#Bright cherry reds no so much (they wash him out) but darker reds with little pops of orange and gold....

[maphel-n-doodles]

Tobirama Senju has a swag that he can actually pull off wearing a colorful kimonos and avant garde fashion without looking like an idiot. He can even dress up in guo pei pieces and he can be a cover of a magazine. Sorry not Sorry

Come off anon so we can talk about this like civilized folk

[pkmnclifford]

home. 4

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

summary: michael used to be a rockstar in his hometown. but somehow he blacked out, and now he’s in an unknown city. in this part, michael, luke, calum and ashton travel to the nearest big city, searching for michael’s home.

word count: 3k

taglist: @cliiffords​ @phantastic1daf​ @babyoria​ @twilightmomentswithyou​ @calumspeachy​ @lukeysdimples​

The pain in Michael’s chest woke him up, the sunlight coming through the curtains of Luke’s bedroom. He lifted his head up lightly and realized he had fallen asleep cuddled up against Luke, on his bed, just like this, not even under the sheets. Luke was still asleep next to him, his head resting in his hand, and one leg up against Michael’s thigh. The fringed boy was laying down on his belly, watching Luke’s pretty face, his right cheek resting on a blue pillow. Luke looked peaceful in the morning light. Michael quietly observed his face, his growing beard, his lips. He was breathing softly, his curls spread all over the sheets around his head, like a golden crown. Michael felt the urge to go back to sleep in his arms, to forget the pain. He reached his injured hand to Luke’s forehead and gently brushed away a curl with his fingertips to the back of his head. If only they could stay like this forever.

Luke suddenly opened his eyes, his lids flickering as the sunlight illuminated his baby blue eyes. The sight of Michael’s face close to his didn’t bother him, it was as if they had always belonged like this. He smiled.

“Good morning, rose boy. What time is it?”

Michael’s cheeks started to feel stiff; that’s how he noticed how hard he had been smiling since he woke up, since he saw Luke laying next to him.

“Good morning” he whispered. “I have no idea.”

Luke slowly sat up, brushing a hand through his curls, and reached his hand to his phone. 8am. He laid back down, taking his head in his hands.

“It’s too early to get up” Luke mumbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a proper bed to sleep in last night. I guess we were both way too tired.”

“No worries” Michael breathed. “I slept well. No nightmares.”

Luke turned to him and smiled. “Good. That’s good. How’s your hand?”

Michael looked down, moving his fingers under the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m okay.” He didn’t mention the excruciating pain growing in his chest, as he didn’t want Luke to worry. Michael jumped as Luke took his hand to check if the bandage was still right in place. His careful touch and the sight of his own hand in Luke’s delicate ones made Michael’s heart flutter. He resisted the urge to hold his hand tighter.

“I don’t think we’ll need to renew your bandage before we go.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Before we go?”

Luke’s eyes sparkled with a sleepy, but enthusiastic look.

“Yeah. To Montfort. That’s where you’re from, right?”

Michael sat up and tried to process what Luke was saying. Was the fact that Michael was a professional musician their only hint to go to another unknown city? Montfort didn’t ring a bell. He didn’t want to waste Luke’s time.

“Listen, Luke, I don’t even know if that’s my hometown, maybe we shouldn’t...”

“We won’t be able to know if we stay here!” Luke shouted. “Maybe your memories will come back if we go there. They have a concert hall in Montfort, a pretty big one. Maybe you’ve played there, on that stage, who knows?”

Michael watched Luke get up and slowly stretch his arms and back. He wasn’t convinced Montfort was the right destination, but Luke was right, staying in this small town, where no memories came back to him, wasn’t useful at all.

“Maybe you want to eat something, and take a shower? I’ll try to call Ashton. He has a car. We’ll need it to go to Montfort.”

Michael’s stomachache came back again at the mention of Ashton’s name. Will Luke’s friend agree to take a stranger in his car? But Luke’s enthusiasm was contagious. He showed him the bathroom and handed him fresh towels; he even gave him fresh clothes to wear. Michael was embarrassed, but Luke’s clothes smelled so amazingly good, he didn’t mind wearing them. Luke left to the kitchen to make some pancakes for breakfast.

Once he closed the bathroom door, Michael slowly undressed, his painful moves making him wince. Taking Luke’s soft hoodie off and throwing it on a chair behind him, his gaze fell on the mirror above the sink, and he jumped at what he saw, horrified. The bruises on his chest had gotten darker and bigger, the blackish stains under his skin almost reaching his shoulders. Suddenly in panic, Michael closed his eyes and tried to breathe, his hands holding each side of the sink. No need for a second panic attack. He tried to think. Luke didn’t need to know. The poor boy had already done so much for him, welcoming him in his home without even knowing him. He thought about Montfort. He wanted to leave on an adventure with Luke. He felt so right with Luke. Maybe the pain in his chest would go away. Maybe the bruises would fade away. The tattoo on his arm was also still there, less red than the day before, but still there. Michael breathed in slowly and stepped in the shower. The hot water on his sensitive skin soothed him. He quickly took off his bandage on his hand which got wet. The cuts were almost healed, or at least they weren’t bleeding anymore. It stung though, as Michael squeezed the bottle of shampoo in his hand and gently washed his blonde hair. When he stopped the water from running, he heard Luke’s voice from the kitchen, probably on the phone with Ashton. Michael grabbed one of the blue towels Luke gave him, the contact of the soft fabric on his bruised body mixed with Luke’s smell calming him down. He put on Luke’s clothes, grinding his teeth as he put the white printed tee over his head, and stepped in the black shorts.

When he got out of the steamy bathroom, a delicious pancake smell welcomed him. Luke was in the kitchen, wearing a cute flowery apron, a pan in one hand, his phone in the other. On the table, he had put plates and mugs, surrounded with jam, sugar, chocolate and fresh fruit.

“Come on, Ash” the blonde boy said with an annoyed tone. “I know you don’t see the point, but I really need to go.”

Michael pulled a chair and awkwardly sat down at the kitchen’s table. When Luke saw him, he froze for a second and his gaze softened. Michael looked so cute with his confused green eyes, his wet hair falling on his forehead, his shoulders almost drowning in Luke’s white shirt, who was broader than him.

“It’s really really important for me” Luke said to Ashton on the phone, not taking his eyes off of Michael. There was a short silence on the phone, but even though the answer coming after that was inaudible, Luke’s smile said it all. Ashton said yes.

“Thank you so much Ash. You’re the best. See you then!”

Luke hung up, smiling so hard he almost forgot the pancake which was cooking; he gasped and quickly flipped it over. He then turned to Michael to serve a pancake on his plate.

“We can borrow Ashton’s car, but on one condition: he’ll be driving. And Calum’s coming too. He’ll be there in an hour.”

Michael eyes widened. He had to go with Ashton and Calum? Not that Calum’s presence bothered him, but the few remarks Ashton had given him the night before still stung in his mind. He was happy Luke wanted to help him, though.

“Thank you so much Luke, I... I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank Ashton” Luke said happily. “He really is a great friend, isn’t he?”

Michael silently nodded. They quietly ate their pancakes, enjoying each other’s company. Luke talked to Michael about his garden; he wanted to grow sunflowers but he needed to find the seeds first. He loved flowers; in fact he really wanted Michael to go in his garden and have a look, while he was going to shower.

Michael opened the front door which led to Luke’s porch, breathing in the fresh air, the morning sun warming up his pale face. He stood there for a while, quietly stretching, trying to relieve his sore chest, the pain now spreading to his arms. He winced again, holding back a moan. Thanks to Luke’s open bathroom window to his garden, Michael could hear Luke’s singing voice under the shower. The soft sound made Michael’s heart shake. A bright smile on his face, he decided to take a walk around Luke’s pretty garden. He walked down the stairs under the porch and saw, a few feet away, a small vegetable patch. He could definitely see how much Luke liked gardening. A cherry blossom tree hovered over several bushes of wonderful-smelling flowers. Michael’s hand brushed over the pastel colored petals, breathing in deeply, a soft breeze refreshing his damp hair.

He suddenly heard a car stopping nearby, on the street, two doors closing followed by the sound of someone’s laughter. Michael looked over to the little white gate opening to Luke’s house and saw Ashton standing there, holding the fence to let Calum in. The dark skinned boy immediatly noticed Michael standing in the backyard, his fingers still holding onto a lilac flower. He waved, and Michael waved back timidly. Ashton had seen him too, but he walked directly to Luke’s door. Michael hesitantly approached Luke’s friends.

“Hi Ashton, Luke is showering right now.” Michael said, trying to look confident in front of Ashton, even though he was slightly impressed by the snake tattoo on the lad’s arm.

“I still don’t trust you, you know” Ashton told him, his hazel eyes piercing through Michael’s. “I’m doing this for Luke.” He looked at his watch. “Tell him we’ll wait for him in the car.” He then turned around and disappeared behind the bushes, walking back to his car. Calum stood there, confused, his gaze following Ashton’s moves. He then turned to Michael, smiling.

“Alright then, he’s been this grumpy since last night, don’t worry about him, it’s just Ashton” he said jokingly. “How are you, Mike?” He looked at Michael’s exposed arm. “Nice tattoo you got there!”

Michael smiled back. He liked Calum, but he didn’t want to talk about his tattoo, and absent-mindedly covered it with his left hand.

“I’m good, actually-” He was interrupted by Luke’s head suddenly popping out of his doorframe.

“Hi Cal! Don’t come in, I’m naked right now. Tell Ash I’ll be there in a sec.”

Calum burst out laughing and pointed to the street. “You probably don’t have anything to bring with you” he told Michael. “Wanna wait in the car with us?”

Reluctant considering Ashton was there, and silently saying goodbye to Luke’s pretty house, Michael hesitantly followed Calum to Ashton’s car. They waited a few minutes, Calum discussing with him guitar related things, while Ashton stayed in the car, the radio loudly resonating outside. Michael really liked Calum’s company and happily talked about music with him. Luke soon appeared, a big sportsbag in his hand.

“Hey! I took clothes, and snacks. You never know.”

“You know Montfort is only 50 miles away, Luke, you don’t need to bring a survival kit” Calum joked, his eyes rolling, which made Michael giggle.

They all got in the car, Ashton driving with Calum next to him, and Michael and Luke in the backseat. Michael stayed silent during the first minutes of the ride, giving Ashton the time to get on the highway. Luke explained to them everything about why they were going to Montfort, and the fact that Michael remembered playing on a stage, but soon Calum and him were talking about their TV show again. Michael was almost falling asleep, his head against the window, when he suddenly noticed a sign.

Greenfield.

He swiftly turned his head to get a second look, but the car’s speed had already made it disappear.

“WAIT!” he suddenly yelled, making everyone in the car jump, including Ashton, who almost ran the car against a speed limit sign.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t yell like that, I’m driving here!” Ashton screamed, angry.

“Greenfield” Michael said hastily, turning to Luke, who looked at him with wide eyes. “Where’s Greenfield?”

“I... uh” Luke hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

Michael got cut off by Ashton, who was looking at him through the inside mirror.

“Greenfield is on the other side of the country. At least a thousand miles from here.”

“Wait, I thought we were going to Montfort” Calum said, confused.

Michael’s breath sped up. Greenfield rang a bell. Montfort didn’t.

“I need to go there. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m not driving a thousand miles for a guy who can’t even remember his last name. I said I’d drive you to Montfort, not to fucking Antarctica” Ashton said grumpily. Luke ignored him and turned to Michael.

“Are you absolutely sure Greenfield is where you’re from? But Michael, how could you have ended up in a small town a thousand miles away from where you live?”

“I don’t know, Luke” Michael felt tears forming in his eyes. He needed Luke to believe him. “I don’t know what happened, but I know I need to go to Greenfield.”

Ashton eyes went from the road, to Michael, and then to Luke in the mirror. He caught Luke’s desperate expression, and sighed. Michael held his breath, the pain in his chest intensifying.

“Fine. I guess filling up the gas tank before we left was a good decision. You guys ready for a 10 hour ride?”

“Yeah! I fucking love long car rides. We can play car games!” Calum cheered.

Michael felt a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, mumbling “Thank you” to Ashton, who answered with an awkward smile. Michael knew he was now on the right way. He took Luke’s hand in his and squeezed it, bringing it up to his chest to thank him, too. He felt so thankful, so relieved, so excited. Luke’s smile looked like it could light up the whole car.

The ride was a long one. They played Calum’s stupid car games, which essentially consisted of guessing what Calum was thinking about, but quickly got bored of it. After an hour of silence, Ashton suddenly spoke up.

“You guys wanna talk about philosophical problems? It’s always deeper than Calum’s bullshit.”

Calum didn’t even look offended, only curious to know what Ashton’s game’s rules were.

“You choose a philosophical topic and then we debate about it. I’ll start. Luke, what do you think the purpose of life is?”

Calum laughed. “Is this philosophy class again?” But Luke liked this idea, and said “To be happy.” Ashton eyebrows lifted, his eyes focused on the road. “But what’s being happy, actually?”

Michael sat up and timidly said. “Finding love?” He met Luke’s amused look and blushed. “Some people are single but happy nonetheless” Calum replied.

“True. Then I’d say the purpose of life is... being nice to people. Cause... it will always positively get back to you.” Luke stated.

“Wow... deep” Calum laughed, a satisfied look on his face. “Your turn, Luke. Ask us about a topic.”

Luke tried to think, looking out the window, his head on his fist.

“What do you think about death, Michael?”

Michael’s eyes, which were turned to the road, widened, and he froze. He had no idea. He awkwardly twisted Luke’s shirt around his finger.

“Wh- What do I have to say about death?”

“Anything. Where do you think we go when we die, for example?” Luke said, encouraging him. Michael swallowed. His chest tightened. He didn’t like this game, but he wanted to try to answer anyway.

“I have no idea, but... I remember a legend I heard somewhere. It says that when you die, you go to heaven with your soulmate. Even... if you haven’t met him on earth, I mean” Michael explained, embarrassed, assuming it would answer Luke’s question.

“Interesting” Ashton chuckled. “I personally believe you just... black out, and that’s it.”

“That’s a sad way of thinking, Ash” Calum mocked. “What about becoming a ghost? That’s cool.”

Luke giggled. They stayed silent for a while, and Michael felt like he was falling asleep. Ashton’s game hadn’t lasted that long. He must have indeed fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes, he noticed Ashton was now driving slower, as if he was trying to park the car, and it was dark outside. Michael had his head resting on Luke’s shoulder. Flashing lights coming from the road made his heart suddenly race. He had seen those same lights in his nightmare. He sat up, making Luke jump.

“Where are we?” Michael asked worringly.

“We’re two hundred miles away from Greenfield now” Ashton uttered. “I’m stopping at a hotel for the night, I’m too tired”. He stopped the car, the pink neon sign of the motel shining on Michael’s face. They got out of the car, slowly stretching after the long ride.

“Good evening, how may I help you?” The receptionist asked when they got to the counter. She was wearing a red uniform and a matching cap.

“Do you have four individual rooms left?” Ashton asked, taking out his credit card. Luke took his arm, as a way to say ‘you’re not paying for all of us’, but Ash just ignored him.

“I’m sorry, we don’t. I can give you two double rooms, they’re the only ones we have left.”

“Fine” Ashton sighed, immediatly paying and taking the keys. He was exhausted and didn’t mind sharing a room, apparently. Silently wishing he could get a room with Luke so that he wouldn’t spend an uncomfortable night, Michael followed them to their rooms. Luke, his sports bag on his shoulder, turned around and took his hand, leading him to the second room. Apparently, they were going to take a room together. Relieved he didn’t have to awkwardly share a room with Ashton, Michael let out a sigh of relief. They said goodnight to each other, Calum almost sleepwalking at that point, impatient to get some sleep after their long day.

Luke opened the door. The room was simple, no decoration, just a double bed and a small bathroom. Michael saw the parked cars outside, out of the tiny window next to the bed. Luke turned on the little lamp on the nightsand, and sat on the bed, lifting his head up to look at Michael.

“How’s your chest?”

Michael stared at him with a blank stare. He hadn’t mentioned his bruises since the day before, at Luke’s place.

“You think I didn’t notice how every move you make makes you wince?” Luke said, as he wasn’t getting any answer from the fringed boy. “You’re in pain, Michael. Please, talk to me.”

Michael felt a tear roll down his cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Luke, and just stood there, frozen. He was so cold. All he wanted was to sleep in Luke’s warmth, and forget. Luke opened his arms, showing him to come closer. Michael stepped slowly towards the bed and laid down, his head falling on Luke’s lap.

“I just want to go home” he said, his tears falling on Luke’s jeans.

“I know” Luke whispered, gently pushing away Michael’s fringe, wiping a tear away. “You’ll be there tomorrow, I promise.”

Somehow deep in his heart, Michael wanted to go home but felt some kind of apprehension. He felt like going home would be a new start, as he didn’t remember anything from his previous life. And that thought was scary to him. He squeezed Luke’s hand, hard. He just wanted to stay like this, Luke’s hand brushing through his hair. He felt himself fall asleep again. Luke slowly got up and properly placed him on the bed, pulling the sheets over his body, and then crawled in bed against him, placing his chin over the bruised boy’s head. Holding him tight, Luke sighed and lightly wiped one last tear off of Michael’s face, his breath slowing down until they both fell asleep.

[elegiesforshiva]

Reanimate

Summary: Sometimes, Sakura wishes Sasuke was more vocal.  She agrees to spend the night, but only on two conditions.

Rating: M…or E.  (the entire thing is sin y’all) Links: FF and AO3 links can be found in the notes.

Tonight, Sakura is adorned in lace and satin.

Red, of course.  It’s always been her preferred color, and while he has never said it allowed, Sakura is certain it’s Sasuke’s favorite on her too.

They’re in his room tonight, everything pristine and paved in neutral shades.  Sakura thinks he blends in perfectly—hard porcelain animated only in his relaxed posture, knees bent and spine slouched against the chrome wall.  He gives her a once over.  Then another, but more slowly this time.  He meets her eyes with his single visible one.

Sakura walks towards him with lazy strides, the only color in this dull, dim room.  She tries not to feel like a blunt intrusion for it.  She is welcomed here, she reminds herself. He likes it when she gives him this—gives him her.  He’s told her this before; Not often with his words, of course, but still with his mouth all the same.

Her knees brush the fine threads of his sheets and her garment hitches up her thighs as she crawls over to him.  She wonders if he likes it as much as the last piece she wore for him.  He hasn’t given her any of his tells yet, but Sakura understands by now that in itself is a good sign.  She moves carefully, exaggerating the sway her hips before resting between his legs.  Still, Sasuke is quiet, eye beautifully dark and locked solely on her.  

Sakura reaches out, sweeps his dark locks aside with a single finger.  She cups his face, thumb sliding over a long cheekbone and she feels his jaw relax under her caress.  The Rinnegan stares back then, cool and scalding at once, dark tomoe circling inside smoky lavender.  His other eye joins it.

“Are you recording already?” Sakura asks, trying to swallow a spike of giddiness.

“I like you in this,” Sasuke says simply.

“You do?” She asks, leaning forward with an arch.  Her breasts aren’t anything remarkable, but she is certain Sasuke likes them with how his eyes dart lower.  His eyelids curve in a relaxed sort of amusement.  His lips part and he leans forward.

“Ah-ah,” Sakura chides, sitting back.  He stops too, gaze mapping up her throat before meeting her eyes with a striking intensity.  The Sharingan is always like that, Sakura thinks.  Sasuke is always like that.  

He waits patiently, before she says, (Condition #1:) “No touching, remember?”

“I wasn’t going to touch,” Sasuke says, too quick and most definitely defensive.  Sakura thinks he may be pouting.  “Only kiss.”

“Touching with your mouth is still touching.”  

Oh, he’s definitely pouting now.

“Aw, c’mon Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says, “It’s not so bad, is it?”  Her hands trail up the length of his biceps, the touch light and barely there. Her right hand meets his hairline before her left.

Sasuke is quiet, the line between his lips thin, muscled frame warm and perfectly still.  His face is blank in that contemplative way now, like he’s trying to dissect her.  It’s not much different than their spars, Sakura thinks.  The results are often predictable, but the journey there still always gets them heated.  She likes that about them.  

Sakura leans forward, lips puckered to tease his firm jaw, his throat.  Her hands trace fabric until her fingers meet the fastening of his vest. She moves slow, button by button, kiss by kiss along the bob of his throat.  The vest loosens, and she works on the shirt beneath.

“Have I told you how good you look recently?”  Sakura asks, catches his pale flesh and sucks it into a soft pink, then darker.  The fabric falls open and the heat of him washes over her at once.  

Her fingers trail along him, fine digits tracing the slope of him, feeling bone, muscle, tissue. Here is his subclavius.  Adjacent is his pleura, just over a lung.  To the right, the arch of his aorta—and the beginnings of his heart.  She’s not one to care for her nails most days, but tonight they are a fine red—bright and poignant as she plucks and rolls a slowly hardening nipple.

Sasuke opens his mouth, looking as if he’s about to say something.  His breath fans a warm breeze, and his lips shut.  He doesn’t look away.

Sakura kisses down his pale skin, cherry lip stains smearing along his chest and circling around his nipple. She suckles tender, then scrapes. He doesn’t make a sound but she hears the thund in his chest, coronary arteries working to color his ghastly complexion.  Sometimes it still surprises her, how responsive he can be.  She loves the play of it—from silence to screams. She thinks it’s a little like necromancing life back into the dead.

Sakura pulls away and licks her lips, tasting cherry lip balm as she zeros in on the marks she’s left. He’s staring at her with an expression of shadowed want.  Beautiful, she thinks.  Every part of him—dark and beautiful, stained only by her color.

“Should we have a safe word this time?” Sakura asks, pushing cotton fabric off his shoulders, feather-light touches tracing his tightening muscles.

“We might need one,” Sasuke agrees.  

She wonders what prompts him to say this, but as she meets his focused gaze, she finds herself too nervous to ask.  It’s not that she’s ashamed of her need for him, delirious as it may be, but she had spent many years trying to cultivate her mask as a shinobi.  She’s known for a long while that her every effort was wasted in the face of him, but it’s still a hard fact to forgive, sometimes.

“Something crude, maybe?” Sakura says, tickling his skin with soft grazes.  She dares a look towards his face and finds his eyes closed, head tilted down in a whisper of submission.

“Hm…what’s something that’ll disrupt the mood, but not soil it entirely?” Sakura asks, ghosting her hands over his thighs.  She feels the muscle jump beneath the fabric and glances down to find her fingers awfully close to a bulge hugging his thigh.  She repeats the motion just as slow and slight, teasingly avoiding his cock even as it grows.  Sasuke’s breath hitches.

Sakura leans forward and plants sweet kisses on his jaw, trailing up to tug at his ear.  She loves the soft inhale he makes when she wraps her moist lips around his lobe, latching and departing with a wet sound.

“How about Naruto?” she suggests.  Instantly, Sasuke is rigid.  

“New rule,” he decides, “You are never to say that name in this room.  Ever.”

Sakura laughs, cups his cheeks in both her hands and pulls him close, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding…I actually meant to say ramen.”

“Sakura,” Sasuke warns. Sakura hums, a sweet sound that speaks to her amusement as much as her ardor.  She strokes her fingers through his dark strands, her other hand moving back to his clothed thigh.  He exhales in frustration, and Sakura doesn’t need to imagine what’s got his patience so thin when his cock is growing beside her palm like this.  “Kunai,” he says.  “We’ll use kunai.”

“Okay,” Sakura agrees, and pulls him in for a gentle kiss.  It starts soft and slow, but she chases his warmth, tugging on his lip. She places a hand on his lower stomach, digits fanning while her other hand massages the tense muscles in his thigh.

She can tell she’s getting to him when he deepens the kiss, tilting the angle of their mouths before pushing his tongue into hers.  She moans against him, feels herself dampen at the possessive way he starts to press against her, using everything but his hand.  

He’s testing her control, she knows.  And many times she’s lost this battle, even so early on.  Sasuke just feels too good, and he handles her with the perfect mix of sensuality and fervor that Sakura too-often surrenders to the pleasure without ever knowing when or how.  But when he puts his hand on her hip and starts lowering them onto the bed, Sakura forces him back.

She’s a little too short on breath though, knees a little too tingly, eyes a little too glossy. Sasuke’s sly expression tells her he’s very aware of these facts.  

“Since you’re so impatient,” Sakura says, and she reaches for his pants, “Let’s take care of you, shall we?”

She undoes his trousers with neat tugs until his cock is pressing against her through his loose boxers. He’s already fairly stiff, but not quite at full mass yet.  She remedies this with the kind of ease that would give her girlhood fantasies whiplash—hands skirting his thighs, his toned sternum, his hips—everywhere but where he wants her.  She watches, fascinated, as he anticipates the course of her hands, hips slanting ever so slightly when she nears his erection.

“I thought you said you’d take care of me,” he says, a pathetic goad that she thinks would work better on Naruto than her.  She has to shake herself of the image that follows.  

“Aren’t I?”  Sakura asks, and brushes against his bulge with the heel of her palm.  “What’s wrong, Sasuke-kun?  You don’t like it when I touch you?”

Sasuke gives her a stern glare, licks his already moistened lips and glances down at her breasts, then back up to continue glaring.  “I wouldn’t exactly call that touching.”

“What would you call it then?”  She asks, and cups his hardness firm enough to pull out a sweet hiss.  “Teasing?” she asks.  “Do you want me to stop teasing you, Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer, but Sakura decides to take pity on him anyway.  He sighs as she pulls him out, and Sakura has to keep herself from laughing at the unsteady kicks he makes when they slide him out of his lower garments.

Sakura takes his hot flesh and tugs, “You’re so hard, Sasuke-kun,” she notes, tracing a thick vein with the pad of her finger.  “I bet I could ride you right now,” Sakura says, if only to watch his eyes glaze over in want.

“Less talk, more action.”

She tugs at him again, slightly harder this time, and thumbs the head of his cock.  Her touch is still dry right now so she’s handling him with excessive care.  Sasuke doesn’t seem to mind, a pleased sound breaking out.  “Like this, Sasuke-kun?”

“More,” he says and jerks forward, driving his cock into her caress.  His chest expands with each hot breath.

“More what?”  Sakura asks.

“You know how I like it,” he says, his voice deceivingly even.  She reaches for his jaw and finds it tense before he relaxes in her hold. Her other hand rubs the underside of his head, playing with the fleshy tissue.  She feels him tense up again.

“I do, hm?” Sakura asks, adoring the flush of his cheeks.

“Sakura,” he breathes out, rich and reverent, and Sakura feels her stomach stir.  His eyes dart to her lips and Sakura doesn’t waste another moment before she grasps him by the nape and drags him in a sloppy kiss.

She presses herself against every inch of him, and he makes such a low, hungry sound, pushing back against her. The motion is a delicious domino-effect of hot friction: chest against silk against chest—lacy ends skimming his cock, pressing into her thigh.

Sakura pulls away, panting against his lips.  “Someone’s awfully needy today.”  Sasuke groans against her lips, flexes himself to meet her crotch, and for a blinding moment, Sakura’s vision clouds with every color his room lacks.  She tries, quite unsuccessfully, to bite back the sound.

“Look at you,” Sasuke says, she’s certain it’s meant to be a tease, but he kind of sounds like he’s in awe. “We’ve both had a long week,” Sasuke says, “Come, relax, sit,” he suggests, bucking his hips up into her again.  Sakura grips his shoulder fiercely, tugging the ink locks between her fingers.  “We can leave the games for another time.”

“That doesn’t look like a very comfortable seat,” she says, lifting herself away from his need and Sasuke makes a low, gritty sound.  “I think there’s a very hard object sticking out. You’re not trying to hurt me, are you, Sasuke-kun?”

“Never,” he sighs and dips his head by her shoulder.  He sucks and scrapes until she tenses.  “Impale you, maybe.  But never hurt you.”

“Impale me without hurting me?”  Sakura asks, and pulls him back to kiss the corner of his mouth.  “How would you manage that?”

“Would you like a demonstration?”  He offers, wearing that haughty smirk she loves so much.

Sakura hums, and slowly eases him back, arranging herself over him so her lips can find his dusky nipple. “Tempting,” She leaves a wet kiss on his nub, the hot motion starting and ending with the hitch of his breath.  “But I’m not so sure I’m ready for that yet…”

She’s not entirely sure if it’s true though.  Seeing Sasuke hot and bothered like this has her insides clenching.  It is Sasuke though.  And Sasuke has a tendency to be overwhelming, even in these matters.

Especially in these matters, she thinks, eyes locked onto his hard frame, the proud jut of his erection, tip glistening with want.  Gods, how she ached to stretch herself around him. Such a shame he had to go and misbehave like this.

“Then come, let me taste you,” Sasuke says, every syllable lewd, coarse, and eager, “I’ll get your pretty pussy nice and wet for me.”  

Sakura is as aroused as she is delighted.  Sasuke doesn’t usually talk filthily so early on, she can only imagine how wound up he must be and the thought has her immersed in bright glee.

“Me?” Sakura asks, “Get wet for you?”  Her hand presses against his chest, guiding his back to meet the comforters and she purrs at the way he falls to the mattress—cheeks flushed, hair tousled.  “Oh Sasuke-kun, I think it’s you who’s going to get wet for me.”

She dives her head down to suck on the hot flesh of his torso, kissing and sucking wetly, nose brushing soft, in sharp contrast of her teeth.  She follows just to the right of the dark trail of hair, stopping at his navel to kiss and tease. His erection stirs right beside her, catching a few of her stray strands with an oozing stickiness.

“Sakura,” Sasuke says her name with a such a soft, sweet yearning.

She hums, kissing, massaging.  Delicate and precise.  She cups his sacs, gently pulls and squeezes, and he groans.

“Sakura,” he says again, sounding so much more desperate, and oh so beautiful.

“What’s wrong, Sasuke-kun?” she asks, as if his pink tip isn’t swollen and leaking by her cheek. She glides a hand up his thigh, fingers tracing up and down the hard V from his abdomen to his midsection.  “Is there something you need, darling?”

His jaw tightens, and Sakura can’t help but admire his self-restraint.  She’s certain she would have shoved his head between her legs by now, had she been in his position.  Instead, Sasuke bucks up, until his veiny cock brushes against her face, precum smearing along her cheek and sticking to her hair.

“Please,” he whispers, voice throaty and wanting.  “Do something—anything.”

She kisses his clenched stomach once more, “You’re so good, Sasuke-kun,” another kiss, but this time she bites the skin hard enough for his breath to hitch.  “I don’t know why people say you have no manners.”

He almost looks contemplative of that statement before her lips wrap around him.  Whatever thought he has breaks on a desperate, animal cry.

Sakura swirls her tongue along his crown, bobs her head up and down his twitching organ before pulling away.  “Remember, Sasuke-kun,” she begins, (Condition #2:) “No cumming until I say so, do you understand?”

Sasuke’s eyes are still staring dazed, focused only on her glossy lips brushing his cock, so Sakura pulls away and reiterates, “Do you understand?”  It’s only then he gains enough presence to be frowning.

“If you don’t think you can handle that, we’re going to need to stop,” Sakura tells him.  “So can you do it for me?”

Sasuke’s frown deepens. “You’re a fucking tease,” he says, voice airy, already defeated.

Sakura laughs, then brushes her lips along the tip of him, if only to trade that look of frustration for heat.  “What do you say, Sasuke-kun?” She asks, her mouth moving against him, tongue darting against the salt-slick tip.  “Will you be good for me?”

“Yes,” he breathes, “I’ll be good.”

“And how will you be good?”

“I won’t cum,” he says in a sort of wanton, but bereft way, as if the very idea is killing him.  It probably is.

She gives him a wet kiss along the underside, raking a tongue along him in approval.  “Good,” she says simply.  

She takes him in her mouth slowly, cheeks hallowing, head bobbing up and down.  Her fingers reach for him, cupping, squeezing, fondling every part of him that her tongue can’t glide over.  In moments, Sasuke is shaking.

Sakura listens to his breathing while she moves, his flesh is warm and she hums at the distinct, bitter taste against her tongue.  Sasuke’s sighs are remarkably relaxed considering the uneven shifts of his hips, which make it very clear he’s trying hard not to shove himself into her mouth.

She’s starts to tug and knead him in the places he likes, one hand reaching through and squeezing his cheek.  Her head bobs faster, tongue gliding as she wetly slurps more of him.  Sasuke grunts, his hips lurching forward and suddenly there’s hot flesh sliding along the walls of her throat.  Sakura moans around his cock—a sound of alarm or perhaps excitement.  Sasuke is crying out, broken and needy; his thigh jerks taut against her palm.

“Ple-ease,” he moans, huffing, shaking, the depth of his voice breaking on a quiver.

“Mm-mm,” She hums in refusal, well aware of what the very sound is doing to him.  Sasuke would probably be shooting her a nasty glare if he wasn’t so busy biting back a nut.

Sakura bobs her head in an increasingly slower fashion until she mercifully lets him go with a wet pop.  His body—nearly arched in tension—falls slack onto bedsheets.

He stares up at her, breathing hard as she wipes the spit from her face and tries to catch her own breath.  Sasuke is spread beautifully, body pale, pink, and slick in all the right places.

She combs her fingers through his dark hair, and trails kisses down his cheek until she connects with his mouth.  His own lips tug, and suck, meeting her with a soft want.  “Good?” Sakura asks.

Sasuke hums, nostrils flaring in a strained sort of approval.  “You aren’t going easy on me.”

“You can handle it,” Sakura taunts.  “Besides…” Her hands glides over to his knee. “I kind of like you like this.”  She kisses his warm temple then slides off the bed to snoop through the nightstand.

Lazily, Sasuke pushes himself up with an elbow before Sakura returns with a tube of clear liquid and a small, circular band.  

“You’re kidding,” Sasuke says.

“Nope,” Sakura says. “I told you I wanted to try it out soon.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Sasuke says, his eyes fastened to the black elastic.

Sakura hums, wasting little time before oiling her hands with lubricant.  She likes the image of their mutual eagerness: the wet, slick sound of her palms, and the bob of Sasuke’s erection, anticipating her touch.

She handles him gently as she strokes, lubricating him with soft squeezes and appreciative teases.  Then she gently works the cock ring on around him.

“How does it feel?” Sakura asks.

Sasuke stares down in something aligned with mistrust.  “Tight.”

Sakura bites back a smirk, “Isn’t that a good thing?  You say that about me all the time.”

Sasuke meets her eyes, then trails down curve of her figure, stopping between her legs.  With the look he’s giving her, she’s certain whatever bit of panties he can see is wet.  “That’s a different tight.”

Sakura wraps her fingers around his cock and he jumps at the sensation.  “Different in a good way, I presume?”  She pumps him in a lazy, loose hold.

Sasuke’s eyes are hooded, expression melting.  His breath hitches before he responds, “Yes.”

She tightens her grip, circles her thumb along the glistening tip and handles him with the kind of delicious pressure that she knows could make him cum in seconds. “Will you tell me, Sasuke-kun?”

“You’re warm,” he breathes, eyes closed. “You’re perfect.”

“Keep going,” she says, forming a tight circle along the crown and pumps all the way down and back up. She adores the way he groans, arching into her hold.  “What do you love about being inside me, hm?”

“Everything,” he says. She works him faster and his eyes slit open, impossibly hungry.  The vibrant colors pierce through her.  “I love that you let me,” he starts, and this surprises her enough to calm her pace. His hips buck up to compensate.  

“That, after everything, even after…” he trails, and Sakura gives him a very purposeful squeeze then, one that forces a long, drawn out sound.  She’s not sure what prompts her to do that—if she didn’t like that train of thought or perhaps liked it too much.

“You always give me that look,” Sasuke breathes, eyes pinching shut, body writhing.  She wonders what look he means, what he must be envisioning in his head.  “You squeeze me so tight and you give me that look.”

“You give me a look too, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says, fondling him all the way down, then back up, taking care to palm the underside of his cock with a tad more friction.  His bright eyes are glazed open, face relaxing into a doped up expression until he moans out, the band of his body pulled taut.

She sighs happily, leans down to kiss him along his wonderfully vocal throat.  “Yes, that one,” she coos, “I love that one.”

Sasuke jerks violently then, and Sakura finds herself deeply impressed with the way his teeth press into his lip in what could only be a useless measure of restraint.  She moves her hand faster to reward and punish him in one.  Sasuke squirms under her touch, heel digging into the mattress, knees falling out, lips parting beautifully.  The sounds.  The wonderful, ardent, husky sounds are music to her ears.

His cock is such smooth velvet under her hands and she loves the feel of him.  She’s quickly replacing her desire to tease him for her desire to take him, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t draw this out for all she can.  Sasuke looks far too good like this—brows pinched and stuttering.  He makes a very loud and very slow drag of a groan then, and whispers her name so sensually that Sakura has to bite down on her own lip.  She shifts, the fabric between her legs sticky and uncomfortable.

It’s then that his hand reaches for her, tangles in her hair to guide her lips against his.  For a moment Sakura considers the fact that he is most certainly breaking a rule, but his teeth tug at her bottom lip, tongue gliding over and Sakura mumbles his name in pleasure instead of warning.

His mouth moves against her deeper and now her body is pressed right against his, his cock wedged tight between their abdomens.  He shifts them, hauling her up into his lap with his one arm, and Sakura is suddenly struck with the reminder of how very small her frame is beside his.

“Let me to touch you,” he murmurs, plea hot and breathy against her neck, his nose tracing up and back down her throat.  He closes his lips over her pulse and sucks hard enough to bruise.

Her fingers fist in his hair and her hips buck, sliding her core along his thigh.  She wonders how he has let her do any of this to him when he so easily makes her stupid with nothing but his mouth.  He kisses her again, less tender but more passionate and this time she makes a sound.

“I can feel you, Sakura,” he pants, shifts his thigh against her wet crotch and Sakura tenses all over. He kisses up her throat, mouth latching onto her thundering pulse and it takes everything in Sakura not to mewl her neglected frustration and grind down on him.  

“You want my hand somewhere else.  My mouth somewhere else.”  Sasuke sighs, his breath hot against her even hotter skin. “I do too.”

She breathes deep enough for the red satin around her tummy to brush against his slickened hardness. Sasuke exhales against her skin then, but this time of surprise, and Sakura is instantly reminded of who holds the reigns here.

“Play time isn’t over, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura responds sweetly, then shoves him back down onto the bed.

She swings a leg over, traps his cock against his stomach and the wet nook between her thighs.  He chokes on a moan at the contact, hand flying to grasp her hip.  

“Mmm…Sasuke-kun,” Sakura hums, allows him to guide her movement, gliding slick fabric up and down his throbbing need.  “You feel so good.”

He doesn’t say anything—just stares up at her with those blazing eyes, his lips parted deliciously.

“Do I feel good too, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asks, twisting her hips with such precision that the underbrush of his head parts her folds beneath the sopping wet panties.  

“Yes,” He hisses.  She rolls her hips slower then, makes those fine brows curve into a helpless distress. “Yes, fuck, Sakura. Please.”

“Please what, Sasuke-kun?” She asks.

He frowns, and it looks like he’s trying to glare at her but he’s far too deep in the pleasure she’s offering to really commit.  “You know,” he grits.

“I do?” She asks. “Hmm… let me think.”  She lifts herself off his lap and he nearly chokes, his hand tightening around her hip so hard, she can feel his nails bedding into her skin.  He tries to force her back down to his cock but his arm just shakes uselessly with the strain.  

“Oh, I know,” Sakura says, “You want me to take this off, right?”  She glides a path down her tummy to pluck at her panties, and his eyes drunkenly watch the motion.   “You want to feel me closer?  Is that it?”

Sasuke nods, quick and stupidly eager.  He stares hotly as her hand slides beneath the band instead of grasping it.

“Ooh…”  Sakura moans, her pointer finger brushing her clit.  “I think I’m having some trouble,” she says, then arches her hips forward. “Can you take it off for me, Sasuke-kun?”

He does so with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, guiding the band around one leg down, then the other, until his eyes are set on her finger moving in small, slow circles along her bud. He makes a soft groan at the sight of her seam, his cock stiff and lubricated only a few blank spaces away.  

Sasuke’s tongue darts out, sliding over his bottom lip.  She can feel his hand tense, squeezing her thigh deliciously before he reaches up to grip her hip and guide her to him.  She lets him, just this once, setting one palm on his muscled shoulder, the other still preoccupied with flicking at her own wet sex.

When Sakura’s lower petals meets Sasuke’s swollen head, his palm clamps around her tight.  He’s sloppy and needy, thrusting up against her while trying to force her down.  She gasps, feeling the pressure of his blunt tip spreading her, before she tilts her hips so he crosses her seam instead.  He curses filthily, then tries unsuccessfully to pull her up and thrust home again.

“No touching,” Sakura reminds him.

“I’m not touching,” Sasuke says, still trying to spear her on his cock.

“I said,” Sakura snatches at his hard grip, chakra loaded fingers forcing him down, his arm locked above his head.  “No. Touching.”  

Sasuke’s face has turned into a strange blend of fright and arousal beneath her, spiky ink locks fanned and framing his blown pupils.  

“Understood?”

Sasuke huffs in a shaky compliance, and Sakura smiles sweetly.  “Good,” she says.

Sakura lowers her hips enough for her sex to meet his base, and Sasuke chokes on the contact.  She comfortably traps his cock between his twitching abdomen and her aching pussy before she rides the length of him, the bare contact leaving them both raw and wet.  Sakura whimpers and Sasuke groans.

She rocks slowly, her gaze heady, growing lighter by the minute because Sasuke is just lying there, bucking into her, staring with the kind of helpless need she’d been aching for since puberty had stormed her out her wits.  Every part of his domineering presence has grown tensely submissive beneath her, muscles clenching, and eyes pleading.  He’s more vocal tonight than she thinks he’s ever been in his life, and she’s on the brink of coming right against him when Sasuke’s moans start to turn to whimpers and then to blatant begs.

His voice is so grainy and strangled, every other sound a “Please,” or a moan.  He whimpers that he needs her, he’ll do anything, help her and Ino with the garden and buy her sweets, he’ll even be nice to the idiot, he’ll put off long missions for an extra fucking month—Anything.  

“I need you,” he groans, thrusting in a way that makes his crown rub perfectly against her needy clit. She feels herself on the precipice, his voice a whisper behind her pulse. “Gods, Sakura, I need you.”

Sakura cums.

It takes hold of her powerfully, but quickly.  Sakura can tell Sasuke is trying to prolong it with the stuttered motion of his hips, but he’s too much of a mess himself to guide her through it properly.  She kisses him wet and sloppy, curving her tongue against his lips before pushing past.  She feels his pleasured groan as much as she hears it.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she says, panting. “Do you want that too?”

“Please,” he says, scorching breath fanning against her.

A little dizzy, but still all too eager, Sakura lifts herself over him.  She hovers there for a moment, just long enough to kiss him softly on his mouth, admiring the bereft sound he makes before it spans into a guttural moan.

Sasuke stretches her both impossibly and perfectly.  The angle isn’t quite right though and he’s so swollen that she has to ease herself the rest of the way in increments, rising and sinking with short bounces and a swivel of her hips.  Sasuke is still, but there’s a tight expression on his face that she’s trying to kiss away.

“Shit.  Fuck me,” he grits, as if she isn’t doing exactly that.

“You’re so good.” Sakura kisses a furrowed brow, then his forehead, lifting herself up and easing back down again.  “So good for me,” she breathes.   She circles her hips in the next stride and Sasuke makes a sound of pure bliss.

“Sakura,” he whimpers, “Please, I can’t…”

“Not yet,” she murmurs, kisses his wet mouth again, riding him with a shaky, but measured pace.

“Sakura, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, and it almost sounds like he’s on the brink of crying with his need to.

She stills for him then, clenching and unclenching around his girth.  Sasuke is a panting mess.  “Kunai?” She asks.  He opens his eyes lazily, and shakes his head No. He’s a complete wreck though, and Sakura hopes it isn’t pride speaking.  

She runs her fingers through his dark hair, the edges dampened with his exertion.  His breath is molten, beating against her collar.  “I love you, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers softly, and kisses him. “Love you,” she mumbles against his mouth.

The shift happens in unison, without anything but gasps and the gentle tug of his palm, urging her to continue.  Sakura rides him with long, smooth strides at first, before he coaxes her into quick little bounces, his thumb digging into the pelvis.  In moments, Sakura can feel the increasing thunder of her pulse, everything inside winding stiff and tight.

Sasuke fucks up into her, uneven but still thorough, hitting her sweet spot and making it hard for her to maintain control.  He doesn’t take her lingerie off but pulls a thin strap down with his teeth, then takes her exposed nipple between those same pearly whites.  

“Do you want me to make you come, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asks, nails biting into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he groans.

“Like this?”  Sakura asks.

“Gods yes.”  Sasuke’s hand dips between them to strum her clit, his fingers shaking but the pressure firm.  She cries out, tensing around his cock and he moans low into her breast, tongue gliding to leave a glistening streak.

His thrusts are stuttered and uneven, and the sounds he’s making are too.  “Sasuke-kun,” Sakura whines.  It’s not enough and in a fit of need, Sakura forces his chest down with a slap of her palm. She uses the leverage to ride him faster, taking more of him with the wet slap of her rear on his thighs.  

Sasuke comes apart perfectly: an obscene, moaning mess—torso spotted in love bites, arched.  His fingers jerkily clawing at Sakura’s waist, and his eyes glaze back unseeing, all the while she fucks herself on him.  It’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen, and Sakura is mewling from the sight alone.

The movement of her hips taper as she hears him breathe again, the wet look in his eyes almost seeing through her.  She’s about to speak when he sits up and snakes his arm around her.

“I’m taking more,” Sasuke says, voice impossibly low and grained that Sakura isn’t even sure she recognizes it.  He doesn’t give her any more warning before he shucks her off of him, and she far too delirious to even try to stifle the whimper that follows.

He lowers her onto the bed with experienced accuracy, eyes glossy and darting this place and that—her lips, her breasts, her leaking petals.  His hand pushes her knee out and he promptly sinks back inside.  

Sasuke builds his rhythm quick, smacking his hips into hers quick and brutal.   He too easily finds that tender spot inside her and she clenches in a way that has her mewling against his shoulder.

She hooks an ankle around him and tries to ride it out.  They’re moving at his pace now and it’s every bit demanding and Sakura feels every bit unprepared.  Her body is tightening and snapping with every rock, and Sasuke’s lips lower until they’re right against her ear—sounds lewd and overwhelming.  She’s making noises too, and they’re loud enough to echo across the room, but nothing is as deafening as Sasuke’s presence against her, inside her.

He pulls back to watch her then, and Sakura is moaning from the look alone.  Sasuke is staring at her in a way that threatens to take her apart, the blaze of his dōjutsu as erotic as the wet squelch of their hips meeting.  His tongue glides over his bruised lip and he moves back down to kiss her.

Sasuke sighs her name against her lips and the sound drones on and on in Sakura’s mind.  He grounds his cock into her in a way that makes her feel like she might be torn in half and she screams that way too.  Then he does it again and again, swerving his hips as he thrusts and Sakura shatters with a cry.

Strobes of warm and white colors snatch her, blotting out her every thought in vibrant splatters that drip and drip through each valley and crevice.  Sasuke’s breath fans on in the background of her mind, her name on his lips.

Sakura comes back from the gooey haze gradually, her eyes locking onto Sasuke’s, who’s staring at her so fondly she feels her already stilted lungs struggle for another breath. He’s still moving inside her, the pace incredibly lazy, but wonderfully deep.  He lowers his mouth to kiss at a wet trail by her eye, then finds her lips.  Sakura tastes salt.

Sasuke cums inside her with a stutter of his hips and a hitch of his breath.  She runs her fingers through his hair and sucks at his pulse while he rides it out.  It’s not nearly as powerful or drawn out as the first time, but he slumps and sighs against her side after in a way that reeks of satisfaction.  

He’s panting deep, eyes closed as Sakura kneels over him to gently tuck him out of the cock ring. She readjusts the straps of her loosely hanging lingerie, then presses lazy kisses along the spam of him—his hip, his breast, the pulse of his neck.  Sasuke cups her cheek, and she twists her neck to kiss inside his wrist too.

“You came twice,” Sakura says, trying to ignore the tickling sensation of his seed dripping down her thighs.

Sasuke stares down, eyeing a thick, milky dribble before he smears his large hand up her inner thigh, catching the fluid.  He glides all the way up until his fingers are sliding along her wet, swollen seam.

“It was good,” Sasuke answers, nonchalant as ever, strumming her with the same candor.

Sakura’s head bows, thighs squeezing together as his finger strokes a lazy course.  She makes a soft sound of protest, her small fingers curving around his wrist.  He flicks at her oversensitive clit, then dips a single finger inside her deep enough for his knuckles to press against her.  Then he pulls his sticky hand away.  

Sakura tries to regain her senses while Sasuke stares in fascination at the mixture on his hand.  He studies the digit a moment more before dipping it into his mouth.

Sakura blushes to the top of her roots, mouth hanging stupidly as she watches the slow glide of his finger in and out his mouth.  “Did-did you just…?”

Sasuke looks at her, then his hand, wearing a decidedly critical expression.  “I don’t know if it’s the lube or me, but it’s not good.”

Sakura stares, dumbfounded while he wipes his hand on a corner of the comforter.  Then she falls against him, peeling in laughter. “Sasuke-kun, you can be so weird sometimes!”

He grunts from the sudden weight of her, but recovers quick.  He curls his arm around her and presses a firm kiss to the top of her head.  “Shut up,” he says, a smile in his voice.

Sakura grabs his face and kisses his cheek, her thin fingers moving to stroke and rub at his warm skin. She hums contentedly when she finds the steady beat of his heart.  

“Was it good?” She asks, shyly glancing up at him.

Sasuke makes a noncommittal noise, his eyes closing peacefully.  “I said so already, didn’t I?”

“I know, but I mean­—was it too much?”

He huffs.  “No, Sakura.  It was good.”

“You liked it?”

“Yes.”

Sakura smiles slyly, her fingers stroking along his jaw, her eyes watching that soft, well-loved bottom lip. “Say it again,” she demands.

Sasuke opens his eyes for that.  The corner of his mouth peels up into a devious smirk, fine brow quirking in amusement.  

Gods, Sakura thinks, is he beautiful.  

“Insatiable,” he accuses.

Sakura sticks her tongue out playfully, and firmly presses herself to him.  “I’ll wring out every last compliment I can, you stingy asshole.”

Something utterly bright flashes over his expression then, but before Sakura can digest it, he’s kissing her stupid.  

“I loved it,” Sasuke murmurs.  He presses another ardent kiss on her lips, more slow this time, and now she moans.  “And we are definitely doing it again soon.” He pecks her forehead, then leans back, the mattress creaking under his weight.

Satisfied, Sakura hums, and presses her lips over one of the small, red souvenirs on his torso.   “Are you really going to stay in the village for another month?” she asks. “I know…I know how Konoha is for you.  It’s okay if you can’t.”

Sasuke shifts lazily, pulling a pillow under his head, then pulling Sakura closer.  “I was going to anyway.”

Sakura looks up at him and pouts.  “That was cheap.  Does that mean you’ll also buy me sweets and stop traumatizing Konoha’s populace by bickering with Naruto?”

“As long as he doesn’t act like a dumbass.”

Sakura snorts, and starts to adjust the bedsheets over their bodies.  “That’s a no,” she surmises.  Sasuke’s soft, satisfied expression morphs into a smug one, and the haughty look is incriminating enough.

“You know,” Sakura begins, “I didn’t get to top the whole time like we had agreed I would.”

Sasuke hums pleasantly, something seductive and satisfied dwelling in the sound.  “Guess you just can’t keep up with me.”

“O-ho,” Sakura shoots up, crawling over his nude form with playful zeal.  “Are you challenging me, Uchiha Sasuke?”

Sasuke is already smirking up at her, lips tilted in an incredibly dark and sexy leer.  It doesn’t take long before she feels the warmth of his palm cupping between her legs.  His hips shift enough for him to poke against her thigh, and Sakura nearly coos at the press of his want.

“Maybe I am,” Sasuke says, then pushes a finger in deep.

[zellestial]

you know... junhong and those lights just gave me an idea for an au... where there’s fairies of all kinds... and all bap’s members are fairies... and junhong is a light fairy... don’t know if anyone ever wrote about this but would be cool or maybe i just need to stop reading fantasy books and sleep more

Late and hastily written but, take a bedtime story from me as a thank you for this inspiration, Monis! Here’s to sleeping more, yet never abandoning the fantasy! ✨

-

Summers have always beenhazy for Jung Daehyun. For some reason, despite the abundant memories he’s madeduring the season in the sun, they still only come off as cloudy images of his friends’ smiles, and muffled, shared laughter in his mind.

Yet during the summer night Daehyun finds himself walking in the woods, with directions written over thetext on his phone. Youngjae told him to meet him and Yongguk there in thenight. It’s a great place to hang out, trust us, he’s said. We’llbring snacks too!

Daehyun settled tobelieve in his childhood friends whom he hasn’t seen for years. Moving duringhigh school and college really separated them for a long time. He has nevereven been to this part of this woods, he realizes, looking around with theflashlight he brought with him. The trees are dark green under the moon, thewind is whispering rustled leaves, and Youngjae left delicately painted arrows—which suspiciously smell like crushed petals— onthe barks of huge trees to show Daehyun where to go. It makes things easier, andDaehyun’s glad of it, but also slightly doubtful of what Yongguk and Youngjaeis so excited to show him in the new meeting place.

They never really didgo to school together. They met in the summers of their childhood, in the samewoods, when the eleven year old Daehyun was chasing fireflies, losing alldirections of where he went and where he came from. Yongguk and Youngjae foundhim confused and lost, with sticks in their hands, and just like Daehyun, theywere probably just playing around in the woods. The kids they were in thatfateful summer. The two showing him the way home was the only clear memory he’s had of the season.

And summer became theirtime. Yongguk and Youngjae won’t be there if it isn’t summer, Daehyun hadlearnt. School, they said, and it was in another town. Daehyun neverquestioned it, for some unclear reasons he’s too preoccupied to ponder overnow. They met every summer before Daehyun moved anyway. And before he left thetown with his family, Youngjae and Yongguk came in the autumn to exchange phone numbers with harsh pants because they ran to his house. They never liked running, unlike Daehyun.

It’s a clearing in thewoods, where Youngjae’s text has led him to.

Daehyun has never beento this part of the woods. It’s unfamiliar, and he’s starting to doubt hismemories of the woods. Has he really forgotten the layout of the place he spentso much of his childhood summer in? Coming back to this hometown for the firsttime after years and years reminds him that his childhood had been only faint fragments,but definitely fascinating—he’s sure of it—, for the woods offers so manythings to ponder on and play with. The woods is almost a truly, magical place for Daehyun. Even now.

Even if it’s dark there; and themoon’s bright but Daehyun’s used to city lights illuminating the sky by now, notthe stars and the moon. He figures, might as well forget the city for now, andturns off his flashlight. And it becomes darker.

That’s when in themiddle of the clearing, with the grass slightly rustling; small, little lightsstart flickering alive. Daehyun watches in awe, before he realizes how the fairylights are wrapped around a person.

“Daehyun?” Thesilhouette asks.

Daehyun swallows alump in his throat, confused. The voice is unfamiliar, yet the name is definitely his. He walks to the person cautiously yet still keeping a distance because he’s wary, and now he can see it’s just aboy sitting cross legged, looking up at him with the lights softly blinking aroundhim. He’s looking up at Daehyun with shimmering eyes, reminiscent of the night sky above and thelights decorated his messy, light, golden hair like a crown.

“You know my name?”Daehyun blurts, and looks around. Yongguk and Youngjae is not around.

“Of course. Yonggukand Youngjae talk about you a lot.” The boy chuckles, standing up, and he’stall. A second before he was so small, sitting there with the lights wrappedaround him and now Daehyun realizes he’s a tall, young man who’s shyly dustingoff his pants. “I’m glad I finally get to meet you.”

“Oh.” Daehyun blinks,and he tries to appear friendly despite the wonder of how strangely enchantingthis meeting feels. “And you are?”

The boy smiles and thelights on him twinkle along. “Junhong.”

“Why have we never metbefore?”

Junhong shrugs,looking down at his plain white shoes. “We did. I just never properly introducedmyself because I’m too shy.” He holds his hands together in front of him now,the lights softly blinking at Daehyun.

“W-when?” Daehyun’sbreathless, and somehow there’s a sense of familiarity at the sight of thefluttering lights. Familiar like the woods he hadn’t returned to for years,familiar like the many summers ago when Yongguk and Youngjae found him becausehe was too childish, he chased the lights flying away from him.

“That summer.” Junhonganswers, looking at Daehyun again and he tilts his head.

And Daehyun knows whichsummer.

“But—” He laughs,understanding but not fully. “Why are you wrapped in these fairy lights anyway?”

Junhong chuckles andtakes a deep breath, like he’s about to show off something. And maybe he is. “They’renot fairy lights.” He says and at that moment the wind rustles the grass aroundthem and the lights flicker, before floating ever so slightly off Junhong.

Junhong smiles at themand that’s when Daehyun realizes, as the lights flutter, blink, and start orbiting —as if dancing around—the tall male in front of him; they’re fireflies.

How foolish of him toassume those beautiful golden lights were manmade, especially when they’re litin the middle of the woods with no wires or electricity.

“It’s a little darkhere, isn’t it?” Junhong mutters and the fireflies spread around instantly,surrounding them both with golden light in the dark woods.

“What are you?”Daehyun blurts out of amazement. It feels like a dream. Like a dream he’s hadmany summers ago.

Yet immediately his face turns red,realizing how the question could have been worded more appropriately, butJunhong grins almost sheepishly in return.

“I’m a light fairy.”He says softly and Daehyun almost laughs at the incredulity of it all before herealizes that Junhong’s words are true and he feels it to be true.

“Daehyun!” A voicecalls from behind and Daehyun cranes his neck to look in surprise.

He grins when herealizes it’s Yongguk and Youngjae. And somehow the hazy, yet magical memoriesof his childhood makes sense now, when he sees the flower crowns on both of hisfriends’ heads, and the fruits in a basket Youngjae’s carrying.

“I see you’ve metJunhong.” Yongguk smiles, leading Youngjae to the other two by their intertwinedhands.

“I—yes, and apparentlyhe’s a fairy—wait, will the two of you tell me what all of this is, though?” Daehyun’sbewildered now, because if Yongguk and Youngjae know Junhong, and Junhong is afairy, then they aren’t just friends from another town and why areYongguk and Youngjae holding hands?

Youngjae laughs almost mockingly, his usualattitude never changed even with all the summers Daehyun had missed. “Yes, it’swhat you’re thinking. We’re fairies too.” He tells it like it’s just a passing breeze, but Daehyun’s rustled like a young tree.

“Fairies? The twoof you?”

“This is our woods,” Yongguksays calmly, his voice like the gentle river running in this very woods, where Daehyun would wash his face in after a day of sweating under the summer sun. “And I’d like to apologize for making your memories hazy all these time,Daehyun. Which is why we’re here today, with Junhong, who can light up thememories again. And you’ll remember. You’ll remember all the summers clearly.”

Daehyun cocks aneyebrow, and turns to Youngjae.

“I brought snacks,didn’t I?” He merely says, lifting the basket full of cherries and peaches.

“I’m not sure if I—”

“Come on, we’ll getyou to meet Himchan and Jongup and we’ll talk about everything.” Youngjae cuts him off with a sigh, grabbing his arm to lead him to another place.

And little did heknow, they really went to another place. But that’s another timeto ponder on because he’s got the whole summer now. Including those he’s livedyears and years ago. And the sun, the fireflies, his friends’ smiles, and their shared laughter. Daehyun remembers. 

Daehyun remembers all his summers clearlynow.

[sagara-megumi]

Matsuoka Gou Appreciation Week: Day 3 - AU || [Fanfic] Mermaid’s Tears

Yesterday I was working most of the day and, as I had expected, I didn’t have time (or energy) to keep on writing at night, when I arrived home. So, after being given confirmation that I could post it today, I planned to post it earlier today. However, I worked overtime and it was a really busy day, so that’s why it comes so late. I’ll try to do the rest of the prompts before the week finishes.

Title: Mermaid’s Tears

Characters: Matsuoka Gou/Tachibana Makoto, Matsuoka Rin, Yamazaki Sousuke

Rating: PG-13/T

Words:  4514

Notes: This is the 2nd part of THIS story that I wrote for the Gou All Out Week held in 2015. I was happy with the ending, but shortly after posting it, the idea for some sort of sequel came to my mind. I strongly recommend you to read it, since the AU setting and inspiration is developed there. The plot in both is darker than in any other of my Free! stories and there are depictions of violence and death. I’m aware that both need a revision (yes, re-reading the first one I realised that it needs it), but please, be lenient for today. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it ^^

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MERMAID'S TEARS

The butterflies were still in her stomach and Gou pressed her lips together to suppress the smile that was threatening to appear in her mouth. She was so happy that it seemed that her heart could burst at any moment, especially every time it came to her mind the moment Makoto and she had shared the night before. She had seen fish kissing before, a strange dance with open mouths one against the other that looked more like a fight than a romantic gesture. What she had never imagined that something that seemed as simple as the contact of two creatures' lips could be so sweet at the same time.

She brushed her fingers along a group of red seaweeds when she swam by them. The only thing she had to do now was waiting for him to come back, but she was not a mermaid that could do it sitting calmly in her cave. She had decided that if she wanted to be ready for the time when Makoto came back for her, she had to start training on walking as soon as possible. So, she had decided to look for a quiet place where she could take her first steps without witnesses and without help. He would be really surprised the next time they saw each other and she could run to his side.

When she was approaching the coast, another idea came to her mind. Makoto had told her that he was going away the following night, so if he was still around, perhaps saying goodbye to any friend who had made during the time he had stayed in the village, maybe she could have the opportunity to see him one more time, even if it was from afar. Something bubbled inside her and she smiled softly. It was going to be a long wait if she was missing him so much just hours after they had parted ways.

As she neared the rocks where they had said their farewells, she stopped and furrowed her brows. There was something strange in there, though she could not say what it was exactly that had made her heart start racing uncomfortably and her instincts sharp. She looked around. There were no fish around, the sea was oddly quiet and... there was a strange smell that made her stomach clench. It was metallic, and acrid. Her eyes widened in horror. It was blood.

A  chilly sensation crept in her chest, making her shiver violently. Looking towards the surface, she saw that there were no boat quills around, so she ascended slowly, trying not to feel overcome by the feeling that told her that something was very wrong. Not sticking her head out of the water below her eyes, she looked around again. The small bay was completely deserted. She went underwater again and swam towards the natural breakwater that was their meeting point and then she ascended. The usual crabs which lived there scattered looking for a place to hide as she emerged and after being sure that nobody could see her, she put her hands on the rock to lift herself up. However, her right hand touched something sticky and when she looked, her fingers were covered in red.

She suppressed her instinct to scream, rubbing it with her other hand in the water to get rid of it, fear seeping in her veins and dark thoughts invading her mind. Quickly, without minding if someone saw her anymore, Gou pushed herself upwards. There was a pool of dried blood in the place where she had seen Makoto for the last time and some splatters on the rocks near her. The red liquid had extended and and spilled over the crag, flowing to the sea.

She felt desperate, dread overcoming all her rationality and senses as she plunged in the sea, looking around frantically, her heart screaming that something bad had happened to Makoto. No, she told herself firmly, trying to regain some of her self-control, he was fine, he had to be. She dived a long distance, stopping only to search between rocks and grown seaweed. There were no traces of a body floating on the surface either, so she felt herself relax a little.

But, a small voice whispered in her mind, there had been several hours since they had parted ways and the blood was almost dry. And like the time before that when she had killed him accidentally, the sea could have swept his corpse far away.

A sudden burning sensation spread across her chest, going up to her throat, not letting her breath, urging her to swim as fast as she could toward the high sea but immediately, she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tightly. She needed to clear her mind and think logically, or she would never find him. The ocean was enormous and if he was there, he would need help as soon as possible, and for that, she needed a plan.

After some seconds, her efforts started to yield result. If there had been traces of blood around the breakwater and he had been washed away by the current, she should be able to find more in the direction where the waves had taken him.

She went back to the bay and carefully, followed the small signs that only merpeople could recognise, like the tiny stain on the shell of a scarlet winkle to the shoal of small fish which did not belong to a certain area.

Following those small clues, she arrived at a rock formation with some caves she had passed by some times before. There, the smell of blood was faint and she looked around, searching for something that could give her an idea of where to search after. However, something caught her attention just in the place where the waves broke against the wall, something long and crooked, and she got closer to inspect it. Her heart missed a beat when she realised that it was a human leg. A human leg wrapped in trousers of the same colour that Makoto wore the night before.

She emerged quickly from the sea and terror curled up in her stomach. He was there, lying completely still on the rocks that made the floor of the cave, half of his legs in the water. Several harpoons pierced his body, their shining points bathed in dry blood where they stuck out of his body, such was the strength that his attackers had used.

Everything went blank in her mind as her heart froze  and her eyes burned, thick tears overflowing her lids and running down her cheeks, turning into pearls that sunk in the water as soon as they left her skin.

“Makoto!!!”

It was an anguish scream, full of desperation. Gou swam frantically, vaguely wondering why the water had turned so sticky, her movements too slow. She reached him and squeezed his thigh with both hands, shaking him desperately. His name escaped her lips once more, a desperate whimpering plead to bring him back to her. Seeing that she got no response from him, she lifted herself from the water and as soon as her tail touched the rocks, it turned into two legs that seemed to weigh her even more as she tried to stand up, falling as soon as she lost the support of the ground, crawling to his chest only to listen to his silent heart, cradling his head in her hands.

“Makoto...”

She moaned his name with a trembling voice. Her dripping fingers caressed his cheek softly and combed the locks of hair that had stuck to his skin. He was cold. His eyes were half open, the bright green of the sea grapes that his pupils possessed and that she loved so much, gone. A thin trail of blood run down from his parted lips along his cheek to form a small round drop on the rock.

A shuddering sob left her breathless, a sudden rage mingling with her sorrow. Who could have done that to him? He had never harmed anyone, he was kind and caring and she had seen people surround him, laugh with him, attracted to his warmth. As she had been.

She lowered her head, fisting her hands in his clothes, remembering the night before, the happiness she had felt watching the cherry blossoms by his side, the kisses they had shared and their promise...

She gasped as his last words to her echoed in her mind.

'Even if I die a thousand deaths...”

She looked at his face, her features filled with expectation, a single thing in her mind and heart. Makoto could live again. She had not lost him yet. If she could take out the weapons from his body, he could start to heal.

With a sudden strength that she did not know she possessed, she grabbed one of the smallest harpoons and pulled with all her might, the muscles of her legs, weak and not used to such effort, screaming as she used them to push herself backwards. With a horrible sound, she managed to take it out and threw it as far as she could. Not stopping even to regain her breath, she closed her hands around another one.

.

“Gou!”

Her brother's voice, calling her, seemed so far, that she thought she was dreaming. Yes, maybe all that was a dream and Rin was there to wake her up from that nightmare. If she opened her eyes, everything would be fine and Makoto would be alive, in his house, preparing for his journey. She lifted her head and there he was, in the water, next to their childhood friend, Sousuke. Both were looking at her with horrified expressions and that told her that it was not a fantasy of her feverish mind. She looked down and Makoto's head was still resting on her lap, and most of the harpoons stabbing his body. She had been able to take three of them, but the rest were deeply buried in his flesh and she had not been strong enough to pull them out. After realising that it was futile, she had knelt beside him, trying to give him some comfort, even though she did not know if he could feel it.

“What happened here?! Who's that?!”

Rin's face was contorted in a furious expression and he had bared his teeth, pointy and lethal like those of a blue shark. But she did not find the strength to tell him anything, was it the truth or a lie. Whatever she said, he was going to shout at her, and that was the last thing she needed.

“I think it's not the moment for that.”

Sousuke had swum inside the cave and pushed himself out of the water, his long spotted dark grey tail turning into two strong legs which supported him firmly, telling her that he had had more experience than her walking on land. He knelt beside her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

She took some time to register his words, but when she understood them, she shook her head negatively.

Then, he looked at the man lying lifeless on the ground and touched his neck, just above a deep gash near his throat.

“Well?” Rin had followed his friend and was now standing less than a meter from her, with his arms crossed on his chest, water dripping along his slightly pale skin to the ground. “What happened? Did someone try to attack you?”

“No” her voice was barely a whisper.

“Was he in a ship wreck?”

She moved her head negatively and Rin huffed.

“You don't have to feel such compassion for that” he spit the last word with evident disgust and Gou furrowed his brows in a scowl.

“Okay, I understand that since you were little you've wanted to help every single creature that was injured, but I think this is too much” he sniffed. “And it's obvious that he's been dead for hours, you can't do anything.”

Those words brought more tears to his sister's eyes and that only served to anger him even more.

“For the gods' sake, Gou! He's just a human!”

“No, he isn't!”

He was taken aback by the strength of her words and the irate expression on her face, and despite being dense for those things, in that moment he understood that precisely that 'human' was special to her. He looked at Sousuke, who lifted a brow to him as if telling him that he had already figured everything out, and that he was too slow. That only pissed him off more. His best friend mocked him to top that his dear sister not only had been seeing a filthy human behind his back, but she had fallen in love with him.

“Gou,” Sousuke understood his friend's rage but he also knew that that was not the way to make Gou come to her senses, especially when her feelings towards that man were so strong. “I think Rin's right...”

“No! He came back to life once! I saw it!” she held him to herself desperately. “And he told me that he had died many times before that!”

“Are you telling us that he's immortal?” Sousuke asked tilting his head to the side, furrowing his brows.

“Yes!”

“That's stupid” Rin grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to her feet. “Come on, we're going home.”

“He only needs some time!” she replied desperately, struggling with him.

“Human lives are just a flickering moment compared to ours, it's impossible that-”

“He ate mermaid's flesh!”

That stopped both men in their tracks. “He told me that a long time ago he was a fisherman in a small village by the sea, and that one of his workmates gave him and the others what he thought was a big fish half eaten by others that he had found on the shore” she lowered down her gaze to him. “He was the only one to survive.”

Rin did not know what to think anymore. The legends regarding the mermaid's flesh were as old as the sea, but no merpeople, not even the oldest among them, had ever known of a human that had made them become true. However, he did not want to believe either that his strong, intelligent sister had been so gullible as to accept a man's lies without a doubt. He tried again, this time making an effort to remain calm.

“Gou...”

But she had turned to their childhood friend and he felt suddenly betrayed by the person he loved the most.

“Sousuke, please, help him...”

The dark haired man looked at her with a severe expression for a few seconds and then, turned to Rin,

“I'm sorry, but this time I'm siding with her” he walked to Makoto and inspected the wounds and weapons, leaving Rin in disbelief. “If there's a possibility that what she's saying is true, I want to try. You know that I can't stand her tears” he said extending a hand and brushing some of them from her face with his fingers.

Then, he stood up and put a foot on his arm to give himself some kind of support as he started taking out the harpoons, beginning with the ones which had not pierced him from side to side. The sound of tearing flesh made her shiver and instinctively she tightened her hold on him.

As they watched their friend pull the weapons out of, Rin could not help a glance towards the man, feeling something move uncomfortably inside him. Not even in the sea had he seen such level of cruelty of the members of a specie towards one of his kind. That was one of the reasons why he despised humans. He could not understand how such weak creatures, driven by some of the lowest instincts and filled of  ill emotions, felt so superior to the rest. Some of his comrades and friends went to land frequently and mingled with them out of curiosity or mischievousness. He had even heard of small groups of a kind of mermaids that lived on land away completely isolated from both, humans and merpeople. But he had never had any interest in shape-shifting for more than a day, when he felt adventurous or bored.

The clash of metal against metal brought him back from his musings. Sousuke had almost finished and was considering how to extract the last two, who had pierced the man's body from front to back and were crossing in the form of a cross.

“What's the problem?”

“I think I'll have to push these ones through his body instead of pulling. The point can make much more damage if it goes through again.”

“Well” he said crossing his arms across his chest and half-closed his lids. “If he comes back to life, he'll heal as if nothing happened, and if he doesn't, he's not going to complain.”

“Brother!”

His sister's voice was filled with pain and incredulity, and he suddenly felt a weigh in his chest. His best friend was looking at him too, his brows furrowed and his pupils showing a deep disappointment.

“I know you're upset with all this, Rin, but I think that hurting Gou is not going to solve anything.”

That reproach was too much to bear. The last thing he had ever wanted in his life was to cause suffering to the most important person in his life, but they were cornering him and he was not going to turn a blind eye and act as if her sister was not making the worst mistake of her life. Fierce protectiveness and anger bubbled inside him, spilling without control and filling each corner of his being.

“I know!” he shouted, and both of them stayed still. Rin was not good at dealing with emotions and they knew that when they were too much for him, he ended up exploding. “But I can't help it! What do you want me to do, ah?! Let him do what he pleases with my sister once she goes with him?! What if he decides to abandon her when he gets tired of her, or sell her to one of those places where they keep fish, and let her be treated like a monster?!” he pointed at Makoto, his breath ragged. “Look at him! What good did it to him to be different?! I don't want Gou to end up like that! Humans are fickle and heartless, and destroy what they fear! They are the monsters!”

Gou left Makoto's head on the ground with great care and stood up to go to her brother, who was panting heavily after revealing his feelings and had looked away from them, suddenly ashamed for his outburst and his weakness. She had already known he loved her and how protective he was of the only family he was left, but she had never realised the depth of that affection and how terrified he truly was by the possibility of losing those dear to him.

“Brother...” she took his face in her hands and  lowered his forehead to hers. “He's a good man, really” she opened her eyes and looked straight into his red ones. “I've watched him on land. He helps people, plays with the children and teaches them how to swim. He always have a kind word and a smile for everyone...” she sighed. “The first time we met, I killed him by accident when he was only trying to help me. Even though he came back to life in front of my eyes, the guilt I felt was so strong that it tore my heart. However, when he found me as I swam near the village trying to see if he was fine and ease my culpability, not a single word of reproach came out of his mouth.”

Rin looked at Gou and then, to the man lying a few metres away from him.

“See my hair?” she pointed at her long red locks, full of small shells and starfish, where there were still some petals tangled.. “He knew I dreamt of seeing a cherry blossom and instead of bringing me one, last nigh he carried me all the way up to the mountain so I could see a tree filled with them” “He told me he was leaving. He didn't want to tie me to him or make me promises he couldn't fulfill. But I convinced him that an immortal human and a mermaid who can walk on land could share their destiny. Someday he would return and I'd be waiting” she turned and her eyes mist once again. “We had time...”

Silence filled the cave for a few seconds before Rin sighed, defeated.

“Damn...” he muttered under his breath.

He took Gou by the shoulders and pushed her aside gently, striding towards Sousuke and stopping next to him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Then, how do we do it?”

.

The sun was starting its path towards the horizon, dying the sky and the sea in orange and gold. Sousuke, Rin and Gou were sitting down on the rocky ground of the cave, waiting for Makoto to wake up from his deadly sleep. It had been a long time since they had pushed the last harpoon from his body, and though the girl still had hope to see him open his eyes, the two men were starting to doubt that was going to happen.

Rin closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. Being on land was starting to take its toll on him. Not only was the fact of not being used to stay in his human form for so much time, but also, because of the effort he had made when helping his friend and the emotional distress of seeing his sister so devastated.

He exhaled again and glanced at her. She was still caressing the human's cheeks and hair, watching him as not to miss the faintest sign of his resurrection. Then, his eyes turned to Sousuke, exchanging a meaningful glance with him. It was time to stop.

Sousuke stood up.

“Gou, he's not coming back...” he knelt next to her, patting her shoulder softly. “Let's go back...”

She looked at him with wide eyes, her dilated pupils almost covering the maroon of her irises, pale, her trembling fingers gripping the man's clothes tight.

“Please, just a bit more... Just-”

Rin stood at her other side and put his hand on her head, caressing it softly.

“Gou... That's enough...”

She looked down incredulous. It could not be. Makoto could not be dead. He was immortal and he had promised to be by her side forever once he returned to the village. And he always fulfilled his vows. The tears run down her cheeks and she cursed them when they turned to pearls as soon as they left her skin. They could not wash away the excruciating pain that was tearing her heart as they were not able to erase the traces of blood from his face.

Sousuke stood up and looked at Rin who, with one last caress, took a step toward the entrance of the cave to give his sister some privacy to bid the man farewell. If she desired so, they could bury him under the sea, so she could have a place where to mourn without being bothered.

Then, he saw it. A faint movement of the human's fingers, and he could feel how his heart missed a bit as he stopped in his tracks, Sousuke watching him curiously. He looked carefully but it did not repeat so, he supposed it had been an illusion, the wish to see Gou smile again. However, as he was turning his head back to his sister, it repeated.

“He's moving!”

As he had done before, Sousuke put his hand in his neck and his blue eyes opened surprised when he felt the faint but sure flutter of the blood cursing through the veins. Both knelt down beside Gou, who suddenly had stopped crying, and the three watched in awe as he opened his mouth to take a ragged breath, winced and very slowly, opened his lids, letting them see two pools of bright green, slightly darker than their usual hue, like emeralds.

His gaze wandered for a moment along the high ceiling of the cave, adjusting to the light, as Makoto started to be conscious of his surroundings and his condition. His whole body ached as if he had been beaten and he became overwhelmed with sensations as each cell came to life and the nerves sent warnings and alarms to his mind.

His death replayed before his eyes. The men whom he had know for so many years had not let him utter a single word in his defense. They had called him a monster and before he could react, he had been stabbed with a spear by one of his neighbours, a fisherman whose boat he had helped to repair the year before. One by one, they had stabbed him until the blood loss and the pain had made him lose consciousness. The last thing he remembered was a harpoon bigger than others breaking his ribs and piercing his heart.

His pupils rested on the woman he adored, whose lovely face was marred by the trace of crying. His head was resting on her lap and he could feel the soft heat of her skin under his neck, something that told him that she was not just a sweet dream.

There were two men with her, one of them resembling her so much that his clouded brain only took a second to identify him. Rin, her brother. And if he was not mistaken, then, the other one had to be the childhood friend she had talked so much about and whom he had been sure until the night before, was the object of her affections and the source of the bitter feeling that he could tell now was jealousy and before thought it was the despair of knowing that even merpeople could do what he could not: live together with the one they loved.

As he set his eyes on her again, he felt warm overflowing in his heart and at the same time, an immense sorrow knowing he was the reason of her tears.

“Gou...”

His voice was faint, but as soon as it reached her ears, fresh tears run down her cheeks, her loud sobs racking her body, calling his name. He tried to lift himself up but he was still weak so, slowly, he lifted a trembling hand and brushed her cheek. Immediately, her fingers closed around his.

“I... told you...” he coughed a bit. “Even-even if I die... a thousand deaths...”

THE END

[nialledfromfics]

Big Plans - A Niall blurb

inspired from my tags on this post 

When he looked at you - his bright blue eyes swimming over your body like the tenacious current of the ocean before his gaze would crash like waves into yours - it never ceased to amaze you how much it could take your breath away. How it could make your heart race a thousand times faster and how it could make the cherry-red flush creep up to your cheeks within milliseconds of feeling the heat of his impassioned glare. How vivid it felt; the all-consuming fiery burn as his pupils grew darker and wider the longer they locked on yours. How real he made you feel. How much he hungered for you. How much he loved you.

When he looked at you, you could feel him. And this night was no different.

He had made plans, ones that he made very aware to you over and over for the past month or so as to make sure you wouldn’t forget. Not that you would ever forget any kind of plans with him, but this particular night, for whatever reason that you weren’t so sure of, it seemed even more important that usual. Sitting in one of the antique chairs in the foyer of your shared high rise condo, you heard him shout out to you a couple of times; once while you were putting the last curl into your hair and the next while you were touching up the edge of your lipstick, informing you the reservation time he had made was getting close.

“Babe!”

“I know, Ni, I’m coming...I swear…”

His hands were clasped in front of him as he leaned forward a bit in the chair and rested his forearms on his thighs, you still quite unaware of the nerves that were punching through his gut and wanting to pour out from him in that very moment. “Seriously, I don’t wanna be a dic–”

His words cut off short, not because he was hesitant of what he was about to say, but because at that second you had finally walked out of the bedroom. His eyes, still bluer than anything you had ever seen before in your life, slowly raised from the peek of your painted toes in the strappy heels you were wearing all the way up your frame, covered in the slinky little number that Niall had generously bought you only two weeks before just for this occasion. It was then that you watched his chest expand with a lumbering breath and his lips part ever so slightly as he carefully, and eagerly, soaked up every single incredible detail of you.

He didn’t utter a word as you stood there in the bedroom doorway facing him, no more than five feet from his perch on that antique chair as his gaze devoured the delicious curves of your hips and the supple fullness of your breasts. Slowly raising his eyes up to your face, he easily caught your just as enamored stare. “Wow,” he sighed out, the word slipping aimlessly past his pink lips and wavering through the air before it drifted over your ears. It made a sheepish grin pull across your mouth and you timidly dipped your head down for a moment before swallowing hard and peeking back at him, his now darkening gaze darting wildly over yours.

“Sorry I took so long,” you whispered back, your tongue lightly running along the edge of your top teeth. His eyebrow raised slightly as he held his focus on you, the tiniest hint of a smirk slowly tugging at the corner of his lips.

Feeling the trickle of warmth that had begun to flow over your body as his silent stare continued to burrow right through you, it took everything you had just to gather a breath before taking a few slow steps towards him. His eyes never left yours; locked and held on tight as the space separating the two of you grew smaller and smaller, until you were slotted right between his spread knees. You watched his head slowly tip back to his broad shoulders, his big hands easing from their entangled clasp and reaching up to sit comfortably at your hips.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, they gently scraped across as your stare flowed over his face this time. He was, in all accounts of the word, stunning. Every single thing, every intricacy and flaw, every tiny part of him that no one else was able to understand or see in the way that you could, it made him even more extraordinary to you. In the four years that you had been together, there wasn’t a single time that you would look at him and not instantly become breathless. You loved him just as much as he loved you.

His grip on your hips, strong but gentle, stiffened a bit as your hands came up to rest around the sides of his neck. Bending over slightly, your heart was pounding against your rib cage, almost certain he could hear it as you eased your face down, your lungs filling with the intoxicating scent of him before you lightly brushed your lips to his. Niall’s eyes fluttered as he felt your mouth press against his own, the delicate sweet kiss that followed sending a shiver across your body. Goosebumps raised along the patches of your exposed skin, your nose just skimming the side of his as you shakily breathed out and slowly pulled back from the tender kiss.

Peering down at him again, his half lidded stare settled on the way you were licking the taste of him off your lips. “Ya ready to go then, beautiful?” he asked you, his voice gravelly as if it had been sitting in the back of his throat for far too long. You watched him swallow hard as the words left his lips and you tilted your head just a bit to the side, your fingers slowly sliding up from his neck and over his prickly beard to gently rake through the front of his freshly washed dark hair.

“Mmm,” you lightly hummed out, “I think I need another kiss first…”

“That so?”

You gave him a nod. “...you know, if we have time…”

Niall huffed out a breath. “We always got time for that, darlin’...”

And before you could even blink his big hands were cupped around the sides of your face, clammy palms sticking to your skin as he readily pulled you back down into him. A short giggle slipped past your lips before it was replaced by a subtle moan; his tongue sliding against yours and his hot breath piercing your lungs. Your fingers gripped into the back of his hair, holding tight to him as he kissed you, harder than you anticipated but exactly what you wanted. His lips held yours, coaxing you further into him as your taste swept across his inviting tongue.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you fell into him, his body slumping back into the old chair as your hand slammed to the wall behind his head. You gasped for air, feeling his moans rumbling up from his bared throat as his thick fingers tangled into the wavy sides of your hair, holding you as close to him as he possibly could. The relentless heat penetrated through his thin henley, pulsing rampant through the palms of his large hands and through the frantic lick of his tongue. It saturated you, filled you. It made the incessant ache between your legs for him throb even more. It was unstoppable, he was unstoppable.

He chuckled against your mouth as you dragged a hand to the front of his neck, slowly using the leverage to pry your wet kiss-bitten lips from his. Choking back a needed breath, your forehead lightly pushed to his as a dizzying smile etched across your puffy mouth. You could feel the faint brush of his lips over yours as he quietly urged you for another kiss, the ghost of one of his hands trailing down the curve of your body causing you to quiver against the feel of him before he quickly flicked it up under the trimmed hem of your dress. His touch slid up your leg; his roughened fingertips dancing over your soft skin and inching closer to where you were now begging to have him buried inside you.

“What-...um, I thought we had...reservations, Ni?” you mumbled out against his sweet lips as they were still trying to encourage you into another heated kiss. You felt them curl up into a devilish smirk at your words and the taunting creep of his fingers sweeping along your inner thigh.

“We do, love…”

His other hand roughly clasped around the back your neck, yanking you closer as the arm that was holding you up began to tremble, pleading to give way. A whine edged off of your tongue as you felt the slightest tease of his knuckles along your clothed heat, Niall softly circling the tip of his nose against yours to calm you as your body tensed in anticipation. You could feel the wetness starting to pool in your center from his lingering touch, feel the warmth vibrating to the tips of your fingers from the heat of his thick body. You could feel the intense need for him crackling from the depths of your bones and it made you pinch your eyes shut so tight they bled black as you cried out for him under your heaving breaths.

His lips finally brought you back, encompassing yours as his tongue filled your mouth and swallowed the half-audible moans that he had so earnestly created by his wicked touch. You could feel yourself giving in, practically falling apart in his hands before he pulled his mouth from yours and snatched his hand out from between your legs. A gasp broke past your lips as your eyes flew open, hazy stare latching to his as he pursed his lips together in attempts to ward off his impending smirk.

“Really?” you spit out, moving your hand from the wall to his shoulder as you pushed yourself up off him a bit.

Shrugging a shoulder, he slipped his hands down to sit at your waist. “Gotta save some for later…”

“You are so mean to me,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you leaned up and stepped away from him.

Niall gave you a breathy chuckle and ran a big hand up through the front of his soft hair. “Ya won’t be sayin’ that later, love, promise ya that.”

Narrowing your eyes as you grabbed your bag off a small table that sat by the door, you watched as Niall stood in front of you and tugged on a light jacket. “Oh yeah...and why’s that?”

Tucking the collar of the jacket down, he reached out and slipped some loose strands of hair behind your ear. “‘Cause I got some big plans for ya, baby, you have no idea, but first,” he paused, retracting his fingers from your neck to grab his brimmed hat from a nearby hook as he opened the front door, “let’s go to dinner, I’m fuckin’ starvin…”

[the-mere-queer]

In My Dreams

Oliver didn’t believe in “love at first sight” but he might reconsider now. Olivarry Week Day 4. Read on AO3 also.

The club vibrated with the power of the bass. Flashing neon lights moved across the sea of bodies on the dance floor. It undulated with the hypnotic sound blasting from the speakers.

Oliver Queen watched the mass move from his seat at the long bar while sipping his whiskey. He had come with Tommy and Laurel who were in the middle of the mass, enjoying the Friday night and the sense of freedom the night brought. He had lost sight of them considering everybody and every decoration seemed to be dressed in blue. Considering the club was called The Blue Beetle, it wasn’t that surprising, but his friends seemed to blend into the blue waves and get lost in it.

Another sip, and his eyes moved on from the sea and looked out on the edges. Tables and Booths scattered the sides around the dance floor, small groups either sitting or standing, all dressed in some shade of blue.

Then his eyes caught a flash of red and he was drawn to it.

A tall lanky man walked toward a booth carrying two glasses in his hands. He wore a cherry red leather jacket that hugged his lean form perfectly. He stopped and handed one of the drinks to a girl sitting at the booth. The booth held five people total. Red jacket, the dark-skinned girl he had given the drink to, a blond guy who had an arm around the girl, a guy with long black hair, and a girl with wavy auburn hair.

Oliver didn’t know why he continued to stare. Maybe it was the jacket a bright contrast to its blue surroundings. Maybe it was the guy himself, long lean limbs, brown hair styled messily, a smile that lit his whole face. He could imagine those lips kiss-bruised, could imagine those legs wrapped around his waist, could imagine that hair so messy from sweat. He could imagine taking him in a bed and never thinking twice

Oliver continued to watch the group as they talked, laughed, even sang along to the music. He didn’t know what they were saying but they seemed content to just stay there and talk.

Then the guy looked out from his bubble of friends and scanned the club until Oliver caught his eye. His smile shrank a little and his head tilted in curiosity. Oliver hastily gulped the rest of his drink down and turned away back to the bartender, gesturing to refill his glass.

Damn it. He’s been caught staring at a stranger. An attractive stranger, sure, he’d just been staring. Where had his flirting skills gone? He should have sent over a drink, or walked over and asked to dance, or something. What was wrong with him?

Once the glass was refilled, he gulped it down quickly trying to shake off his nerves. So, he’d been caught staring, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t pull out the charm. He’d go over and ask the man to join him on the dance floor, flash a crooked smirk, and be his cool, confident self. Then they would find themselves in his apartment, rolling around in the sheets, then parting ways never to see each other again.

He finishes the glass and turns to stand up only to stop. The guy wasn’t at the booth anymore. His friends were still there but the cherry red jacket was gone leaving the table a little darker.

A throat cleared to his left, and he turned to look over. There it was. Hugging that long torso and highlighting everything about the man. Green eyes shining hopefully at him.

“I noticed you looking at me and I figured I could come over,” the guy said barely loud enough to be heard over the pulsing beats. Oliver just stared, not usually one to be caught off guard. He looked the guy up and down repeatedly, taking in as much as he can.

The guy waited for him to respond then looked over to the booth he was sitting in before. Olive glanced over and saw the guy’s friends standing as if to leave.

“Can I get a pen?” he heard the guy ask. Looking back, he saw the bartender hand over a pen. The guy wrote on a napkin, returned the pen, and turned back to Oliver holding the napkin.

“My friends and I are leaving, but I wanted to give you this.”

Oliver took the napkin and looked down to see a phone number written on it.

“Why?” he asked, looking back up. The guy looked down embarrassed.

“Would you believe ‘love at first sight’?”

Oliver stared at him. “There’s no such thing,” he responded. The guy just chuckled.

“Maybe, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter,” the guy said backing away with a smile shining brightly.

Oliver watched him back away until he turned and followed his friends out of the club.

Oliver looked down at the napkin in his hand. Ten numbers in an order that would give him access to the handsome man. But was it worth it? Did Oliver want to try to start an actual relationship? The last few hadn’t ended well.

“Ollie!” Tommy shouted in his ear as he and Laurel came back. “We’re headed out, you coming?”

“Yeah,” Oliver answered, folding the napkin and putting it in his pocket.

~

They meandered their way back their apartments, Oliver being last as he was the least intoxicated. During the block between Tommy’s and his apartment, his mind wandered back to the napkin.

“Would you believe ‘love at first sight’?”

Lust? Yes.

Like? Plausible.

But love? Could you really just let someone into your most vulnerable of places after just one look? Could you really want to just make someone happy, just so that they’re happy? Could you really want someone for more than just physical attraction after barely a conversation?

The ridiculousness of the idea put Oliver off the notion. If the guy wanted something more then what’s the point of calling him? There wasn’t going to be more, because Oliver didn’t want more.

He closed the door to his apartment and locked it behind him. Slightly stumbling, he made his way to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he went.

When he pulled his phone from his pocket, the napkin fell out and fluttered to the floor. Oliver stared at it as he tossed his pants somewhere. The effort it would take to throw it away wasn’t worth doing it tonight, so Oliver just left it where it was and crawled into his bed.

He fell asleep to the thought of long legs, green eyes, and a red leather jacket.

~

Oliver danced in the crowd not giving a flying fuck how he looked. It just felt so good to just let everything go and get washed up by the sound. There were bodies dancing around him, but only one was pressed against him. He looked and saw green eyes staring at him, shining hopefully. He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and pulled him closer.

Oliver felt leather glide over his cheek and saw the jacket practically glowing in the sea of blue. Oliver found himself pressed up against the man wanting nothing more than to be closer. Oliver put his hands on the slim waist and held the beautiful man there. Their clothes were still on but Oliver never felt more naked in his life.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” the man whispered into his ear.

Oliver pressed closer and breathed into his ear, “I didn’t before I met you.”

~

Oliver drifted awake, still feeling the leather sliding across his cheek, still feeling the long body pressed against him. He could still hear that voice whispering into his ear.

Oliver had never woken up more content than that. As the sunlight filtered through he felt lighter. A small smile crept its way on his face, joy just dispersing the haze of waking up.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking out the window.

He remembered everything of his dream. He dreamed they had danced all night. The sea of people evaporating until they were the only two left, and they kept dancing, never letting go of each other, and never wanting to do more than just hold each other.

He looked down at the napkin, still where it had fallen the night before. He picked it up and grabbed his phone. 11:23 am. He punched in the number then typed a message.

Coffee? Jitters on Main Street?

He waited a minute before the reply came.

Who is this?

Oliver debated how he should respond to that. Should he say his name? No, they hadn’t told each other their names. Say it was the guy from last night? He’d probably met a bunch of guys last night. Then he realized there was one way to know.

Love at first sight?

The time between that and the reply felt like a lifetime.

12:30 work?

The smile that split across Oliver’s face felt wider than a mile.

~

12:35.

He’s not coming.

Oliver sat at a table a Jitters facing the door, constantly glancing at his phone. He reminded himself again that not everyone shows up ten minutes early to everything and traffic would be bad seeing as it’s lunch time.

That didn’t stop his leg from bouncing.

12:36.

He’s not…

There he was walking through the door. His hair slightly more combed and the jacket shining like a beacon. He scanned the restaurant until his gaze fell onto Oliver. The smile that appeared was life changing. He held up a finger then moved to the counter to order. Oliver watched him the whole time. Watched his long legs carry him through the space, watched his hands slip in the pockets of his jacket, watched his smile soften to a more content smile.

Oliver couldn’t believe himself. Last night, this man was nothing more than a conquest, a bedmate for a night. Now, all Oliver saw was a partner, sitting on the couch watching ridiculously bad movies, in the kitchen trying to make dinner and not burn down the whole place.

He saw possibility.

Then man sat across the table from him, placing his steaming mug down.

“Hi,” he greeted with a smile. “I’m Barry. Barry Allen.”

Oliver felt his own lips tug up into a smile. “Oliver Queen.”

Barry’s eyes widened but didn’t say anything, just taking a sip from his mug. Oliver picked his up and watched Barry over the rim.

“So,” Barry set his mug down and looked Oliver right in the eye, “‘love at first sight?’”

Oliver chuckled remembering the night before. “Maybe or maybe not.”

“Last night, you seemed pretty adamant that it was ‘not,’” Barry reminded, smirking over his mug. “What changed your mind?”

Oliver looked down at the mug in his hands. How would he explain?

“You did,” he finally said. He looked up and saw Barry’s confused look, coffee mug halfway down to the table.

Oliver continued, “For a while, I decided that it would be best not to really open myself up to anyone. I always messed things up somehow. So, for years I hook up with random people who I never saw again.”

Oliver looked right into Barry’s green eyes, making sure he understood what he was about to say.

“Then last night, I saw you and I felt connected to you. I thought it was just the usual ‘hot guy, let’s have sex’ thing, but you didn’t. You walked over, gave me your number, then walked out. You didn’t want sex, you wanted to connect.”

He looked back down to his coffee. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the thought of what he was about to see.

“I went home, sure that I was never going to call you. But my dreams had other plans.”

He heard Barry’s mug settle on the table, but he refused to look up yet.

“I dreamed we were dancing at the club, and that’s all we did was dance. It felt like we connected on a whole different level. Not sexual, not emotional, not even personal. It felt almost… metaphysical. I woke up from that feeling happier than I have in years and that was just after a couple sentences of conversation. I didn’t even know your name, but I wanted to know everything about you.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, that was probably more than you wanted on a first date.”

He felt a hand nudge his chin up. He saw Barry looking at him intently. Searching his face for something. Then he smirked.

“I was the one who said, ‘love at first sight,’ remember?” Barry placed his hand on one of Oliver’s hand, and the smirk morphed into a genuine smile. “You still called – or well texted –  and after I said that. Without even introducing myself. I spent half the night, overthinking the fact I had said that. I second guessed myself after the fact. I was so sure you would never use my number after that. Yet, here we are. Maybe or maybe not, but does it matter now?”

Oliver took in everything; the way Barry talked so soft and kind, the way smiled like it was the best thing in the world, the way looked at Oliver.

Oliver flipped his hand to grab Barry’s and answered, “No. All that matters now is right now.”

Barry’s smile grew and his hold on Oliver tightened.

“That’s all that matters.”

[paragonrobits]

birfday gift for my good buddy @cryptideridan!

The table was a very nice table, and Eridan was actually super proud of his table. Surely it was the envy of all table-owners; how he liked to imagine the table collectors of the worlds he and his friends had forged in their new universe, gnashing their mandibles and beaks in rage over how none of them would ever claim a table so unbelievably fancy, so utterly good. It's lines of composite Earth-1 cherry wood merged seamlessly with the Alternian stab-palm (so named because it was a palm tree, the world was excellent for making wooden blades, and it would try to stab you in the palm), and in fact there ws not a trace of a join or mark of manufacture on it. He had alchemized it from the very idea of Table-ness, and it was an absolutely perfect table in every respect.

It was also currently piled high with dishes. Lately Eridan had been spending a great deal of time with humans; Karkat, barely as long as the average troll's finger, was about the same size as a human. Consequently, Karkat spent most of his time around them and since Eridan spent most of his time around Karkat, he was reluctantly learning human customs. Recently, Eridan was intrigued by human notions of ettiquette and the things humans put their food on; the sheer variety of bowls and plates simply baffled him and it presented an irristable challenge. He would not be defeated by the complexity of human cookery, and was trying to convince some of the other trolls to adopt it rather than just messily devouring food as soon as it was ready or swallowing it in a single gulp.

These dishes were of a human sort, and still littered with bits of food that were left. This was not much; Eridan had the appetite due to his caste, and whatever he did not eat, Karkat would. While Karkat was so small that Eridan constantly fretted over his well-being, he did have an appetite you would expect from a troll; most of the plates had been picked clean, almost all the bowls drained of any soup or nourishing elixir. The ones that were definitely clean were stacked high, some of them higher than Eridan's head; at the top of the piles were the ones with bones and other sorts of remnants on them.

Some of those would have to be sorted into different piles; the special ones he had made for long term, the ones with many different grist that had gone into their creation and so had many interesting properties. Some of them endowed the food upon them with potent effects or even potential transformative elements, others would make the food impossibly nutritious and filling (always a prime concern for trolls). These dishes looked really nice; some glowed in brilliant shades of light, some made beautiful music that only the diner could hear, others rotated slowly to bring food closer to hand, and others were beautiful masterworks of the very finest engraving and seadweller lowerglyphs (which are like heiroglyphs, but found below sea level). The other dishes were crude affairs, rough spans of ceramic and plasticine metals that would be converted into grist so he wouldn't have to clean them.

Otherwise, Eridan insisted, there'd be way too many dishes to do. Who had time for that kind of work? Not him, sure as hell not, he had betta' things to do. Kar wasn't gonna the dishes either, those things are big enough for him to sleep in, like he's gonna be able to clean 'em. Screw that! ...And so on and so forth. None of the other guests would take the work-load off; Equius had a tendency to break them accidentally, Terezi was as likely to eat the dishes as she was to eat off them, Feferi didn't trust the idea of dishes yet, and Cronus was refusing to speak to Eridan until Eridan toned down the singing dishes and made them stop being autotuners. (Cronus, in certain narrow areas, took things extremely seriously.) Everyone else was similarly unlikely to even try washing the dishes. Well... Kankri might try to do the dishes, but he had the same tiny-size mutation as Karkat and if Eridan tried to make him do the dishes, Porrim and Latula might have words for him.

Eridan, even in the midst of a supper stupor, shuddered in genetic terror. It was an Ampora tradition to fear and respect the Maryam and Pyrope bloodlines, for they were mighty and fearsome.

One plate rolled out of the way, and pushing it effortlessly away despite not being much taller than the plate itself was Karkat. Scarlet in an elegant robe he'd alchemized himself, his skin a deeper shade of the same red, he stifled a small digestive noise and brushed off a couple of small crumbs from his mouth. Belly noticeably bigger and rounder, Karkat stumbled forward to Eridan, pushing aside all the bowls and plates that happened to be in his way.

Eridan leaned back from the table, his belly swollen and the violet skin tinted a slightly brighter shade than normal. Anyone who had ever seen a deep sea creature gulp down food bigger than itself would probably see something similar in Eridan there. He stared down at Karkat with the expression that, perhaps, a wise shark might give to a treasured remora or suckerfish; it was a benevolent one, lacking in the usual fearsome-ness it was obliged to make, and it was pleasantly aware of the scraps the smaller one got was a feast by the smaller one's standards.

Eridan managed to sit up, despite the weight of his stomach and the digestive processes urging him to remain still and sedentary as long as possible. This was napping time, the appropriate time of day to sit back and do nothing but remain still as long as possible. But he longed for Karkat to be close, to feel his warmth as much as possible, and to have him close at hand and absolutely safe. “Hey,” he managed, vocabulary declining in the weight of supper stupor. “Kar. C'mere, would ya?”

“I was already doing that, I saw the damn look in your eyes, you know damn well I was already doing that,” Karkat grumbled, without any rancor whatsoever. By his standards, this was positively peppy. His expression was mild, his pace patient. By the time he got to Eridan from across the table, his usual rambling snarls had diminished to mumblings that had the shape of swears but too little sense to even be audible.

Karkat approached. Eridan stared down at him, his nostrils flaring as he took in Karkat's smell. His fins slowly spread outwards, a sure sign of a seadweller relaxing. That smell was somehow spicy, curiously inter-caste. There were elements in it that made him think of Aradia, and others that reminded him of Feferi. That alone was a strange one, and thus intriguing, but there was also suggestions of something between Sollux and Nepeta, and yet for all of that he was something singular; unique, defying classification.

By all rights, he ought to have instinctively detested Karkat. It was what he'd been instructed. Karkat climbed onto Eridan's stomach, short claws and flexible body serving him well as he slowly ascended the softer parts of Eridan's belly – which had no armored plates or heavier chitin, making it quite squishy even when it wasn't stuffed with delicacies – and then continued climbing upwards, until he found a spot where Eridan's stomach met his chest. It was armored there, but fluffy with outgrowths of smaller sub-fin structures and heat-retaining extensions, and so still soft enough to be comfortable. Karkat yawned noisily, curling up right there and laying down. He snuggled right into his chest, a tiny point of fierce heat, and Eridan's blood-pump skipped a few beats. He almost raised a hand to stroke Karkat and didn't have the nerve to do it.

Yes, he ought to have hated Karkat. But he was learning to abandon the worst of Alternia, and being brave enough to acknowledge the bits that really were just the worst.

Eridan leaned back, being careful to keep Karkat in place. It was a strangely adorable sight, seeing such a tall troll do this for something so small it could fit into his hand. He was imposingly tall, even sitting down, and certainly by the standards of his famously gigantic species. He might have been called skinny but that was just a bit off; his body was slabbed in lean muscle, and that was sheathed in sleek deposits of fat before his armor was involved. He looked the part of a troll designed to lurk in the midst of the sea; not as deep as a fuchsia, but lower than the shallows the purples inhabited, a living torpedo and death to anything with warmer blood.

Fins, dozens of them, fluttered down his back, a few across his arms and crowning the calves of his digitigrade feet, some of those flapping over broad toes more like clawed flippers than the round pillars of a landdweller. A short but heavy sickle-shaped claw arced from one toe; combined with his powerful leg muscles, he could disembowel a target with a single kick. These fins looked like he'd done that to his own fins before; many of them were tattered or badly scarred, especially the larger ones cresting the upper side of the thick, curling tail going through the hole in his chair. Armored plates covered it, tinted a darker shade of violet than that of his softer flesh, and the fins that could propel him through the water at great speed were not so big as the spikes lining the tail.

They were long, dark as his elegant lips, and connecting the spikes was a kind of dorsal fin made of translucent and soft flesh, colored a vibrant violet. Perhaps they were meant as weapons suitable for the caste meant to defend the land walkers from threat, if Feferi's investigation into the lost troll birth-world of Beforus was right. Eridan glanced back at those webbed membranes now. Thick, just a little translucent, tinting everything he could see through them with a vibrant shade of royal violet. If you didn't notice the shade of his skin, or the brightness of his eyes, or the frilled mass lining his neck and the side of his head, these left his caste obvious to anyone.

Feferi had promised him, with strange lore upon her thick lips and her monstrous teeth bared in a wild smile, that she would give him the fate of his caste, and she had warned him that he might not like it. He had to confess that he had imagined a more grand fate for his people; he'd imagined honor guards at the side of warring empresses in ancient days. Of terrible wizards, summoning horrifying angels and wresting the lore of the universe from their grasping claws. Or something even more fearsome, dripping with blood and giving honor to the traditions of war and death that marked the violets.

Feferi had warned him, even before then. War and violence was not the natural state of trolls, no matter how much their altered minds screamed to rip out flesh with their teeth or solve every argument by digging their horns into skulls and tearing hard. Alternia and the cut-throat brutality of its culture, of the eternal cycles of revenge, violence and misery, were the result of countless eons of careful manipulation by wicked forces far beyond their ken. Those things had been carefully molding their people into killers, Feferi said with rage dripping from her voice, breaking them into broken bits that cut everything they touched. An unnatural selection to make them as horrible as they possibly could.

And then she told him about their real heritage. About Beforus. She'd told him what the troll's true nature was. What, in their hearts, they could be without eons of brutality to break them down. And she'd told him about the actual purpose of his basic biology, such as what those membranes between his tail-spikes were for.

Now Eridan looked at his tail, at the spikes, the membranes between them, and closed his eyes. He opened them, because it was still too easy to imagine clutches of eggs balanced peacefully upon them, safe from harm. Or wigglers, dozing there and slumbering contently. Of his claws gently plucking up stray grubs and cleaning them, and his sonorous voice humming lullabies to soothe them.

(“You don't have to be a killer,” Karkat's voice had told him as Feferi revealed all the terible truths to Eridan and his world came crashing down. “You can be... whatever the fuck else you wanna be, shit if I know. Shit if I'm gonna goddamn tell you, too, you figure out what the hell that is. Screw Beforus, screw Alternia, screw the Empress on her throne – no offense, Fef, didn't mean you, I meant older nastier Meenah, I know you're the Empress now but I wasn't meaning you-”

“None taken, Karkat,” Feferi said, raising a scaly eyebrow, her massive clusters of fins raised as if she'd been challenged, and was spoiling for a fight. But she gazed down at his tiny, frail body and softened. Her hair became flowing again.

“Yeah, just... figure out what you wanna be.” Karkat had gazed up at Eridan. His voice rumbled like the echos of waves on the shore, but his eyes burned like the flames that had consumed his ancestor. From across the ages, Eridan imagined he saw Kankri Vantas of Alternia looking right at him and winking.)

That rumbling returned to Eridan now. He glanced down at his stomach, where Karkat was curled up on the apex of his belly. Karkat was an anomaly, his physiology incorporating aspects of seadweller and landdweller traits to such a degree he wasn't sure if it was entirely random. Eridan nervously placed a hand over Karkat's tiny form, his claws hovering over the bright plates on Karkat's back. Gills fluttered below his grasp; real gills, small but entirely functional. Karkat's tail was short like a lowbloods, but broad like a highblood – they needed larger tails, to balance their greater body mass – and resebled a lobster's tail. Eridan's claw touched Karkat's hand, and Karkat sleepily grasped it, and Eridn could feel the webbed membranes between Karkat's digits. His hand moved over Karkat's body, feeling his warmth, marveling at such a small and precious thing as he, and he felt Karkat's chitinous armor. It wsa smooth, flexible and springy. Not hard armor, nothing like the kind lining Eridan's body or Feferi's body, it was – hah, softshelled.

There was also the matter of Karkat, apart from his other mutations, being so tiny he could fit into Eridan's hand. Eridan absently rubbed Karkat delicately, with one short claw. Karkat was chubby, solid and much heavier than he looked, but his weight was barely even noticeable on his belly. He was delightfully warm, rising up and down like a warming blanket on him.

Trolls were a lot of things; in the past they had been terrifying engines of death, and now they were at worst annoyingly coddling to all other life smaller than them, which was almost all life they found. Trolls were true giants among other life, mechanical or organic or whatever else they encountered; in the measurements of humans, the average troll stood over twenty-five feet high. Highbloods could be as much as twice that, fuchsias towering over even the darkest violet. Eridan scoffed at the notion of a mere 25 feet being a respectable number, being nearly forty feet high even if he wasn't especially broad for his size.

Karkat, on the other hand, wasn't much bigger than a human. Oh, he towered over humans, certainly; he looked barrel-chested, big-bellied and intimidatingly massive, a fierce and primordial brute. His horns were a helmet, his claws daggers, his teeth hammers. To trolls, he was so terribly small, so easily broken by a carelessly lowered hand or dropping him from the wrong height. He somehow had the toughness of a normal-sized troll and so couldn't be hurt by something like that, but Eridan still worried.

(Terezi had warned Eridan about this; being in any red relationship with Karkat would inspire pale feelings. Eridan wasn't too bothered about it, since quadrant variations were increasingly common, but it was strange to think about. Feeling so pale for someone you were totally red for.)

A kiss could hurt him, if he wasn't readied for it. Eridan thought about that a lot, and often slept poorly if he was not around to care for Karkat and make damn sure he was okay.

Karkat certainly didn't lack for protectors; even before Eridan had come into his life and swept him off his feet – in a manner of speaking – there had been Terezi, constantly looming over him and fussing over the slightest detail and ferociously making anyone that threatened to expose him to the drones just... disappear. Eridan had thought her and Karkat moirails, with a hint of red, and he still wasn't sure about their relationship; that was back when he was still navigating a kismessitude with Vriska, and through Vriskam he had met Terezi. He hadn't looked back, but he did spend a lot of time looking up. Terezi was huge, towering over everyone except Feferi, and to Eridan it was galling to have to look up to meet the face of a tealblood, even one with a smile like a shark and a hundred little disguised quests before she judged him suitable to be allowed to meet Karkat.

Eridan still treasured the memory of that teal hand, opening delicately like the claws of a dragon reluctantly spreading wide to reveal its most precious and sacred treasure, and in her palm was a red pearl. Unique, impossible, a blend of fuchsia and rust, everything that he'd always said needed to die-

He spent a lot of time looking down, and looking after Karkat. A proud moment of his life was when Terezi had finally helped secure a private residence for the both of them, and she declared Eridan perfectly okay for keeping permanent watch on the descendant of the Signless.

He still hadn't looked back. He spent a lot of time looking down now, keeping a close eye on Karkat at all times. It was... nice, keeping an eye out for someone.

Eridan sighed contently, leaning back and curling his hand completely around Karkat's tiny form, his palm resting against Karkat. His fingers nestled round him, and Karkat nuzzled into him, shifting round until he was more comfortable now that he could feel Eridan's grasp. Eridan made a soft, sweet noise when he felt Karkat's horns rubbing against a finger, and the contrast of his cold palm with Karkat's sun-bright heat made his blood-pump skip a few beats again.

Eridan closed his eyes and went to sleep, and the two of them peacefully slept, bellies full of food and snuggling as best they could.

[boku-no-family]

hii welcome!! would you mind writing an imagine where ppl tease deku abt liking ochako and he gets really overwhelmed and accidentally blurts out he likes reader in front of a ton of ppl. they're both embarrassed but reader thinks it's a joke/made up so he wouldn't be teased. they're alone together later and deku asks abt reader and they admit they think it's a joke but he tells them it's not and they confess. pls! thx!

Hey my Dear! 💫 Thankyou so much for your ask!

I never mindDeku fluff! 💙

Since you pretty much gave me the scenario, I hope I did an okay-job 🙈

The room was filled with busy noises andchatter could be heard from the corridor. As lunch break was just about tofinish, everyone was returning to their classes.

Deku, who headed back a little earlier than hisfriends, was happy to meet you in the classroom, already seated at your desk.You flushed him a bright smile that made the butterflies in his stomach swirlaround like cherry petals in the warm breeze of spring. He waved at you andturned around, to hide the small pink blush that was feathering over hischeeks.

One by one, your classmates came back, fillingthe room with even more chatter. That’s when Kaminari swung by, leaning over Deku’sdesk with a cheeky grin spread over his face. “Say Midoriya, I saw you eatinglunch with Uraraka and I was wondering when you would finally confess”

Deku’s face turned a shade darker “Confess what?”,he was super flustered, but not because of Ochako. “There it is!”, Kaminariteased. Deku, still not sure what exactly to confess because there was nothingto confess regarding Ochako, started to fumble with his hands nervously.

Kirishima who had just entered the room shotDeku a confused glance “Ora, you’re so red Midoriya, what’s it?” Kaminariturned to face the red head “I asked when he will finally tell his feelings toUraraka, I mean if he has trouble to come up with a good line, I can help him”

Deku rose his head, cheeks still flushed in adark crimson. He was not really sure what was happening around him and why nowof all times? Did they make a stupid bet on something? Or maybe was he sendingsigns towards Uraraka which could be misinterpreted? Oh god! He hoped not! You were his crush and he did not want to ruinit, before he even had started.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not realize thathe was murmuring again. Annoyed by Izuku’s never ending waterfall of wordvomit, Bakugou gushed out on him “Stop playing dumb you dimwit, stop shitshedding and do us the favor to tell her already!”

Pretty much every one of class 1-A had returnedby now and was following the conversation. With all these eyes on him and you inhis back, Deku felt an unbearable wave of pressure washing over his body.

“I don’thave feelings for Uraraka. I like ______! And if you don’t know anything, thenjust stop making assumptions!”, he blurted out. Realizing what he just said,his hands flew to his mouth and he felt like he would die from a heart attack everysecond. No way could you have not heard this. This was definitely not how hehad planned to confess his feelings.

Taking a look at the other end, there you were,sitting in the back. Watching the scene that was unfolding itself in front ofyour eyes. You started to prick your ears, when you heard ‘Uraraka’ and ‘confess’in the same sentence. Ever since then, your heart had been on a roller coaster ride. Now,a furious blush was spreading all over your body, but you could not really believeyour ears. This had to be a joke, you thought, because no matter how much timeyou had spent with Izuku, he never showed any signs of more than friendlyfeelings towards you, unfortunately.

Sadly, you did not have the time to think aboutit further, as Aizawa entered the room and started his class.

After the lecture was over, Deku decided tohave a talk with you. He couldn’t wrap his head around anything during today’slesson and with how things had developed now, he couldn’t let it slip so easily.He would not be able to look into your eyes, without knowing what your thoughtswere, without knowing if you maybehad feelings for him, too.

He caught you after class, dragging you into amore quiet area. You were a little stunned by his unusual behavior. “Are youokay, Deku?”, you tilted your head a little, trying to flash him one of your cheerfulsmiles, but you couldn’t deny that you were a little nervous. Maybe if you triedto brush it off, things wouldn’t be so awkward between you two “If it’s aboutwhat happened in class, it’s fine. I don’t mind”, you scratched your head.Izuku gave you a confused look. “You don’t mind?”, that was certainly not thereaction he was expecting. Did that mean you didn’t mind his feelings for you?Was that a good or a bad thing?

You could read the confusion in his eyes andyou could see question marks popping up above his head. “I mean I know it was ajoke, it’s-“ “A joke?!”, the green haired was a little startled. “I genuinelylike you because you’re a fun and smart person, I would never make fun about somethinglike that”, he stated super serious, but as soon as he realized how embarrassinghis words were, he turned his face aside, avoiding your gaze.

If your heart had been on a roller coaster ridebefore, then now you felt adrenaline rushing through your veins like you justfinished the steepest fall off and you couldn’t help, but smile. “Well, if it’slike that” you said, hand reaching out to caress his pink dusted cheek, turninghis face towards yours “it’s great, because I like you, too!”.

[nighttimelights-prompted]

Us Papyrus and Uf Papyrus with a male S/O because most the time even if the S/O isn't gendered do they almost always have a fem body in most imagines that I have seen let's give the guys some love? Have no idea for anything specific except that I would love some fluff, maybe cuddles, anything will do :D though I got a sort of idea while writing this, the skellies realising they are falling for their male friend who they are not sure swing that way? I don't know anymore, you decide~

(alright, i apologize for taking a bit to finish up this prompt! you’re absolutely right, there’s nowhere near enough plainly-stated male s/o content for those sweet skeleton feelings around… i’m happy to give this a shot- so let’s see what may be brewing for Stretch and in Edge’s mind on that front, shall we~?

US Pap:

“Okay, seriously, how do you get a huge mixed flavor box of popsicles and only have blue ones?”

You shot an exasperated look over your shoulder at Stretch, who was watching you with his usual tired grin while he took a drag at his cigarette. He shrugged amicably, his gaze turning briefly towards his brother’s room - it was unoccupied at the moment, as Blue had decided to go out training with Alphys.

“would you believe me if i said that Blue buys six boxes at once, then sorts them into single flavor boxes and delivers the other flavors to friends with the matching taste?”

“… Holy… okay, damn. Yes. Yes I would. That ridiculously kind-hearted son of a…”

You shot one last lingering look to the box of popsicles, but grimaced and shuddered briefly and opted to grab yourself a soda instead. You shut the freezer with a bump of your elbow and moved to flop back down on the couch next to your best friend.

“not a fan of that flavor, then?”

You tilted your head back with a groan before meeting his genuinely curious look. “Blue raspberry? Hell no. I mean, it’s cool, Blue can like what he wants, but…” you shuddered again before taking a swig of your soda, as if to wash the ghost of a remembered taste from your mouth. “Just… no way. I mean, first off - it’s only blue because there were too many ‘red’ flavors, so they chose to make cherry flavors darker, watermelons lighter, that sort of thing, and just decided raspberry could screw off to an antifreeze blue color, as if that was a reasonable choice - and second, the raspberry flavor. It’s actually mostly freaking pineapple and banana mixed flavoring you’re tasting, did you know that? I just… nope. Not gonna do it. I may eat junk, but I’ve got junk standards, dammit.”

(continued under the cut … //mobile link)

… You realized that you had definitely veered into outright ranting about artificial flavoring. You colored slightly, biting back the urge to curse at having just essentially insulted Stretch’s beloved brother’s favorite flavor. Oh hell, maybe it was his too-? You knew Stretch had a thing for honey, that was more than obvious even without how much you two had been hanging out, but…

You decided to take your odds and looked back at him with a bit of a sheepish grin. Much to your relief, he was grinning too, and - wait. Was that…

“Uh. What’s up, Stretch?” You asked, your face heating just a bit further despite yourself. You forced your eyes away from his orange-tinted cheekbones and tried to recover further. “Er, I mean - sorry, didn’t mean to rant.”

He chuckled then, one of his hands lifting to rub at the vertebrae of his neck as his gaze shifted from you. “nah, don’t worry about it. it was just - er, nevermind,” he said, trailing off to a low laugh.

Your hand tightened around your soda just a fraction - the sound of his laugh always did funny things to your gut. You knew exactly why, but you weren’t going to go out on that limb when you didn’t know where Stretch stood - and even as you though that, your chest tightened a little.

Stretch’s gaze turned to your chest for just a flicker of a moment before meeting your gaze as you spoke again. “No, I mean - now I really wanna know,” you said with a laugh of your own, pushing aside your feelings with a practiced mental effort. You nudged his closer arm with your elbow, leaning just a bit further towards him to do so. “What, do I have a weird look on my face or something?”

You pulled a face as you spoke, putting special focus on talking just as casually as before even as you made the silliest, weirdest face you could manage. Stretch snorted so hard he nearly dropped his cigarette, the sound turning into a laugh as he smacked a hand to his face.

“stars, no - though that’s a good look on you,” he shot back with a waggle of his brow bones, and you shot him finger guns and a wink in return, which caused him to grin a little wider. “no, i just - uh, just was thinking about how… cute you are when you get into something you’re talking about like that.”

Your eyes flew wide open. You were stock still now, and you felt the rush of heat and blood take over your face.

Stretch now seemed to be finding a bit of paint on the opposite wall absolutely fascinating.

“I don’t - I - uh. You. You.. think I’m cute.” You couldn’t even quite phrase it as a question, your voice had gone dry and far too soft. Shit.

Stretch didn’t look back towards you, but you could see the orange glow becoming more intense against the line of his bones. “i mean - uh. sorry. sorry? i forgot - human guys don’t like to be called cute, right-”

His voice died as his head whipped back towards you - you, now sitting next to him, your arm now resting against his.

“No, I… thanks, Stretch,” you said, your voice still a little quieter than you wanted. It was your turn to look forward - wow, that really was a great spot of paint.

You could nearly feel the weight of his shocked gaze on you.

Then he lifted his hand to his mouth, tucking the cigarette between his teeth and putting his arm back down… around your shoulders.

“… anytime,” he said, his own voice just a hair quieter too. When you chanced another glance at him, you saw that he was looking back at you, a softer grin on his blushing face.

UF Pap:

“IF YOU DON’T CHOOSE TO SKIN THAT INSOLENT FOOL ALIVE WITH YOUR WORDS, I WILL.”

“Edge, c’mon, he just spilled some coffee on me.”

“AND THEN PROCEEDED TO BLAME YOU FOR IT-!”

“The city’s full of rude assholes, Edge, trust me - we’ll never get to the park in time if we stop to pick a fight with every one of them.”

Edge paused in his stride again, ready to argue further, but you shook your head and grinned in good humor as you rolled up the sleeve with the new stain.

“Besides - it’s pretty hard to stay angry when I get to see you having my back so strongly.”

You turned forward again as you finished matching your other sleeve and started walking, a bump of your arm against Edge’s signalling your desire for him to keep up.

He stared after you for a moment, horrified as his magic rushed unbidden to his cheekbones.

… But stars damn him back to the Underground if he was going to give you a reason to turn around and catch the absurd magic displaying itself traitorously on his cheekbones. So he picked up his stride until he was a step in front of you, leading the way, his height thankfully giving him added cover.

This was absurd.

It had been, for too long now - not you, not anymore at least, but his own soul, reacting so strongly to your presence, to the easy spread of your grin, to the sharp glint to your eye when you were about to reply with that damnably attractive sharp wit of yours, to your steady hand under a number of kinds of pressure-

“Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Edge’s gaze shot down to you. You were looking back up at him, a knowing tilt to your brow even as the smallest crease of a frown pulled at your lips. Edge’s own brow furrowed in response as his unintentional scowl turned down a little further. You huffed a breath through your nose and gave him that particular look you were so inclined to when you had caught on to something.

“I’m fine with standing up for myself - when it matters. That time wasn’t anything - hell, if you want to look at it another way, someone like that just isn’t worth the time you’d waste on him, right?”

For once, you had only just slightly missed your mark - but, well, only slightly. That particular rude human was still on his mind, just… not the forefront. Edge’s blush had faded, to his relief - which seemed to help account for your guess.

Edge sighed, a sharp and short puff of unnecessary air. “I AM NOT FOND OF THE ATTITUDE OF DISRESPECT SO MANY HUMANS HAVE,” he replied dryly, his gaze turning forward again.

You laughed, a low sound that made Edge’s soul stutter in his chest. Your arm bumped against his as you matched his stride - and he yours, admittedly. “Can’t say that you’re alone in that, Edge. But hey, we’re a couple of pretty good-looking guys who more or less know what they’re about - we’re bound to run into some trouble,” you said with a grin. “Well, I mean, you’re - uh, you’re downright hot, and definitely know what you’re about, so you’ve got that all handled more than I do,” you added, your face turning away from him as you chuckled again - the sound a hair… embarrassed?

Edge’s brow lifted as he looked back down at you, knowing the bright red was dusting his cheekbones again. If only his damn soul would calm down - “SURELY YOU’RE JOKING,” he replied, a rougher lilt to his voice despite his care.

You looked back up at him, and Edge saw now that your face was flushed - something that made him far more pleased than was probably good for him. Your own brow was lifted in mirror of Edge’s, a disbelieving grin on your face. “What, that you’re hot? I - I mean, not to be… weird - is that weird? No, I mean - well, it’s just fact,” you said, playing off some apparent nervous energy with a shrug.

Edge was feeling less and less angry at his intensifying blush - your words were proving to be quite the compensation for his ego and soul.

“NO, YOU - ABOUT YOU,” he managed to reply. He turned a corner, and you took an extra few quick steps to keep up.

“Oh- uh. Well… not really?” You replied. You shrugged, decidedly matter-of-fact on this topic. Edge frowned as you continued, “I mean, I’m alright, but in comparison to you-”

Edge stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop barely a step later. You turned half back towards him with clear confusion on your face.

“IN SPITE OF YOUR QUICK MIND, YOU’RE FACING A LOGICAL FALLACY,” Edge said. He captured your gaze, one hand on his hip as his gaze narrowed. “THERE IS NO COMPARISON TO ME-”

“Don’t I know it-”

“HUSH. I MEAN THAT IT IS A FALSE LINE OF LOGIC TO MEASURE YOUR OWN WORTH IN COMPARISON TO ANOTHER. YOU ARE A BRILLIANT MAN OF YOUR OWN RIGHT, WITH YOUR OWN IMPRESSIVELY OVERCOME PROBLEMS AND ONGOING STRUGGLES AND TALENTS AND GOOD LOOKS.”

Edge continued to hold your gaze as he took another step closer to you. He ignored the continuing bright red glow of magic on his face in favor of speaking further as you stood there, somewhat frozen in place.

“YOU SHOULD ONLY EVER MEASURE YOURSELF BY YOUR OWN GROWTH. AND PLATEAUING IS NATURAL TOO, SO THAT IS NEVER SOMETHING TO BE TOO UPSET ABOUT - SIMPLY A MATTER TO FIND MOTIVATION THROUGH. AND BESIDES… EVEN IF YOU WERE TO COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS…” Edge’s voice slowed slightly and he fought the urge to look away from you, despite the distracting thrill running through his soul right now. “… YOU WOULD STILL FAR OUTSHINE SO, SO MANY OTHERS.”

… Stars damn him. Was that too much? Well, no, he wouldn’t make such a mistake… but if he recalled correctly, human men were not always so receptive of words of praise from other men - isn’t that why he hadn’t yet measured whether it was worth broaching any such subject with you…? Oh, stones take him if he had gotten too caught in the moment with that horribly distracting thrum of his soul in your presence-

His eyes snapped back to you as your hand met his upper arm - he hadn’t even realize his gaze had turned from you. You were blushing hard, and were having trouble meeting his eye.

Still, you squeezed his arm, and gave him a look torn somewhere between intense embarrassment, abject relief, and something much, much warmer. “… Thank you, Edge,” you said, your voice a little rough. You seemed to be struggling to find other words.

… Oh stars, what you did to him.

“… I SPEAK ONLY THE TRUTH,” Edge commented, returning your intentions with a small nod. He fought the odd phantom urge to clear his throat. No, instead he took a sudden stride forward, his hand closer to you shifting without a look to catch your hand. He tugged gently without glancing back as he spoke again. “COME NOW, WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE, AND YOU DO SEEM TO HAVE THE GOOD SENSE TO WANT TO AVOID THAT.”

Edge strode onwards, unable to fight the slight smile pulling at his bones as you recovered and matched his stride once again, a grin spreading on your own face. Your fingers intertwined, neither of you shifting to let go of the other’s hand as you continued on your way.