#obsessed with those big clear blue-green eyes and those little forehead crinkles and those wide shoulders

[wildsaltair]

respectfully I need to climb him like a rope ladder and do him so good we both ascend into the clouds and never recover

[snickiebear]

Hello hello nadia, i’m in a leesaku mood today so pls indulge me with a three-sentence fic for this lil prompt “you are my best friend and I’ve known you platonically for years now but every time you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach” tysm ilyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

haha... this is, two days late. NIASDUKDSK IM SO SORRY THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOURE THE BEST ILY

side note: this is.... kind of what you wanted? AND LMAO ITS NOT THREE SENTENCES AGAIN WHOOPS

side side note: this is now crossposted bc i liked it a lot tbh :")

a cocoon in the heart, a spark in the brain.

It starts with a glance. An innocent, fleeting look. Naruto’s smile is too bright to look at for more than a handful of seconds and Sasuke’s glare is too dark to find anything of interest, so Sakura glances away, as she always does.

She glances away and there is Lee, dirtied and bloodied but he holds Neji’s hand, Tenten tucked under his arm, and is laughing, tears streaming down his face. He must have felt her eyes because he looks over and sends her a beaming smile. 

And. And her heart picks up, her breath catches. 

She quickly looks over to Naruto and Sasuke, being blinded by the light and dark both, and tries her best to not think of why one look from Lee can breed butterflies and moths in her stomach. 

.

.

.

They rebuild the village and everyone endures. Sasuke leaves once more because he is a boy who has never known staying, he has never stayed long enough to put roots in, to know how to stay. So, Naruto and Sakura let him go. 

(If she is being honest, Sakura is more than happy to have him leave. Sasuke will always be a rotten fruit in the tangle of her feelings, something that she will never quite understand, something that will haunt her no matter what she does. If he is not there, she does not have to think about it. He’s like a curse, and it hurts her to think that but it is true.)

Kakashi is the Hokage and Sakura is still laughing at him, clutching her stomach and howling at her friend’s “misfortune” as he calls it.

“Mah,” Kakashi half drawls, half pleads. “Must you laugh at your poor ex-sensei?”

Naruto is losing his absolute shit as they clutch each other to stay standing. “Kaka-sensei you do not look good in white.”

“It,” Sakura gasps, wiping tears from her face, “It-It really washes you out!”

Naruto’s knees give out and they both tumble to the ground, a mess and tangle of laughing limbs and leaking eyes. 

Kakashi sighs heavily from his desk but she knows he’s having just as much fun as they are. Kakashi is her best friend, she knows how he is when he’s drunk out of his mind and when he’s trying to bite back laughter. 

The door swings open and Lee steps in with Team Gai flanking him. Neji recovered incredibly well thanks to Sakura’s magic hands (as Naruto has deemed them) and they’ve been taking low ranking missions since he was deemed fit to return to duty. 

It takes a few moments for Sakura and Naruto’s heaving, snorting laughter to subside as Kakashi clears his throat, his eyes crinkling up in the way Sakura knows he’s really trying not to laugh. 

She looks up and glances at Lee, to find him already watching her, his eyes soft and smile softer. Sakura is a God Slayer along with Naruto and Sasuke, she has faced down hundreds of opponents with only her raw fists and come up victorious, she has dragged people back from the brink of death with a tap. 

Sakura does not blush. Out right refuses to. 

“Hey,” All breathless and raw from laughter.

Lee’s smile widens as he steps forward to offer his hand, she takes it without hesitation and thanks the God whose heart she ripped out that he was wearing gloves. She can feel the heat through them nonetheless. Sakura does her best not to shiver as their eyes meet. 

“You guys heading in or out?” Naruto asks after he hauled himself onto his feet, not hiding the way he eyes Lee and Sakura’s hands. The entire room’s eyes are on them. 

“In,” Tenten says slowly, and Sakura does not blush as she carefully extracts her hand from Lees and does not think about why there are fireworks exploding within her mind, why she misses the heat and the way his hand encompasses hers. 

.

.

.

She sees him everywhere now. 

At the Rusty Kunai, at the training fields, at lunch, sometimes even in the hospital. And every damn time he smiles at her, she feels like she’s coming back to life and being stabbed in the heart. 

Sakura has no idea if this was love or just lust. What she felt for Sasuke was not love, that was obsession and cruelty. She had crushes on civilian boys but they were too soft, unmarred compared to her countless scars, visible or not. 

Ino stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person in the world and Sakura smacks her for it. She hopes it leaves a bruise. The Bitch. “Stop giving me that look, Pig. I’ll hit you again, don’t tempt me.”

Ino glares as she rubs her arm, sticking out her tongue. “It isn’t my fault you aren’t using that big forehead of yours! You’re telling me that you two drink together, train together, you go to lunch together, he even visits you at the hospital because he knows you haven’t eaten or slept. And then you tell me you get all those stupid fluttery feelings and you don’t know what it means?”

And well. When she puts it like that. . .

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms, “It's confusing!”

“You’re a genius. An actual genius, Sakura.” Ino deadpans. “Your IQ is literally right next to Shikamaru’s. Lee has been in love with you since we were twelve! There is no way you don’t know what this means.”

Groaning, Sakura slumps into Ino’s lap, hiding her face in Ino’s thigh. “When did you become so smart?”

“When I made out with Hinata and then fucked her.” Ino says easily and Sakura laughs. “What? Don’t laugh! It's true!” 

Ino cackles when Sakura pinches her calf.

.

.

.

Lee moves with such elegance that Sakura aches with it. 

This boy made man who had known nothing but sweat and hardship, who still cups things with such tender and care, who moves so fluidly and hits so brutally.  

They are both the earth, solid and unyielding, they are the water, the hills, the mountains. They are unbreakable because they have broken themselves apart, pushed themselves past the very limit to reach where they are.

Sakura and Lee are 20 and they have saved the world. 

Now, they tear apart the training grounds just to keep life interesting. 

With every dodged fist her heart quickens because Lee is smiling and laughing, calling friendly taunts as she grins right back. 

This is nothing like Team 7’s spars, all bloodied teeth and snarling as Sasuke underestimates her again and again and again. Kakashi, Sai, and Yamato know better. Naruto is learning slowly. Sasuke never pays attention enough to know.  

No, sparring with Lee is like dancing, is like thriving, and a fresh breath of air at night as fireworks light up the sky and a butterfly lands on your nose. 

She lands a kick to his ribs and spends him flying back as she advances swiftly, pinning him down with a hand on his chest, knees on either side of his hips. 

A long pause as they try to catch their breathes.

They’re both breathing heavily, Sakura cannot tear her eyes away from him as he reaches a hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear.

“Lee,” She breathes, ignoring the way her face burns and the way butterflies have swarmed her insides, how her heart is raging against her ribcage. “Lee I-”

“Sakura.” Lee says, voice deep and rumbly and cracking. “Sakura, will you go out to lunch with me? Forever. Well, hopefully forever- you are so very Youthful, you are incredibly Strong, you do not need my protection, but Sakura, let me protect you anyways, just as you will me. Sakura-”

She channels her inner Ino and leans down to kiss him, all lips, teeth and tongue. His hands settle on her waist and he flips them without breaking contact and if they weren’t in public, well. . .

Sakura pulls back breathless and wide eyes before forcing the words out, “I’ve known you for years Lee, you’re one of my best friends.” Her hand on his chest can feel the way his breath catches, the way his heart is pounding. “Everytime you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. They’ve bred and infested my very insides, my brain blooms and rots with the thought of you.” 

He is shaking beneath her, staring at her as if she is Divine and Righteous and she cannot think of anything else she would want except his eyes on her. 

“Lunch?” She breathes, hand at the base of his neck. “I would like to have lunch with you. Forever. If the offer still stands.” 

Lee smiles wide and bright as he stands, pulling Sakura up with him, “The offer will always stand, Sakura. For you, there is very little I would not do.”

She kisses him again and hand in hand they go to lunch.

Facts:

The very first day Lee saw Sakura a cocoon formed within his heart, everytime after that more would form, more would crack.

The butterflies and moths have a home in his heart but only come alive when they see her.

They never die, no matter what he does.

He saw her crack the world open with a first, saw her tear open a God’s chest. He was the first thing she looked at after. He thought he would become alight with it all.

Lee loves Sakura. He always has, he always will. His heart has a butterfly garden full of fireworks just for her.

Her laugh makes his skin prickle, makes his muscles loose. He is addicted to it.

She looks at him like she sees the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Lee revels in it.

Sakura loves Lee and it nearly breaks him.

He will take her out to lunch until the day they die and well after.

The butterflies and moths and fireworks never go away for either of them. It is the beauty of it all.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Femslash February (Day 14)

Prompt: Heart Fandom: Winx Club Pair: Icy/Lucy

Summary: Lucy asks Icy on a date. Icy accepts for the sake of humiliating the woman. She doesn't expect to actually enjoy her company.

Today on rarepairs; has anyone actually wrote for Icy/Lucy yet????

A paper bat wing, because hearts are too cliche. She slips it under the door and leaves in haste. She hopes that this time it will be reciprocated or appreciated.

She has a feeling that it won’t be reciprocated even slightly. More likely, she will be mocked and ridiculed again. What a fool she is to try to chase after someone so painfully obviously cold. Someone so far out of her league.

Why is her heart so...misguided? Why can’t it be as dark and warped as Cloud Tower itself. That would be wonderful. That would be easy. It would beat pining over a woman who would rather see her spelled and hexed into oblivion.

Even Mirta isn’t this foolish. Even Mirta isn’t setting herself up for this much humiliation.

And yet, she comes back to her dorm to find a note on the floor. Her hands shake as she opens it. She knows what she is going to find; she just isn’t sure how harsh and humiliating the rejection will be. Icy is mighty creative and her creativity has a razor’s edge.

It is frank and to the point, written in elegant cursive. The kind that she thought the ice witch ought to have. ‘Fine. 11:30 at the Broom & Hex Cafe.’ She stares at the silver ink, her hands shake with twice the force.

She has a date. She has a date and yet she can’t quite believe that she does. She knows exactly how this is going to end. Really there’s only one way that it can, realistically speaking. But,  how pathetic she is, she craves the witch so much that she is more than willing to face further humiliation just for a taste of what she craves. Just for a lovely little illusion.

.oOo.

“Oh she’s going to weep.” Stormy chuckles.

“She’s going to do more than weep by the time I’m through.” Icy vows.

“And here I thought that I was the devious, alluring one.” Darcy quirks a brow and runs her fingers through her locks.

“You just keep toying with Riven, I’ll make sure that Lucy doesn’t lurk outside our dorm ever again. I never was a fan of Fae Hearts's day, ladies. But this will be one to remember.”

“But wait!” Stormy bolts upright. “What if she, like, loses it and gets more obsessive and weird?”

“Then we’ll teach her another lesson.” Darcy shrugs.”

All she will have to do is endure one loathsome day. A few hours of false gushing and pseudo sweet talk will pave the way for days of wicked delight.

.oOo.

The cafe is particularly crowded when she arrives, dressed in her favorite ripped plaid dress and a set of matching arm warmers that are at least a size or two too big. She swallows and takes a deep breath as she searches the ice witch out. It only takes one quick sweep to know that she isn’t there--the woman is the sort to stand out rather starkly. But she does a second and third sweep anyhow.

She has to laugh, of course she wouldn’t even show up. That’s the oldest trick in the book. But she had so fervently hoped that Icy would at least pretend to love her for an hour or so.

“You’re early.”

Lucy jerks.

“You showed up?”

Icy quirks a brow. “You’re welcome.” She breezes by. “We’ll sit over there.” She points to the table at the very center of the room. The one that is already occupied. “I always sit there.”

“But that spot is already taken.”

She snaps her fingers and the platters on the table begin to wriggle and crawl. And then they are knocked to the floor as the couple scrambles away. Worms, grubs, and roaches turn back to soup, chili, and gummies. She snaps a second time and the mess is cleaned. “Looks vacant to me.”

“You’re terrible.”

“The vileist.” Icy smirks.

“It’s admirable.”

“Naturally.” She pulls out a chair. “Sit. Tell me about yourself, and make it good, I don’t waste my time on losers.”

“I’m not.”

“Convince me.”

She clears her throat. She hadn’t realized that this was going to be an interview. “I thought that this was a date.” She scoffs. “Not an interrogation.”

Icy crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

“I can play the guitar.” She caves.

“The guitar? I play myself. What brand and model?”

“I have a SpiderMistress, Cauldron Green. You?”

“SpiderMistress as well. Midnight Hex.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide. “How’d you get that? Those models are super expensive.”

“I won it at a competition a few years back.”

“Maybe we can, I don’t know, have some kind of practice together! Are you, Darcy, and Stormy in a band.”

Icy snickers. “We don’t have time for that. Though I suppose that Stormy is a pretty capable singer and Darcy wouldn’t be terrible on the drums.” She shrugs. “Anyways, it’s a useless hobby.”

“Why do you say that?”

She catches a flicker of something in the woman’s frigid eyes. Something sincere, sad, regretful? It is gone before she can decipher it. Gone so fast that she may have imagined it entirely. “It means nothing compared to higher goals. I have ambitions, real ambitions.”

“And talent.” Lucy declares. “I haven’t heard you play but you’re good at everything else you do.”

“True.” Icy replies. “But I’ve been told that my talents are best invested elsewhere. I think I’d like a bigger following than a handful of groupies.”

The way groupies rolls off of her tongue. That pointed stare… Lucy’s heart sinks. She is pathetic, she knows that she is. Really she isn’t much better than a groupie and Icy isn’t even famous. She pushes it down and tries to play it off. “Yeah. Why settle for less when you can have more?” She wonders if she is settling for less by trying for someone who thinks of her as less.

“Yes, that’s a good question. Why would I settle for less.”

Lucy’s heart sinks further.

“My powers are nice and all but I think that with a touch of dragon fire magic…” she trails off and takes a spoonful of ice cream. “That’ll make a real show, don’t you think?”

Lucy nods vigorously. “I mean your magic is amazing the way it is. You’re the most powerful witch that I know. But how badass would it be to have fire and ice magic?” She is kissing so much ass. Gushing and rambling and making a fool of herself. She wishes that they could just stick to talking about guitars. “What would you do with all of that power?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Icy replies. She holds out her spoon, “have a taste.”

She wants to, desperately, just to taste the witch on her tongue. But how sadly desperate would that look. “After you licked it?” She crinkles her nose.

Icy scoffs. “How do you plan to…” she leans in closer. “Make out if you can’t even share a spoon with me.”

Lucy swallows. “Licking a spoon isn’t as exciting as making out. All or nothing.” She does a lot of big talk for someone with such low confidence.

Icy quirks a brow. “All or nothing.” She shrugs. And with an alarming abruptness, she pulls Lucy in by the collar and plants her lips upon hers. They are as frosty as she had expected and she tastes of spearmint and cigarettes. She smells of it too. She tangles her long blue fingernails in her hair. She is vicious and merciless, it’s exhilarating.

And she pulls back. “Wow, that was the most underwhelming kiss I’ve ever had. Usually they at least try to impress me.”

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Improv, my dear.” She drawls. She leans back once more, draping her hands on the arm rests.

And something snaps. Something that should have snapped ages ago. But it comes as a desire. A desire to shove the chair over if only to see that smug, conceited smirk crack. To shatter the woman’s ego if only for a moment.

“You know what, I don’t know why I tried!” She stands up with a quickness that knocks the chair to the floor. She has to keep her momentum before it vacates. “I think that it’s because I feel bad for you. You’re hollow and shallow and...and…” her lip twitches into a snarl, “you aren’t as amazing as you think you are. Do you even think that you’re amazing?” She isn’t sure how to end her rant so she finishes with the first thing that comes to mind, “you can have the most expensive guitar on the market but that doesn’t mean that you have the talent to play it.”  

And it is gone, that smug, conceited look. Gone and she hadn’t had to even raise a fist. She balls them both and makes her way to the door. She has dignity. She has self-respect.

And she deserves more than a stupid game. All or nothing. All of the nothing in the world is better than letting herself chase after one moment of false love. Her heart isn’t so foolish as she had thought.

.oOo.

It wasn’t supposed to have gone like that. Lucy wasn’t supposed to have left. That was her role. She rubs her hands over her face. She was supposed to be doing the humiliating. Not that she hadn’t been able to save herself the worst of it with a remark about how dramatic witches these days are.

But that isn’t it. That isn’t what keeps itching and clawing at her mind. She lightly raps her fist against her forehead, as though she can knock the deeper, more disturbing implications from her mind.

She wishes that the woman would have just flinched and cried like the rest of them. She wishes that Lucy were as unbearable, cringe-inducing, and repulsive as she had assumed that she would be. She was supposed to have been intolerably embarrassing to be around.

She wasn’t supposed to have talked about guitars or bands or anything that Icy is thoroughly and truly interested in. She wasn’t supposed to have made these things sound so intriguing and worth investing time into. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to have shown any teeth.

Icy doesn’t think that anyone has had the balls to stand up to her so publicly and, God, how intriguing it is. She cringes to herself. Not Lucy. Not loser Lucy. It can’t be her of all people. Especially not after the game she’d tried to play. The game that she’d lost.

Lost and swapped decks. She inhales deeply. She supposes that she will just have to do what she does well, encase her heart in ice much thicker and colder than before. The feeling will pass, it always does. She has just as little time for romance as she does for silly guitar riffs.

She lays back and stares at the ceiling until Darcy and Stormy enter.

.oOo.

She notices Icy lingering. Lingering and, dare she say, lurking. It is almost laughable.  It could be that she is waiting for an opportunity to strike, watching and observing for weaknesses, an opening to take her vengeance. But somehow she senses that this isn’t the case.

No. The witch is exuding the very same energy that she once had.

She thinks that it would be plenty satisfying to march right up to her and let her know that she has been well aware of her presence and watch her stumble over a lie about how she had only been stalking about for the sake of feeling out the enemy.

It would be satisfying twice over to make a scene of it, to deal out the same brand of humiliation that the ice witch had intended for her. If only Lucy didn’t still feel so drawn to her. If only Icy wasn’t  everything she admired in a person; bold, confident, suave, and cool. If only she weren’t so beautiful in a cutting, razorlike way that is all her own.

She can very well toy with the woman, blackmail and mock her, rouse her hatred and contemptment. She can’t help but do so at least a little. “See something you like?” She calls into the hallway. She expects the woman to slink away with a muttered curse or two. Instead she slips out into the open and leans against the frame of the door with her arms folded across her chest as though she had intended to be seen in the first place.

“Perhaps a few things.” She flicks her hair. “We didn’t finish our date, Lucy.”

“I lost interest.”

Icy quirks a brow, “did you?”

She wishes that she had. “Mostly.”

“That’s a shame.” She shrugs. “I admit, you piqued mine. I didn’t realize that you had fight.”

It occurs to her that perhaps the ice witch is very much into that. Into someone who is willing to get in her face and fight back. She can’t imagine that many people would.

“It’s compelling. Keeps things intense.” She continues.

“Well, while you look for fights, I’m going to look for respect.” Now that she has found it she isn’t willing to let it go so easily.

Icy is quiet for a moment. “You have already.”

“Was that a compliment?”

.oOo.

The deeper this conversation goes the less worth she thinks it has. She is going to make a fool of herself, and for what? Love? That isn’t the downfall she has in mind for herself. “Don’t push your luck, Lucy. I still have curses and hexes that will…”

“Make me regret ever setting foot in Cloud Tower? Yeah, I get the gist.”

“Do you?”

“Get to the point. Are you here to hex me or kiss me?”

Really, why not both? “I guess that, that’s up to you.” Though she supposes that she’d much prefer to have another go at the woman’s lips. “Show me what you can do now that you’re prepared.”

Lucy grips the door and Icy is certain that it is about to slam in her face. Instead the woman damn near throws her into the wall. Her kiss is rough, almost savage. Intriguing. She curls her fingers into strands of dark green hair and adds a frosty edge of her own. And then Lucy pulls back as abruptly as she had engaged. Her breathing is still decently ragged. “Improv, my dear.” She says again, “can make or break the moment, do you understand now.”

Lucy nods. “Perfectly.”

“Well then...” Icy trails a finger over the woman’s cheek, content to have taken back at least some control.

“Well then, what?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Are you interested in a real date?”

“Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?”

Icy rolls her eyes, “I’m the one who decides what’s in and what’s out. Welcome to the in crowd, Lucy.” So long as she keeps up with her newfound confidence she will stay for quite a long time. And with luck Icy won’t have to do any of the work to keep her at the top. “It suits you better, Lucy. This, self-respect thing.”

.oOo.

A second date. A real date. Her heart thrums faster than it has in a while. And the ice witch doesn’t think that she’s pathetic. And when they speak in the halls it feels different, she doesn’t call her a loser this time. She doesn’t dismiss her, doesn’t mock her with Darcy and Stormy when she is just on the fringes of earshot.

It doesn’t take terribly long for the two of them to get used to her stopping by the dorm. They still whisper. She still hears them questioning and pestering Icy. Icy invites her over more. Icy makes a point of slinking as close to her as possible, of getting handsy, of initiating deep kisses. “If they hate what your doing,” she mutters in Lucy’s ear, her voice husky with passion, “do it in front of them, exaggerate it, give them something to really talk about.”

She wonders if Icy has always been so bold or if it is the product of trial and error and one big sweeping success that has driven her to the top.

“You have much more allure when you aren’t copying everything that I do.”

“I’ve found that there isn’t anything worth copying.” Lucy smirks.

Icy gives a haughty sniff, “fuck you, Lucy.” She grabs her by the scruff of her shirt and pulls her onto the bed.

She wishes that she would have found her sense of self worth earlier.