#Chakra Bar Soap

[ohai-there]

scumplane narut for the ask game!

@croutonconfidential Sorry for the delay! I got cooked!

Including this post and this post!

"Regarding the criminal you're pursuing," Minato says, grabbing the report scroll his ANBU had presented to him this morning, "a large explosion of chakra was felt to the west of the village and once we sent in teams to investigate, they reported a large crater in the forest. We've also received reports about the man sharing the description given wandering through some of our rural towns, injured. I've had a team follow him from a distance, since."

Shen Qingqiu raises a perfectly sculpted brow, "straight into business, hm?" and Shang Qinghua elbows him in the ribs and gets a sharp slap of fan over the head for it, "Martial Elder Brother Shen, they have different customs from us. You can't expect them to go for a gift-giving ceremony."

Minato pauses, was he supposed to be giving gifts to the Guests??? But Shen Qingqiu just snorts, his face as smooth as jade as he flicks an arm out and just says, "Ming Fan."

One of the disciples, the one who had knocked on the carriage door, steps forward and clasps his hands together, the back of his palms facing Minato, "Hokage-sama," he says, bows lightly, and slips one hand into his long, long sleeve.

Minato can feel his ANBU tensing, preparing for a weapon to be drawn, but Minato keeps his body relaxed as a show of trust.

Ming Fan pulls out a large, gold-gilded wooden box from within his sleeves, was he carrying that with him this entire time??? and no one noticed????? and he presents it with both hands and a shallow bow.

"For your hospitality," Shen Qingqiu says disdainfully, "to show our appreciation for your assistance."

"Ah," Shang Qinghua says, "right. Disciple One, my gift as well."

One of the women steps forward, her own heavy wooden box in her hands. It's inlaid with blue gemstones of all colours and silver detailing and Minato can feel the wealth radiating from the box itself.

"Of course," Shang Qinghua introduces, "gold. We weren't sure if spirit stones would be in circulation here, beyond the barrier, so gold is always a safe option. A tea set, made from the master who lives atop of the Great Eastern Mountain bordering the Demonic Realm, made with the volcanic ash of the mountain pressed into the porcelain that enhances the taste of tea steeped within."

The woman opens the box, allowing Minato to peek in and see a shining, smooth teapot and four teacups within - there's golden tree branches and fluttering leaves painted into them, and when the light shifts he swears he can see them sway - below the teaset tray, he catches a glimpse of golden bars and his stomach aches.

Then, she reaches to the front and slides open a front drawer, one that had seamlessly blended into the outside of the box and sitting on velvet is a chunk of wood.

"Incense," Shang Qinghua says cheerfully, "from a hundred-year old spiritual sandalwood tree, it's said to bring good fortune and prosperity for those who burn it. It also smells really good. Undertones of soap!"

The woman slides all of the compartments closed, the wood clicking back into place softly, and Minato almost reaches out to take it but hesitates, because neither Shen Qingqiu nor Shang Qinghua have held, much less touched, the boxes.

"Boar," he says and ANBU Boar flickers down, understanding Minato's silent command easily, and takes the box, standing behind him openly and stiffly, not unaffected by the value of the box in his hands.

"I have brought," Shen Qingqiu says, voice silk and commanding attention, "a brush set; each bristle is the very tip fiber of the flight feathers from the Venomous Six-Tailed Goose and the ink is made by Master Wu of the Western Sun Estate - the same master who creates all of the ink sets for my own Scholarly Peak."

Distantly, Minato hears Shang Qinghua mumble something that sounds like, "my budget," but his attention is taken by Ming Fan displaying the stationary within the box easily and Minato has to keep his face from twitching at seeing even more gold in the box beneath the tray. Beside it is another, smaller wooden box, and Shen Qingqiu seems to notice Minato's curiousity because he smirks in a way that makes Minato want to curl up on the ground in humiliation or perhaps get on his knees to beg to see it again.

"Apt observation," his fan comes out, fwip, and flutters lightly before Shen Qingqiu's smug expression, "Tea from our sect's Flower Peak."

"What." Shang Qinghua says, seeming to freeze in laser focus at his fellow Peak Lord, "what do you mean Tea from our Flower Peak."

Shen Qingqiu ignores him, directly addressing Minato, "This is the seventh-grade five-hundred-year tea, planted and raised by our very own Martial Younger Brother Li."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Shang Qinghua shrieks, his hands waving around comically, "ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET HOKAGE-SAMA KILLED?!"

What.

Shan Qingqiu sniffs, "hardly. Martial Younger Brother Li owes me after I went hunting for the instructional methods of raising the All-Devouring Demonic Succulents through multiple libraries."

"SO YOU'RE TRYING TO GET ME KILLED!? HE'S BEEN CARING FOR THOSE TEA LEAVES FOR FIVE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO YEARS! HE TALKS TO THEM EVERY MORNING AND NIGHT!!!! DID YOU EVEN ASK BEFORE TAKIN- oh heavens above, he doesn't even know you took them, does he? Does he?"

"Cease your flailing," Shen Qingqiu brushes off where Shang Qinghua had clung to his robes in his panic, "Hokage-sama, please ignore this foolish idiot's words. The tea will bring no harm to you, Yingying," Minato watches as the only other woman in the procession bounces forward, taking the small box out to display it proudly to Minato, who hesitantly leans forward to peek at the green leaves.

A soft, delicate, yet heady scent floats into his nose and Minato wonders faintly if he's going to be poisoned.

"No harm? No harm? People have been assassinated over this tea -let me see it- YOU'RE GIVING HIM SO MUCH!?" Shang Qinghua splutters and there's a sharp smack as Shen Qingqiu hits his fellow Peak Lord over the head, "really, it's only enough to extend his youth for about a hundred years, especially since these people have such lacking spiritual compatibility. It's hardly anything to get worked up about."

"A HUNDRED YEARS IS A LONG TIME FOR MORTALS!!!!! PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED OVER OUR SHITTY SECOND GRADE TEA THAT ONLY GIVES LIKE!!! TEN YEARS OF YOUTH!!!! SEVENTH GRADE!!!!! WHAT IF THE EMPEROR WANTS TO BUY OUR TEA AGAIN? WE'RE NOT GIVING HIM EIGHTH GRADE! HE CAN'T AFFORD THAT! "

Shang Qinghua has his head in his hands, pulling at his scalp in distress, and Minato feels about half of his despair. A hundred years is a long time, Konoha had been founded a hundred years ago. Minato never really thought he'd make it to forty, much less any longer, and to be at peak physical health for a hundred years, the thought makes him dizzy.

"As grating as Martial Younger Brother Shang is, he does bring up a good point, Hokage-sama. I would highly recommend consuming all of the tea as soon as possible, lest others find you in the way of their own quests to immortality." A wave of Shen Qingqiu's hand has Yingying putting the box of tea back into the larger box, and Ming Fan closing it fully. Shang Qinghua groans, "I could've sold it for a palace."

Minato stares at him, a bit uncomprehending, as his mind tries to make sense of the absurd situation before him. He needs - he needs to take the gift, take the tea, but with the sheer value of the leaves he needs someone he can trust, entirely, to take care of it.

"Hound," he says, watching as Hounds small frame flits from the rafters to the ground, head bowed low. Minato hears the two women squeal and titter as Hound takes the box, it looks comically large in the slight teenager's hands. Shang Qinghua moans out something like, "my palace."

"Very well," Shen Qingqiu says, his fan slips closed and into his sleeve, "with all our formalities out of the way, lets get down to business."

[crystalbarsoap0]

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[collegiatesins]

the  door  swung  shut  with  the  dramatics  of  a  curtain  call,  and  zahara  didn’t  need  to  turn  around  to  know  who  had  walked  in  like  he  owned  the  place.  they  could  hear  it  in  the  cadence  of  his  voice:  too  bright,  too  proud,  some  boyish  alchemy  of  mischief  and  affection  that  always  wrapped  around  them  like  sun-warmed  linen.  “  and  where  did  you  acquire  these  gifts?  from  your  adoring  fans  i  assume?    ”  they  say  without  looking  up.  voice  was  low  and  amused,  almost  fond  enough  to  be  dangerous.  still,  she  shifted  on  her  comforter,  instinctively  making  room  for  him,  like  always.  an  unspoken  ritual.  they  caught  the  smell  before  they  caught  the  sight.  salt  and  peanut  butter,  chocolate  and  something  like  shampoo  clinging  to  him  from  his  mad  dash  down  the  hall.  he  dumped  himself  and  his  entire  snack  pilfering  bounty  onto  their  bed  like  a  cat  gifting  dead  birds,  looking  entirely  too  pleased  with  himself  as  he  collapsed  in  an  unceremonious  sprawl  beside  them.  a  pop-tart  packet  hit  their  hip;  a  bag  of  something  gummy  settled  in  the  crook  of  their  knee  like  it  belonged  there.  “  you,  ”  zee  said,  slowly,  as  if  coming  to  a  conclusion  that  had  haunted  philosophers.  “  are  the  patron  saint  of  well  intentioned  chaos.  a  walking,  talking  serotonin  disruption.  do  you  know  that?  ”  he  didn’t.  or  he  did  and  didn’t  care  —  more  likely.  soren  thrived  in  the  sacred  act  of  being  too  much.  “  no  oz  tonight,  ”  she  confirmed,  brushing  a  granola  bar  off  her  thigh  with  regal  disinterest.  “  he’s  in  his  room,  communing  with  the  spirits  of  miles  davis  and  virginia  woolf.  ”  which  was  a  kinder  way  of  saying  their  roommate  had  an  english  paper  due.  she  turned  to  him  then,  folding  her  legs  beneath  her  and  eyeing  him  like  one  might  eye  a  hurricane  that  had  been  invited  indoors.  he  looked  at  home.  lounging  like  he  was  auditioning  to  be  part  of  the  furniture,  guitar  case  yawning  beside  him  like  an  exhausted  companion.  and  then,  the  kicker.  he  called  her  bluff,  like  he  always  did.  where’s  my  angry  face,  zee?  he  asked,  too  delighted  for  someone  supposedly  seeking  punishment.  she  huffed.  rolling  her  eyes  like  she’d  been  personally  slighted  by  the  request.  and  then  with  all  the  conviction  of  a  soap  opera  villain  and  none  of  the  venom,  zahara  drew  herself  up,  back  straight,  eyes  narrowed  to  slits,  lips  pursed  like  a  teacher  catching  a  kid  in  the  act. 

“  soren  thomposn,  ”  she  intoned,  voice  rich  with  mock  judgment.  “  you  have  trespassed  upon  sacred  ground  armed  with  contraband  sugar  and  the  audacity  of  a  man  who  thinks  he’s  charming  enough  to  get  away  with  it.  which…irritatingly…you  might  be.  ”  their  composure  cracked  a  moment  later,  laughter  bubbling  up,  warm  and  helpless,  like  a  champagne  cork  popping.  “  you’re  insufferable,  ”  they  added,  reaching  across  him  to  grab  the  sleeve  of  reese’s  cups  with  an  air  of  tragic  resignation.  “  and  clearly  too  powerful.  i’m  going  to  have  to  smudge  the  room  after  you  leave.  cleanse  the  energy.  realign  my  chakras.  light  seventeen  candles.  ”  and  yet  zee  was  smiling,  sun-drenched  and  soft  despite  themself.  she  tore  open  the  packet  and  offered  him  one  like  a  communion  wafer.  “  you  didn’t  give  me  enough  time  to  practice.  ”  she  said,  quiet,  like  a  secret.  “ now quit blinding me under the spotlight of your smug attention, you're the one whose supposed to be in the hotseat. where's the song? ”

for: zahara visser ( @collegiatesins ) where: zee's dorm

After two swift, perfunctory knocks, Soren entered Zahara’s room like it was his own. It was how they’d moved around one another since he first transferred to Palladian - as if they’d perfected the art of existing in each other’s space from decades of practice instead of a small handful of years. “I come bearing gifts!” He called, kicking the door closed behind him and brandishing a multitude of assortments of bagged snacks proudly. A month of washing dishes in the student cafeteria had him set for life, even when he had to quit when the workload of classes proved to be more strenuous than he was prepared for, but flirting with the widowed kitchen manager usually still got him what he wanted to that day. Even when she warned him he was pushing it after begging for a sleeve of Reese’s cups.

“No Oz tonight?” He asked, noting how empty and quiet it was in her room. Until he entered - a girl he’d been seeing once said she couldn’t handle dating him anymore out of fear that she’d need hearing aids within the year. All at once, Soren dumped everything onto her bed - the snacks, shouldering off his guitar next, and then himself, spreading himself out on her duvet with a huff. “Fuck me, it’s hard work traveling all over for you, y’know.” She lived just down the hall from him. “Well?” He raised an expectant brow at her. “Before we get started I was promised an angry face - you practiced and everything. I’m pretty much the most polite person on the planet and it’d be objectively rude if I didn’t let you demonstrate.” Soren couldn’t imagine Zee mean or grumpy a day in her life - he was genuinely invested in what this would look like. “C’mon, baby - strike some fear into my heart! Maybe the adrenaline rush will, like, knock some brain cells loose, get my brain into gear again.”

[madcatterslovinglathers]

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[doulamultihands]

Soap bars will be back in rotation soon.

These Lemon Drop bars create energy, uplifting, a happy vibe and a sense of peace, stimulates and inspires

{Manipura/Solar Plexus: this color symbolizes energy, intellect, represents youth, new beginnings, birth, rebirth.

Is the third chakra located above the navel/abdominal. Connects to ego. When I’m balance brings harmony, protection, and self-esteem.}

[dilly-oh]

Haircare no Jutsu

He’s wearing the red hair-tie today, Kakashi noted with satisfaction, walking down the hallway behind Iruka. An excellent choice. It perfectly accentuated the subtle reddish tones in his hair, highlighting them to perfection. His ponytail bounced with every step, the strands gleaming in the sun-rays cast through the nearby window.

Kakashi had been obsessed with Iruka’s hair for longer than he cared to admit. But hey, everyone had their quirks, especially Jounin. At least his didn’t involve green spandex and dazzling teeth. He was practically normal compared to the others.

He daydreamed about Iruka’s hair constantly, imagining running his fingers through the silken strands, pressing his face against them to smell their subtle scent. He imagined pulling Iruka's hair free from that cruel hair tie, brushing it till it gleamed, then separating it into three portions and twisting them into a thick braid. No, wait, a French one? He couldn’t decide. Still lost in internal debate, he walked closely behind Iruka, eyes glued to his hair.

Which is why he failed to see the loose tile jutting out of the floor in front of him.

Now, the Copy-nin of Konoha, feared by countless enemies and Missing-Nin alike, did not trip.

He merely attacked the loose tile with his toe, lurched forward for a better stance, wind-milled his arms about wildly to ward off any incoming attacks from enemies, and face-planted into the nearest object.

Which happened to be Iruka’s ponytail.

One time, while on an A-rank mission to Suna, Kakashi, half-dead from chakra exhaustion, had accidentally fallen into a patch of prickly cactuses.

This was worse than that.

Iruka’s ponytail was not soft and silky, fragrant and luxurious as he’d dared to dream. It was like a briar patch, bristly as hell, the strands broken and split and dry as a bone. Kakashi counted himself lucky his hitai-ate was covering one eye already so he only had to worry about losing the other one. This close, he could see the horrible split ends and flakes of dandruff with awful detail.

“Yeeeoooowch!!”

The cry echoed through the hallway, reverberating off the walls. Several heads poked out of doors to stare curiously, caught sight of Iruka’s face, and retreated.

“That’s my line,” Iruka grumbled, turning to confront him while rubbing the back of his head gingerly. “What the hell was that about?” Kakashi just gaped at him for a long moment, aghast, his hopes and dreams crumbling before him.

“Good God! Is my face bleeding?!” he blurted aloud.

“It’s about to be if you don’t start explaining yourself,” Iruka snapped back irritably, crossing his arms. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“It felt like I fell on a wad of steel wool!” Kakashi cried. “What the hell kind of hair product do you use?! Bar soap?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Iruka huffed at him. Kakashi felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life. “I use my three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body-wash.” The glimmer of hope promptly whimpered, curled up, and died.

“Alright. That’s it. I’m confiscating this,” Kakashi said, twirling the red hair-band around his pinky finger. Iruka’s hair immediately flopped down around his face, sticking out in all directions like an unkempt bird’s nest and further destroying every one of Kakashi’s secret fantasies.

“Hey!” Iruka cried in outrage, shoving his hair aside. “Give that back!”

“You’ll get it back when you learn to treat your hair better.”

“Whatever, I have like three more,” Iruka snorted, rolling his eyes. He reached into his pockets, searching for a few moments, then frowned in confusion. “What the…?” He looked up to see Kakashi twiddling his fingers at him, each digit encircled by a colored band. “When- how did you- give those back!”

“Oh, I will,” Kakashi assured him, “but I have some…demands.”

“You’re holding my hair-ties ransom. You’re unbelievable.”

“Firstly, you-”

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“-let me wash your hair,” Kakashi finished.

“Ew. Why?” Iruka made a face. “That’s just an excuse to get me naked, you creep.” Kakashi huffed impatiently.

“You don’t have to get naked, just take your shirt off-”

“And then I’m already halfway there. Forget it.”

“-and then I’ll bend you over the bathroom sink and-”

“I SAID FORGET IT!” Iruka exploded, his face flushing a near-match of his hair-tie. “I have two jobs! I spend all day at the Academy babysitting children who are trying to kill each other, and then all night at the Mission Desk babysitting Jounin trying to kill each other. I don’t have time for stupid things like treating my hair with the ninja art of deep conditioning.”

“Then you’re not getting your hair-ties back,” Kakashi said with finality, squaring his shoulders.

“You know what? Keep them.” Iruka turned away in a huff. “I’ll just go buy more.” And with that, he stormed away. Kakashi narrowed his eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered, hands flashing quickly in a series of signs. Several clones puffed into existence and with a short word, dispersed on their newest mission.

---

“The HELL do you mean, out of stock?!” Iruka shouted at the store clerk in outrage. The man flinched back in fear, cowering behind the counter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ninja, sir, but someone came in not five minutes ago and bought the whole lot of hair-ties,” he babbled. “Every single one! We won’t be getting more in another shipment until-”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Iruka cut him off, mind working furiously. “I’ll take… rubber bands. String. I don’t care, I’ll buy it.”

The clerk simply stared at him in mute horror, eyes wide. Iruka sighed.

“…They bought all of those, too, didn’t they?”

“…Yes, yes they did.”

Iruka paused, a sudden suspicion dawning on him.

“This person didn’t happen to have ridiculous silver hair and a mask, did they?”

The eyes went even wider, threatening to pop out. “Please don’t kill me,” the clerk whispered.

“Calm down, it’s not your fault. I’ll just…” Iruka chewed on his lip, mentally mapping out Konoha and his other prospects. “I’ll try elsewhere. Thank you.”

But it was the same story at every shop in Konoha.

So Iruka changed tactics. Not that it made any difference.

It didn’t matter who he begged one off of (Anko, Ino, even Shikamaru, who rolled his eyes in exasperation, as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough already), within five minutes it had either magically disappeared or snapped for no reason and his hair flopped back down over his eyes, prickly and annoying- not that Kakashi had a point or anything.

Even his own home wasn’t safe. Iruka didn’t know how, but someone had snuck in and removed everything that could even potentially serve as a hair tie, even rags and bandages. Iruka suspected Kakashi had won over Naruto with promises of all-you-can-eat ramen. He had half a mind to bring his complaint to the Hokage herself, before realizing she would probably find it hilarious and cackle like a loon for hours. So, no. Better to just deal with it himself.

---

Iruka was a hard man to break, Kakashi would give him that. After a whole week of this charade and no sign of the sensei’s resolve weakening, he’d earned his respect. But it couldn’t last forever. He had to give up at some point. Everyone had their limit. Kakashi smirked, raising a hand to study the red band still wrapped around his pinky. Yes, any minute now…

“I’m not going to break, so piss off!” Iruka shouted from inside his apartment. Kakashi, who’d been sitting on the roof, jumped. The man was more perceptive than he’d thought. His respect went up another notch.

“You sure about that?” he asked, popping his head in through the window. It was Iruka’s turn to jump. Then he swore, grabbed him by the vest, and hauled him inside the apartment, which was just as messy and unkempt as his hair. Because, you know, two jobs or whatever. Kakashi caught sight of a pair of pink boxers splayed on the couch before Iruka spun him around to glare point-blank in his face.  

“What the hell do you even care if my hair isn’t perfect? Life is not a fucking shampoo commercial,” he demanded. Kakashi shrugged.

“I had expectations. Dreams. How dare you break my fragile, innocent heart.” He swooned and clutched his chest dramatically.

“I’m gonna break something else of yours in a minute.” Iruka scowled at him, stewing in fury. “It’s none of your business, anyway. My hair, my choice. Deal with it.”

“I refuse.” Kakashi glared right back, refusing to stand down. “It’s a matter of honor.”

“Oh, please! Like yours is any better!” Iruka burst out, stepping forward to plunge his hands into Kakashi’s thick mane. “You’re always out on a mission, don’t tell me you have the time to- merciful God it’s like I’m petting one of those fluffy Inazuka dogs.” Iruka stared at him in shock. “How the hell do you get it so soft and silky? Haircare no Jutsu?”

“Don’t be silly,” Kakashi scoffed. Iruka just gave him a flat stare. “…Alright, yes, I infuse my shampoo with a little chakra for extra volume. Sue me.”

“I’m considering it, after all the harassment,” Iruka muttered darkly, his hands still in Kakashi��s hair. Kakashi had to fight back a shudder of pleasure as his fingertips scraped across a particularly sensitive area. Finally Iruka removed his hands (Kakashi stifling a disappointed whimper) and frowned in consternation. “…I just have to let you wash my hair once?”

“Sure,” Kakashi answered with a nod. “…And then you are legally obligated to follow a strict hair-care routine dictated by me-”

“ONCE.” Iruka held up a finger, expression firm. “That’s it. That’s the deal. Then you leave me alone.”

Kakashi weighed his options. He could keep running around Konoha, using up his chakra on clones and buying up every bit of material that could serve as a hair-tie, following Iruka around till he was old and even grayer and broke.  

…Or he could just wash his hair right now and be done with it.

“Alright, fine,” he agreed. “Let me wash your hair and we’re good.” Rather than look triumphant like he expected, Iruka hesitated, biting his lip uneasily and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“…Promise you won’t take advantage of me,” he said, voice quiet and serious for once.

Kakashi solemnly placed a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

And then Iruka took his shirt off and Kakashi had never regretted making a promise more in his LIFE. He truly was that tan all over, with white scars scattered here and there like constellations, accentuating the toned muscles and hard flesh.

“Oh, wait,” Iruka said, “what am I thinking? You probably need to go to your place and get-” Kakashi wordlessly held up his shampoo and conditioner bottles. Iruka blinked. “…Of fucking course.”

---

Iruka’s bathroom was just as untidy as the rest of the apartment, half-empty three-in-one shampoo bottles and dirty clothes strewn everywhere. For some reason, the fact that he was a complete slob did nothing to detract from Kakashi’s burgeoning attraction to the man.

“If you please,” Kakashi said politely, rolling up his sleeves and nodding towards the sink.

“I am not tipping,” Iruka sniffed haughtily as he stepped forward. His eyes lingered on Kakashi’s bared hands and arms for a moment before jerking away. He leaned over the sink, which, thankfully, seemed large enough to accommodate an impromptu hair-washing. Kakashi turned the tap on, careful to adjust the water temperature to a pleasant degree, then eased Iruka forward into the spray with a gentle hand. The other man grumbled, but kept still as Kakashi thoroughly wetted his hair, careful to get every bit. When he was satisfied, he pulled out his shampoo and poured a dollop into one hand, paused, then poured some more. Might as well make it count.

“Hurry up, I’m getting water up my nose,” Iruka muttered, head still under the spray. “And water all over the rest of me, too.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Kakashi forced himself to concentrate on washing Iruka’s hair and not his glistening, muscled back. He sank his fingers deep into the dry, bristly hair and scrubbed gently, lathering up the soap, making sure to pay special attention to the scalp and roots.

The shampoo was his own special recipe, imbued with his own personal chakra for extra strength and luster. He rinsed it out after several minutes, then applied the conditioner. After one more rinse, he was done, and he stepped back, allowing Iruka to straighten. Kakashi turned away to find a towel, snatched the cleanest-looking one from a shelf, and turned back.

I’ve made a horrible mistake, Kakashi realized immediately. I can’t let others see him like this. He’s too beautiful.

Iruka on a bad day was a knockout. Iruka, gloriously shirtless and gleaming, with his wet hair pooling like ink around his face and shoulders, was a vision fit for the Gods. Kakashi stood frozen, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Unaware of the other man’s dilemma, Iruka raked a hand through his hair, pushing the wet strands off his face. Kakashi gulped, his throat suddenly dry and tight. A long, tense pause drew out between the two of them like a taut bow-string.

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

“…Huh?” Kakashi stared at him, blinking.

“Make a move already, you idiot.” Iruka stood there in his shirtless glory, arms crossed over his tanned chest, wet, glistening hair framing his face. “You’ve already got me half-naked and everything.”

Kakashi sputtered incoherently for a few seconds, shaking his head.

“I...I can't, I promised-” he choked out.

“Oh my God come here.” Iruka grabbed Kakashi by the front of his shirt and reeled him in like a prize catch. Kakashi did his part, gaping at him like a fish, wide-eyed in shock. Iruka scoffed, then leaned in close enough for their lips to brush teasingly. “I never promised not to take advantage of you, dumbass.”

Kakashi was not about to argue.

---

Years later, he still kept the red band around his pinky, right next to the wedding ring that winked in the sunlight.

-End-

Months ago, I was chosen to be a pinch-hitter for the Kakairuzine (I would step in if someone had to leave), so I completed two fics in case they were needed. Since they aren’t, I might as well upload them here. This is the second and final fic. Enjoy!

[kosmerta]

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[catflorist]

The Garden (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: SasuSaku. Sasuke left Konoha for a cottage in the woods. One day, Sakura arrives injured at his doorstep. They recall their past and think about what comes next. Slow burn, post-canon, about how Sasuke and Sakura grew close again. Rated T through Chapter 5, then M. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

The Garden  Chapter 2

True to the instincts of a traveling shinobi on constant alert, the instant Sakura opened her eyes in the morning light she was awake.

She spotted a pitcher of water and a wooden cup beside her bed, next to a platter of bread and a selection of fruit. Sitting up, the water was down her throat before she could even think. She filled the cup again and drank slower this time, testing out her limbs one by one. The location of her old wound was smooth as if it hadn’t been open and bleeding half a day before. Except for an ache in her skull, not a whisper of pain remained in her body.

After quenching her thirst, Sakura reached for the food and began chewing. Her eyes fell upon a third offering next to her bedside: a folded pile of clothes. Her skin twitched under its layer of grime, dirt, and blood. She vowed to bathe before dressing in the clean clothes.

Basic needs met, Sakura shifted her attention to her surroundings. The interior of the cottage was small, with tall ceilings, and built in the traditional style. Except for hand-carvings decorating the door and window frames, there were no frills. Leaves pressed up against windows and morning light dappled the room. The sound of nearby moving water and the smell of dried wood soothed her senses.

Sakura sorted through the clothes Sasuke had left. There were loose pants and a shirt that were clearly his. A rough bar of soap. He had even thought of underthings: a pair of cropped shorts, wrappings for her chest snatched from a medical kit and coiled in a careful bundle. Heat prickled her cheeks as she eyed the last two items.

The events of yesterday filtered through her mind. She stilled, remembering the sensation of Sasuke’s chakra coursing through her, healing her. The soft weight of his hand on her skin.

Sakura could not believe she was here. Part of her had expected never to see Sasuke again.

Sakura couldn’t help it: she thought back to months ago, before he decided to leave the village for the third time.

* * * *

Once Sakura learned how to read the signs of Sasuke’s friendship, they were everywhere.

As Genin, after her one-sided infatuation with Sasuke had transformed into mutual respect and understanding, she learned the subtle ways in which he expressed his affection. He always listened when she spoke, even if he sometimes only responded with silence, a grunt, or a rare smirk. When it was his turn to cook on Team Seven missions, he reserved the crispy crust of rice at the bottom of the pot—the okoge—for her. She could never recall informing him of this preference. As they learned how to fight, he corrected her form and technique without mercy, but scowled at Naruto if he also commented on Sakura’s performance. Racked with the pain of Orochimaru’s curse mark during the Chunin exams, he had reached desperately for her hand and squeezed.

She could never reconcile these old memories of Sasuke with the memories of him that gave her nightmares. Those jerked her out of sleep, shaking and convinced he was still pressing a kunai blade to her neck.

When Sasuke returned to the village after his period of wandering, they had both grown and changed. As Genin on Team Seven, common experiences, hopes, and fears united them.

Now they were both adults, each defined by experiences and efforts that were unknown to the other. They had been enemies. Sakura didn’t know how to be around him anymore.

* 

Sakura left the hospital late one night.

In the cool night air, her heart leap with joy and pride. Another group of students training under her in medical ninjutsu had graduated that day and joined her growing cohort. Sakura was committed to Tsunade’s dream of lowering the mortality rate on missions by dispatching a medical-nin with each team. Slowly but surely, she was increasing the number of shinobi in the village with medical knowledge.

Sasuke rounded the corner of the empty street. Sakura nearly jumped. She was still not used to the sight of him in the village. He had returned to Konoha a month ago in the spring. They had not spoken much.

He nodded at her, acknowledging her presence. She nodded back. That concluded the normal extent of their interactions. But Sakura was in a good mood, so she called, “You’re out late tonight.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re one to talk,” he observed. He continued walking.

Sakura squinted at his back. She kept waiting to detect the familiar note of contempt in this voice. She had yet to do so. This was also new.

*

Sasuke didn’t sleep much these days. His body still craved the movement and discomfort of constant travel. After dark, he wandered the streets of the village until exhaustion came.

On one of these nights, Sakura stood on the steps of the hospital as he passed by. He wasn’t shocked to see her here so late—talk of her accomplishments expanding the Konoha medical system were everywhere since he came back to the village.

Sakura was different. This was already clear when they fought briefly together during the war. Back then she had stunned him on the battlefield with the full extent of her strength and power. She had grown fierce and confident. Holding back no emotion, she lashed out at him in passionate anger. She cried over his wounded body and healed him without hesitating. She asked him not to go. She did not accept his apology.

Now, all of Sakura’s strong feelings seemed to be gone. She did not avoid him when they crossed paths, but she did not seek him out.

A clear joy marked her face tonight. For a moment, there was no difference between Sakura now and the Sakura he knew as a child. A part of Sasuke stilled, realizing how little of herself she showed to him now. It was just a fact. He was not allowed to have an opinion on the matter.

She greeted him.

Later, Sasuke felt light in his bed. He slept.  

*

If a third party like Naruto had initiated the contact, Sakura and Sasuke politely spent time together. It seemed one commonality they still shared was a penchant to please Naruto.

To Naruto’s clear delight, his friendship with Sasuke had picked up without skipping a beat. The two of them fell back into their friendly competitiveness. They sparred for hours on end. They bickered with what might closely be described as affection. Sakura had even seen Naruto tease a smile out of Sasuke. Despite her guardedness towards Sasuke, Sakura softened in those moments. She did want him to be happy.

Naruto had dragged a group to Ichiraku’s. Lee wept solemn tears over a portrait that Sai had presented to him. Hinata, Ino, and Choji watched horrified as Naruto slurped ramen at a frightening speed. Sasuke was there.

Sakura was in a bad mood.

“Is it Ito-sama again?” Naruto asked, watching Sakura slam her bowl down, sloshing broth on the counter.

Sakura glanced around Ichiraku’s to make sure it was just them.

She let out a deep breath. “He won’t increase my training budget,” Sakura complained. Ito-sama on the village council praised her for training the next generation of medical shinobi yet refused her the resources she needed to do her work. It was infuriating. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

“Maybe it’s because your hair is getting too long. You could cut it again,” Ino suggested.

The others laughed, recalling Sakura’s dramatic haircut during the Chunin exams years ago. It was funny precisely because the moment illustrated Sakura’s creativity and determinism in the face of a challenge. They knew she would find a way out of this bind.

 “Get your scissors, Ino,” Choji called.

“Don’t think I won’t do it again,” Sakura kindly threatened the group.

“I’m afraid for the council,” Naruto gulped. He clung to Hinata.

Amid the banter, Sasuke’s eyes met hers, wary and watchful.

Half-asleep in bed that night, she remembered Sasuke’s reaction. In the moment, she found it odd. Another thought occurred to her now.

Sasuke lacked the context of their conversation. He didn’t know the details of Sakura’s recent work lobbying the council. He was not familiar with Ino’s language of teasing.

He only knew the shared memory. In the same fight where Sakura had sliced off her own hair, Sasuke released the dark power of his curse mark against the people who hurt her. He had done this to protect her. It was also the first step he had taken away from her. The first moment he had tasted the power that tempted him away from the village.

It was possible he wanted to see whether she had been upset.

Sakura was wide awake.

*

Sakura sat on the steps of the hospital. The moon was up high. She had just recruited a new cohort of students and stayed late to finalize the details. She was exhausted.

When Sasuke rounded the corner, irritation ticked in her stomach.

Her indifference to him faltered then. “Leaving again?” she jested, even though it was clear he was taking a walk. How dare he disturb her solitude when all she wanted was to be alone?

How dare he worry whether she was upset?

Sasuke halted. He didn’t scowl, but he was not happy.

Sakura felt calm. This was familiar territory. She prepared for his retort.

Then his features shifted. He grunted a short, “No.”

Sakura let up.

“All right,” she sighed. “Good night.”

He stood silent for a while. Sakura’s brow furrowed. She could never tell what he was thinking.

Head turned away, Sasuke finally said, “Good night, Sakura.”

*

It was the middle of summer. Sakura was busy. When she wasn’t teaching her team, she worked to establish policies at the academy and hospital that made medical training mandatory in the teaching of all shinobi. She fought with the village council. She also worked her regular shifts at the hospital. And trained her own abilities. Naruto wailed at her busy schedule and started inviting himself over to her apartment in the evenings.

“It’s important to spend time together, Sakura-chan,” he insisted, arriving unannounced at her door the first time. “You’re too busy.”

She loved the time with Naruto. He sometimes brought Ichiraku take-out, or instant-ramen which he enhanced with poorly chopped green onions. In return she coaxed him to eat her health-conscious meals. Sometimes Ino or Hinata joined, or members of the medical team that Sakura trained.

Then one day Naruto brought Sasuke.

The first time, she struggled to keep a straight face when she saw him at the door behind Naruto.

At the door, Naruto exclaimed, “Whatever you’re cooking smells great! Oh, yeah, I thought it was about time we had Sasuke over! That’s okay, right Sakura-chan?”

“I thought she knew we were coming,” Sasuke mumbled to Naruto, who was already bounding past them and removing his shoes.

“Oh.” Sakura said. “Well—”

Sasuke glanced down the hallway. Sakura realized he was waiting for her cue. One downward shift of the mouth or brow and he would go.

On a different night, on many nights, Sakura might have given him that cue, and he would have left.

“—the rice is almost ready,” Sakura finished. She opened the door wider.

Tonight, she didn’t want him to leave.

Sasuke paused, then crossed into the apartment.

It was strange to see him in the same landscape where she lived her daily life. He sat on the couch next to Naruto, head turned to read the titles on her bookshelf. Naruto’s friendliness and chatter kept silence and Sakura’s nerves at bay. Though Sasuke had never been a conversationalist, he was listening. And when nudged enough, he chipped in.

Naruto was laughing. “Sakura, you always had the best chakra control out of all of us. I couldn’t believe it when you first walked up that tree.”

Sakura smiled, remembering the feeling of chakra pooling on the soles of her feet for the first time. As natural as breathing, she ran up the bark of that tall tree into the sky. Her world had changed.

“Sasuke was so mad!” Naruto shoved Sasuke with his shoulder. “You had to ask me how she did it.”

Sakura didn’t know this.

“You weren’t a very good teacher,” Sasuke grumbled in response.

For the first time that evening, Sakura let her gaze rest on Sasuke for longer than a polite glance. He was busy scowling at Naruto. The tips of his ears were pink.

“Maybe,” Sakura retorted, “you should have asked me first.”

The corners of Sasuke’s mouth twitched.

“Maybe I should have,” he answered. His quiet voice contained a tease.

The night had gone well.

* * * *

Sakura’s eyes refocused. She picked up the bundle of clothes, slid open the door to outside, and followed the sound of the water.

*

*

*

*

[michiko-zaddy]

I wanted to do a spiritual bath tonight for the blood wolf moon. I just needed to buy some natural soaps, but from a black female owned company! Buying from a black female own business is important to me. The strive that I see these black women have and push day in and day out gives me so much joy and comfort. Buying from black women benefits not just solely them, but me, my skin, mind, body and soul and with @aya_inanna the owner of @honeylushnaturals is prime example of that! the shipping isnt a long wait usually 2- 3 days, her packages are always neat and they smell like #blackgirlmagic each time you open them. All of her products are natural from her yoni oils, body sprays, soaps, steams and so much more! So what I have are Aloe and lemon balm soap, they're rich and lathery. Great for sensitive skin types, and makes a great facial soap bar that wont dry your skin out but gives it added moisture. An activated charcoal and green clay, eucalyptus and lime soaps which aren't sold anymore and small, but my boyfriend used one and for a few days his skin is surprisingly softer & the smell is so refreshing he also bought her beard oils and they definitely help him out a lot! I'm excited to use the lemon and aloe soap tonight while I align my chakras and sage this home of mine. Check her out you wont be sorry ❤🙌🏾

[theladymorganlefay]

Witchcraft doesn’t require fancy, glittery wands, swords or chalices. Your altar doesn’t have to look like a scene from Game of Thrones (unless you want it to). In fact, there are everyday household items that most people have in their house that can be used in witchcraft. These household staples are just as powerful as a store-bought magical tool (if not moreso). So get ready to check around your house for these magical items and get to witchin’!

1. Sugar

Almost everyone has a bowl or canister of sugar in their kitchen. But did you know sugar has magical properties? Sugar comes from a plant called sugar cane that’s been grown in the South for centuries. Use sugar in love spells or to sweeten someone’s attitude.

2. Mirror

Have you read our article about haunted and magic mirrors? Mirrors are connected to water and represent our emotions, intuition, and dreams. BUT mirrors can also be portals to other worlds. Use mirrors in candle spells to reflect magick back at a person, scry your future in the mirror, and cast a little glamour magick while looking in the mirror.

3. Candles

This is an obvious one, but should be mentioned. If you can’t afford to go out and buy a bunch of new candles solely for witchcraft, use the candles you have around the house. Birthday candles and votives are great for candle spells! Candles also give off a magical ambiance and set the mood for casting and ritual.

4. Ribbons and String

Whether it’s a rogue shoelace, ribbon, yarn or string, this is a staple any witch can use in her magick. The easiest magick with string is knot magick. But ribbons and string can also be used to draw out your magick circle on the floor, decorate the house for Beltane and Midsummer, or can be enchanted and worn on one’s person as an amulet or talisman. Not to mention you can tie up a spell bag or mojo bag with a piece of yarn or ribbon!

5. Refrigerator/Freezer

Say what? How does one use the refrigerator or freezer in witchcraft? Easy! Are you dealing with a “hot” situation with angry relatives or co-workers? Write the situation and people involved on a piece of paper, roll it up, and pop it in the fridge to cool everyone down. The freezer works to “freeze” a fast-moving situation or stop a person from making any decisions. Don’t forget you can freeze a name or situation by putting it in water and popping it in the freezer.

6. Broom

Everyone has a broom in their house for cleaning purposes. But the broom has been a magical tool of witches for centuries. Start at the front of the house and move counter-clockwise, sweep the negativity from each room out the back door! Turn the broom bristles up when not in use, especially if it’s behind a door or in a corner.

7. Honey

Also found in the kitchen of many homes is a jar or bottle of honey. Honey has been used in the Hoodoo tradition for centuries to sweeten someone up. While sticky, honey can be used to dress a candle for a love spell (lightly), or spells can be covered in honey and sealed up in a jar. Honey is also a great offering to love gods and goddesses and the ocean. Anoint your power points to take on the likeness of the bee.

8. Jars and Bottles

Speaking of jars and bottles, why not save your pickle jars, spice bottles and other glass containers to use in future spells? Clean them out thoroughly, then cleanse them with smoke or the elements, before making witch bottles, jars, or storing your spell ingredients and herbs.

9. Tea Kettle

Super easy magick involves making a simple cup of tea! Your tea kettle becomes a ritual tool for relaxation, medicine, and magick on a daily basis. Draw symbols of power over the tea kettle with your finger while waiting for the water to boil. Learn more about tea witchcraft here. Who doesn’t love the comforting whistle of grandma’s old tea kettle? That was magic in and of itself.

10. Stockpot or Crockpot

Cauldrons were once standard in our ancestors’ homes found at the hearth. Now our kitchen is the hearth of the house and our cauldrons are our pots and pans. Use your stockpot or crockpot to cook magickal meals or simmer magickal potpourris. I’ve also made herbal infusions and decoctions with my stockpot. And brew a floor wash in your stockpot before cleaning your floors!

11. Soap

And now you’re thinking is she crazy? Soap can be used in witchcraft? To that I say, of course! When washing in the morning or at night, use your bar of soap in a downwards fashion from head to feet to cleanse yourself of all negative vibes. You can even buy soaps made by witches for specific purposes!

12. Clothing

Everyone has to wear clothes, right? Why not enchant your clothing before putting them on? Select certain colors for certain intentions. For example, wear pink when you want to increase the romance in your life. Wear green when you want to attract more money. Shoes and jewelry are also magical tools common in every household.

13. Buttons

Have a jar of buttons you don’t know what to do with? Use the buttons in your witchcraft. Add them to your spell bags and adorn your poppets. Buttons make great eyes and noses for poppets. Sew buttons into a pattern or symbol inside a jacket or coat to align with a magical intention.

14. Flour

Every house has a bag of canister of flour in the kitchen. Flour is typically made from wheat, rice or corn so it also carries the magical properties of the plant from which it’s made. Obviously, flour can be used to make magical breads and pies, BUT you can also use it to draw out circles and sigils on the ground.

15. Bathtub

If you have a bathtub or shower, you have access to an incredibly magical experience. A safe place where you can connect with the water element. Take a shower to cleanse away negative vibes from the day, or add herbs and flowers to your bath to cast spells for money, success, love, etc.

16. Paper and Pen

Every household has paper and pen or pencil, right? We take the ability to write for granted in modern times, but many of our ancestors were never taught how to write. Nor did they have access to paper and writing utensils. Write your spells on a piece of paper, then burn the paper to release the magick. You can also bury the paper, freeze it, cut it in shreds and watch it blow away, etc. Paper and pen are also important when keeping notes on spells and ritual.

17. Books

Speaking of paper, books are magical items in many different ways. Not only do they educate and entertain us, but they can also be used in witchcraft. Press a special flower, plant, or feather in your favorite book. Later when you open the book, your magical item will fall out and bring you luck! Ask a question to the universe, then flip a book open to a random spot. Whatever sentence your eyes land on will be your answer!

18. Milk

Milk is a staple in many family’s refrigerators. If you have cow’s milk, you have an ingredient with magical properties of motherhood, nourishment, protection and abundance. Cook or bake with it or add a bit of it to the bathtub. Almond and coconut milk also have magical properties related to the plants from which they are made.

19. Spices

I’ll bet you have a drawer or cabinet filled with random herbs and spices in your kitchen. If so, you have access to a plethora of magical herbs! Cinnamon, oregano, pepper, cumin, parsley, curry, cilantro, and basil are just a few of the magical herbs most people have right in their kitchen! Learn more about magical kitchen spices here.

20. Coffee Pot

You know that wonderful machine that brews a magical potion every morning to wake us out of our slumber? Yeah, the coffee pot is just as magical as a cauldron! Enchant it by drawing a symbol in the air over top. Then sip your coffee and thank the coffee gods for energy and vitality!

21. House Plants

I think a lot of people forget that house plants are just as magical as herbs or flowers in the garden! Succulents, ivies, and small trees all have their own magical properties. Gather fallen leaves and foliage, dry and use in your spells. Place a jade plant by the front door to bring in abundance. Etc.

22. Salt

Is there anything more purifying and protective than salt? I bet you have some in your kitchen! If so, salt can be used in the bathtub, sprinkled around candles in spells, left in a bowl on the altar for purification, sprinkled in the corners of the house and on windowsills. And so much more!

23. Ancestral Heirlooms

Did your grandmother give you a quilt? Did you inherit a special item from your uncle or father? Ancestral heirlooms are some of the most powerful items to have in one’s home. They tie you directly to your ancestors! Place them on the ancestral altar or simply hold in your hand while praying to the ancestors to bridge the gap between you and your passed loved ones.

24. Seashells

You know those seashells you gathered at the beach last summer? Are they sitting in a drawer somewhere not being used? Add them to the altar to represent the water element, encircle a candle to aid in fertility and water magic spells, or make them into a necklace for magical use.

25. Olive Oil

If you have olive oil in your house, you have the ability to bless and anoint your home and magical tools. Dab a little on your index finger and draw protective symbols on the doorways and windows. You can also use olive oil to anoint your third eye and chakras before ritual. Infuse herbs into oils and use to anoint candles, tools, etc. Learn more about making herb-infused oils here.

26. Silver Bowl

If you have a silver bowl or vase, pour water in it and leave it to charge under the next full moon. BAM. Instant moon water. Silver bowls and plates are also great for candle spells and offerings.

27. Animal Figurines

My great grandmother gave me a small owl figurine made of glass. I now keep it in my living room and it watches over my magical workings. If you have any animal figurines around the house, you can turn these into your magical guardians. Click here to learn more.

28. Knife

One of the first magical tools I ever used was a kitchen knife. Back when I was a teenager, Wicca was the main witchcraft movement and it “required” using an athame for many rituals and spells. If you have an old kitchen knife, you have an athame. Even if you’re not Wiccan, a knife can be used to carve symbols and letters into candles. It can be used to cut things in half like twine, string, etc. It can also be used to draw symbols into the earth for ritual.

29. Bell

Whether small or large, a bell is a household item that has cleansing properties. Ring it a few times and send negative energy and spirits running. It can also be used to signal the start to a ritual or gathering.

30. Sewing Machine

Do you have a sewing machine? Time to make magical altar cloths, tablecloths, curtains, clothing and more! I’ve also used my sewing machine to make magical cloaks and poppets. Cleanse it and enchant it for added magical effects!

[unquietwordssettledthoughts]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Senju Tobirama Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/P*rn Without Plot, Founders Era

If anyone were to give much thought to what Tobirama did on his rare off days, even with only a passing understanding of his person they’d probably assume he’d only work more. To be fair, for most days they wouldn’t be wrong. As the younger brother of the shodaime hokage, Tobirama rarely had off days - and being the technical Senju clan head due to Hashirama’s position in the village, most of his ‘off’ days were spent running about the Senju compound and dealing with what he couldn’t get done during the work week.

All of his own official duties left little time for personal projects, which meant the few hours he could spare during the weekends went straight to his jutsu and scientific studies. Both of which were difficult to focus on with his brother so often being free during the same hours, lounging about their home or inviting the equally loud Uchiha over to freeload on their food and hospitality.

It might be surprising for most, then, to know Tobirama so rarely did any of the above when the house was his - in the quiet hour or two he could find maybe once a week, when he was free and Hashirama was otherwise occupied.

He had a routine, as with everything in his life. The first few parts of which were significantly less risky than the rest. A quick and efficient wash, because he knew from his studies how absolutely disgusting an unwashed body was. One of his more comfortable and worn yukata was waiting for him to slip on, not so worn to have unsightly holes or for the thread to be thin but enough to not care if it might get a touch soiled. He didn’t bother with under-robes of any sort, tying the yukata loosely before leaving the washroom, double and triple checking his brother’s location as he padded down the hall to fetch a few things from his bedroom.

This was where his actions could be rather damning if he didn’t tread carefully. He collected a few candles from his desk, some lotion from the bed stand - the oil would be horribly messy and was hardly needed for any private sessions outside of his room, no matter how tempting it was to go further than he usually did.

But the most damning item he collected last, running a gentle hand through the white fur before picking it up as well.

As he always did, he located his brother’s chakra again, making sure it was stationary and far from home. Once he made sure it was safe (as safe as it ever could be), he left and locked his room out of habit, heading for the living room with his heart already beating a touch faster.

He’d never really had a rebellious stage, but something about how inacceptable his actions would be to the public excited him. Not enough for him to ever admit to what he was doing, but enough to risk setting up his candles, the scent of vanilla filling the room. Enough to grab the patchwork quilt his brother had done his best to make last summer, moving it from the sofa to cushion his back as he settled into Hashirama’s loveseat. Enough to sink into the chair with the heavy fur pelt wrapped around his shoulders, the smell of Hashirama’s body wash still lingering on him from his recent bath, sandalwood and something else he couldn’t ever name strong and heavy and right in all the wrong ways.

Every second he spent on himself there was a risk. Every moment passed one less he had, one less between him and when his brother would return home.

He still took his time. As was the case with everything he did, Tobirama hated to be rushed. If he was to do something he was going to do it right , with not a second wasted nor pushed too quickly just to ‘get things done’.

If a quick orgasm had been all he’d wanted, that could have been achieved easily enough in the wetroom - with less mess to deal with after as well. No, it wasn’t just the high of release he was going to allow himself, otherwise there would have been no need for any sort of preamble.

With one final check of Hashirama’s location, Tobirama closed his eyes, inhaling deep and slow. He kept a hand on the fur - a present from his brother many years ago, given long before he’d ever considered Hashirama anything but a caring and doting brother - the other skimming featherlight down his chest. A little because it felt nice, a little because the touch grounded him and Tobirama had always found it difficult to quiet his thoughts.

He fiddled with the edge of his clothes, rubbing the light fabric. Playing with the end of his obi as he built a scene in his mind. Glimpses over the years of what he desired made it easy to imagine his brother’s bare form, all tanned skin and muscle, long hair slipping over his shoulders as he leaned down over him. The expression was harder to craft - paper doors and walls in the old compound meant he knew exactly what Hashirama sounded like when he took himself in hand, but no amount of longing and strained ears gained him a glimpse of what he might look like while giving or receiving pleasure.

Would he be shy? Brave? Unashamed or hesitant? Tobirama had done this so many times he’d lost count yet he couldn’t ever decide which of them was the most likely - but he knew which he wanted at that moment.

In his mind Hashirama’s scent was so consuming because he was close, both of them dripping from a shared bath. His eyes would be tinted darker, hands sure as they found his obi and slipping his yukata open. One warm as it skimmed up and down his stomach, across his chest, tongue flicking out to wet his lips - a second’s consideration, and the scene shifted, Hashirama sinking to his knees before him as Tobirama’s breath hitched.

His own hand felt nothing like a tongue or mouth. Far too calloused and rough, a bit cold from poor circulation - he breathed harshly through his nose as he cracked one eye open to find the lotion, burying his face in the fur as he took himself in hand once more to try again.

Really, he had no personal experience with what he was trying to imagine. But a few embarrassing looks into his brother’s trashy romance novels told him enough to bury himself in what it might be like. His brother’s tongue flicking out to lick the tip of his length, his thumb rubbing the path it might take. Fingers skimming where Hashirama might kiss down his shaft, his heart beating ever harder in his ears imagining their eyes meeting as his brother took him in his mouth.

He lost himself easily to the moment. Wondering what sorts of sounds Hashirama might make while sucking him off, how much pleasure he might find in doing so. Imagining his eyes half-lidded, lips a little swollen, one hand sneaking out of sight to touch himself.

Tobirama spared a thought to committing this particular scene to memory to use later, because in little time at all his breaths were near shuddering, eyes shut tight as he forced himself not to race to the finish. As much bliss release brought him it was the moments right before, when desperate pleasure was racing hot through his whole being, that he enjoyed the most. And with his face pressed into the soft fur Hashirama had given him, the scent of Hashirama’s body wash clinging to him, the image of Hashirama on his knees with tongue working him over, Tobirama built his pleasure ever higher, ready for it to crash down around him-

“T-Tobi?”

Even as horror drug him right back to reality he spilled his shame all over his own hand, a whimper escaping him before he could stop it.

He’d let himself go too far. Lost in his lewd daydreaming, he hadn’t felt Hashirama’s approach at all - and now his brother stood not a dozen feet away, his hair a bit wind swept, expression blank as he took in the mess before him.

“Ahhh…” His mouth was too dry, voice a bit breathless, and he winced at how obvious it made his activities - not like the hand wrapped around his now spent cock hadn’t been a dead giveaway. “You’re...home early.”

“I am.”

“...and how was the meeting?” He should really have redressed. Or at least covered himself. But the voice screaming in his head was convinced moving would make this real so all he did was slowly sink further into the chair, semen slowly dripping down his fingers and stomach, hand squeezing just a bit tighter when Hashirama’s gaze shifted to his unclothed privates.

“Not as pleasurable as your’s, I think.”

He’d never felt so small or ashamed in his life. And when Hashirama stepped towards him all Tobirama wanted to do was find a hole to crawl in, the only saving grace preventing him from fleeing that instant being that there was no physical proof of his fantasies.

Until his brother stopped short a foot away from him, his eyes widening a fraction as he took a deep breath. “You used my soap?”

His throat went dry. “...I was out.”

A moment’s pause, and Hashirama’s gaze swept over him. “In my chair?”

“I’m doing the bedding.” A lie. A poor one at that. They both knew he only ever did bedding on Saturday mornings, barring a mission.

Hashirama went quiet, his eyes flickering from the fur to the quilt, the chair, his exposed form. All the while Tobirama sunk further into despair, wondering just where he might live now that he’d certainly just gotten himself disowned by his own brother-

With a single step forward, Hashirama crossed the remaining between them, a warm hand wrapping around his wrist to tug his hand away from his now soft cock. And for a brief and insane moment Tobirama thought he might cut the hand off as a sick sort of punishment for his unethical desires.

Instead of feeling searing pain Tobirama ended up gasping, eyes shot wide open as his soiled hand was brought up to Hashirama’s mouth, his brother licking a strip clean on his palm.

“Otouto.” Hashirama leaned over him, Tobirama’s breath catching at the clothed mirror of his own fantasy. “I think we have some things to talk about. Maybe in my room, because of your bedding?”

He didn’t wait for an answer - to be fair, Tobirama wasn’t sure he could’ve given one. As it was all he could do was gape at his brother’s back, frozen in shock as Hashirama walked away over what he was daring to believe was an invitation .

An invitation into his brother’s room.

Into Hashirama’s bed .

Tobirama shot up and only just managed not to scramble after him, not bothering with fixing his clothes beyond keeping a hand on the fur to keep it from slipping to the floor. Contemplating this rather surprising turn of events could come after finding out what Hashirama actually looked like lost in the throes of passion and pleasure.

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