confused questions.
"What do you mean he doesn't have a partner??"
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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago
Text
Honesty Part 7 (Last One)
Part One here
Part Two here
Part Three here
Part Four here
Part Five here
Part Six here
Zelda supposed it was the adventurous spirit in both of them that led them to sit upon the roof, gazing at the stars and yet very aware of the person next to them. Sometimes they shared words, small talk about this or that. Sometimes they shared silence, just as comfortable, just as safe. Either way, Zelda found herself forgetting about her troubles in the company of Link.
“It’s hard to believe that it’s been a week already,” Link remarked, obviously attempting to strike up another bout of conversation. Zelda turned her head. “I feel like I just got here and now we are journeying to rendezvous with Urbosa early tomorrow morning.”
Zelda smiled to herself.
“You did sleep through a pretty big chunk of it,” she jived, Link offering a slight chuckle in reply.
“Damn mushrooms,” he said before their words faded again, Zelda listening to the chirps of crickets and the rattles of cicadas. 
She thought of the words of Link’s mother, the advice that the line between a deep friendship and a romantic relationship was farther away than she thought. Zelda knew she could cross over at any time, but it was that trepidation, that hesitation that seemed to drive them both to pure flustered anxiety when around each other, like one move would cross a line they could never come back from, that they would fall so deep in love that they would fall from a great height, and thus so would Hyrule.
Link’s mother reminded her that shutting him out because of that fear may be just as detrimental. There had to be a balance.
“Hey, Link?” Zelda prompted, keeping her gaze on the stars and her weight on the hands behind her.
“Yeah?”
Zelda didn’t know that Link had taken the opportunity to look over to her, to admire the way the pale light of the stars and the moon made her completely ethereal, the way she outshined them, captured their light and proved herself the better conduit for it.
“I just wanted to thank you,” Zelda said. “For this week...tolerating me, you know, the spoiled princess I am.”
“You’re not spoiled,” Link said quickly. Zelda smiled to herself and was glad the darkness of the night sky hid any blush. “I mean...you deserve a break just as much as I do. I’m glad I got to give that to you, and...well I like having you around.”
Zelda kept smiling. This felt more normal, and even better, it felt more natural.
“I like having you around too,” Zelda said in reply. “I think you...”
Zelda stopped herself. She had to temper her honesty, balance telling him how she felt without pouring out her entire heart and drowning them both in their dangerous love.
“I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Zelda said, Link hiding his surprise well. “I know you are under orders to protect me, but you were never under orders to forgive me for my prior immaturity, nor were you under orders to befriend me and support me like you have. No one has ever had my back like you do, no knight assigned to me, not even Urbosa or my father...oh gosh this is probably sounding horribly strange...I think I just want to let you know that I have your back too, no matter what. I...uhmm...I care about you a lot.”
She finally overcame her anxiety and looked over to Link, who was looking so intently at the night sky that it seemed quite the oddity.
“What are you doing?!” Zelda asked with a resummoned petulance. “Are you even listening to me?!”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m looking for flying pigs.”
“Goddesses,” Zelda said, playfully shoving him, which made him laugh. “I was trying to be sincere and you turn it into a joke! I can’t believe I li...”
Link looked over to her immediately as her intended word cut short and slowed down, hanging on the syllable as she tried to save it. Her heart burned with panic and embarrassment and somehow the brain she was often praised for failed her, Zelda forgetting every word she had ever learned.
“...ke...you,” she finally finished, closing her eyes filled with regret, and scampering off the roof quickly.
“Princess, wait!” Link said with an outstretched hand, coming to a kneel to watching her run across the bridge towards the center of town.
Link sighed as he followed suit, hopping down to the roof of the stable, as if it was a stepping stone downwards, soon meeting his feet to grass. 
He bursted through the door to his house, nearly scaring his mother half to death where she stood cooking.
“Link!” She said breathlessly with a hand on her chest. “What in Hyrule are you--”
“Do you remember where I put the sword?” Link asked, frantically looking everywhere.
“For goodness sake, Link, I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” Ruth said as Link ran upstairs. She furrowed her brow, looking up at the loft. “Would you calm down?!”
“Can’t,” Link replied, sword in hand and running back down the stairs. “I’ll be back for dinner.” Link slammed the the door behind him with as much haste as he had opened it. Ruth rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Hylia, help that boy.”
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Link knew exactly where she would run, and thus, his legs burned as he ran up the hill to Purah’s laboratory as fast as he could.
Knocking on the door, he panicked with worry. She could have been in danger and even if she wasn’t, she was likely ashamed for something she simply shouldn’t be. Link always assumed she didn’t like him back but now his mind overflowed with possibility that was once a fantasy. Most of all, however, he just wanted to see her okay.
“Linky!” He heard as soon as the door opened, the young Purah standing there with excited red eyes. Link gave a nervous and forced smile before return to his concerned expression.
“Is the princess here?” Link asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this serious Link,” Purah observed like she was studying him. “And your face is completely flushed. Tell me, do you have any other symptoms?”
Link sighed.
“Just answer my question,” Link demanded.
“She’s around back,” Purah said, Link immediately walking to find his Princess. “Wait,” Purah said, stopping him and prompting him to turn back around. “I thought you two were past her running from you.”
“We are,” Link said. “Well, we were...there was just a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it.”
“Well then I wish you the best of luck, young knight,” Purah said before closing the door.
Link tread around the lab, finding Zelda hugging her knees and staring out at the vast sea, lit by the moonlight. Link questioned whether or not she knew he was here, whether she would have run and whether he had the courage to make himself known.
“I was trying to bridge the gap without letting that out,” Zelda said suddenly, alerting Link to the fact that she did in fact know. He leaned casually on the outside wall of the lab, his ears penned for her next words. “I don’t want to lose you because of the distance I have to keep to not...get too close. I was trying to follow your mother’s advice to not let this get in the way of still being there for each other.” Zelda laughed at herself. “I did a great job.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Link said. “Besides, I get where you are coming from. When we talked about focusing only on defeating the calamity, I think we both had this in mind...of course thinking that the other person didn’t. And yes, Your Highness, that means I like you back, for better or worse.”
Zelda tried not to let her heart flutter with joy, not to jump up and into his arms. She tried to look at the ocean and forget that his eyes were the same, beautiful color.
“I can’t erase my feelings,” Link said. “Can you?”
Zelda shook her head.
“No,” she replied.
Link finally stepped forward and knelt next to her to match her eye line, Zelda looked over to him once he did. They couldn’t but smile at the sight of the other.
“This is insane,” Link said. “I mean you of all people like like me.”
“The irony is not lost on me,” Zelda said with a slight laugh. Link moved to sit on his heels and took her hands into his. Zelda reveled in the feeling, in the moments, in his touch, in everything about this.
“This is still a bit bizarre for me,” Link said. “And new and scary, but...I’m willing to wait for you until after the calamity is defeated...to wait to truly pursue this. I will support you and care about you sincerely until then but if you feel I’m not worth the wait--”
“You are,” Zelda said quickly with a smile. “You are.”
Link blushed, his head hanging down as he chuckled, filled with disbelief. He was almost tearing up at what he had found in her, how lucky he was. He raised his hand, pinkie outstretched.
“Let’s make a promise then, to pause this budding romance until we defeat the calamity once and for all, to still be there for each other with the same love, care, and support, but not risk our common sense because of it.”
Zelda eyed his outstretched pinkie.
“A pinkie promise?” Zelda asked with a raised brow. “That’s how we are going to seal this?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Zelda smiled as she brought her hands to his, clasping his pinkie back into his fisted hand and holding it.
“How about a kiss?” She asked. “Just this once...for now at least.”
“What?” Link asked, his smile fading and his face reddening as much as Zelda had ever seen it. Zelda laughed.
“Link,” she said. “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure,” Link asked. “I mean you’re royalty and I’m just--”
Zelda surged forward and met her lips to his, Link soon giving in, placing his hand on her cheek as something stoked with their very souls, their silent promise continuing. The passion of their blooming love was balanced by the hesitation of their first kiss.
“You better remember this,” Zelda said as she withdrew.
“Like I could forget,” Link said jokingly.
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