#radiantly studying

[devictoire]

tag drop.

*❈ ‣ study — her soul trembled on her lips.

*❈ ‣ wishlist — just a whisper away‚ waiting for me.

*❈ ‣ headcanon — like a drop of dew on a flower.

*❈ ‣ ooc — i'm a silly little ninnynoodle.

*❈ ‣ aesthetic — condensation of auroral light.

*❈ ‣ queue — returns more radiantly as ever.

*❈ ‣ interaction — more of a lark than a dove.

*❈ ‣ call — made her sword into a doll.

*❈ ‣ psa — and yet with you my world has started.

*❈ ‣ promotion — this is a chain we'll never break.

*❈ ‣ meme — the blood of the bohemian and the adventuress.

*❈ ‣ visage — sensation of april and of dawn.

*❈ ‣ rel: valjean — much better thing than the master‚ the father.

*❈ ‣ rel: fantine — i'll see her when i wake.

*❈ ‣ rel: marius — two phantoms in the shadow of the moon.

#*❈ ‣ study — her soul trembled on her lips. #*❈ ‣ wishlist — just a whisper away‚ waiting for me. #*❈ ‣ headcanon — like a drop of dew on a flower. #*❈ ‣ ooc — i'm a silly little ninnynoodle. #*❈ ‣ aesthetic — condensation of auroral light. #*❈ ‣ queue — returns more radiantly as ever. #*❈ ‣ interaction — more of a lark than a dove. #*❈ ‣ call — made her sword into a doll. #*❈ ‣ psa — and yet with you my world has started. #*❈ ‣ promotion — this is a chain we'll never break. #*❈ ‣ meme — the blood of the bohemian and the adventuress. #*❈ ‣ visage — sensation of april and of dawn. #*❈ ‣ rel: valjean — much better thing than the master‚ the father. #*❈ ‣ rel: fantine — i'll see her when i wake. #*❈ ‣ rel: marius — two phantoms in the shadow of the moon.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Dolores del Río (Flying Down to Rio, Flor silvestre)—to begin with, dolores is so RADIANTLY BEAUTIFUL, even more so in action then in images, its like she emits a literal glow. marlene dietrich (a close friend and rumored lover) considered her "the most beautiful woman who ever set foot in hollywood". she was the first mexican actress to become a major success in hollywood, rising to fame in the silent era and becoming an influential icon of beauty and glamor in the art deco age, though she was not thrilled with the exoticizing parts often pushed on her. in the mid 1940s having tired of the controlling hollywood studio system she returned to mexico, saying "I wish to choose my own stories, my own director and cameraman. I can accomplish this better in mexico", and proceeded to become a pivotal figure in the golden age of mexican cinema, making a string of masterpieces with directir emilio fernández and cinematographer gabriel figueroa. i love this anecdote about the insane art deco mansion she and her then-husband cedric gibbons lived in in the 30s, as related by david niven: "Dolores had a large sunny room on the first floor containing a huge and inviting bed. Gibbons lived in comparative squalor in a small room immediately below. The only connection between these rooms was by way of a stepladder, which could be lowered only when a trapdoor in the floor of Dolores room had been raised. There was a long stick with which, we conjectured, he signaled his intention or hopes by rapping out signals on the floor of his wife’s bedchamber." heres a pinterest album with a billion hot pictures of her

Fay Wray (King Kong)— the original scream queen!! she started acting in silent comedies as a teenager and got her first big break when erich von stroheim cast her as the lead in the wedding march. her career started to take off starring in silent movies at paramount, and she survived the transition to sound smoothly - josef von sternberg’s weird proto-noir thunderbolt was one of her first sound films. she began to make horror movies in the early 1930s, such as doctor x and mystery of the wax museum, both filmed in beautiful two-strip technicolor (which looked like this if you're curious. i just think it's neat!), as well as the vampire bat, the most dangerous game, and of course the boy himself, king kong. a little on how she worked with her most famous costar: “Although Kong appeared huge, the full figure was a model covered with rabbit hair, standing only 18 inches tall, that was filmed one frame at a time by stop-motion photography artist Willis O'Brien and his crew. The 5ft 3in Wray only knew one part of the ape's body when she was grasped in an articulated 8ft long hand. Hence the title of her 1989 autobiography, On The Other Hand. ‘I would stand on the floor,’ she recalled, ‘and they would bring this arm down and cinch it around my waist, then pull me up in the air. Every time I moved, one of the fingers would loosen, so it would look like I was trying to get away. Actually, I was trying not to slip through his hand.’” (link)

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Dolores del Rio:

There's so much! She started in Silent films and successfully transitioned to sound, She is the first woman to wear a two piece swimsuit on screen & popularized the bikini!, She transitioned back to Mexican Cinema in the late 1940s and was a leading lady of the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema including staring in Maria Candelaria--the first Mexican film to win the palm d'Or at Cannes. She was literally studied for her beauty & was considered a beauty ideal in both the USA & Mexico--there's a whole section on her Wikipedia page about how beautiful everyone thinks she was. She never actually had a feud with any of the female stars she was rumored to feud with despite the fact that press & Hollywood culture attempted to pain them in competition... She remained a leader in Mexican theater & Cinema through her own production company. Mexican painter Diego Rivera: "The most beautiful, the most gorgeous of the west, east, north and south. I'm in love with her as 40 million Mexicans and 120 million Americans who can't be wrong" (quote source: Wikipedia)

*fan self* Leading actress in silents and early Hollywood. Lover of Orson Welles until she got fed up with him, friend of Diego Rivera and Frieda Kahlo. When she got tired of Hollywood executives typecasting her as a stereotypical spitfire (and trying to force her to feud with Lupe Velez as a publicity stunt), she ditched Hollywood and became a major star of Mexican cinema, where she got to play rounded characters

Had a career in American cinema in the 20s and 30s and considered one of the most important figures in the Golden Age of Mexican cinema (30s to 50s).

Marlene Dietrich said Dolores was the most beautiful woman to set foot in Hollywood

Joan Crawford: "Dolores became, and remains, as one of the most beautiful stars in the world."

One of the few Latin American women working in the Hollywood industry to make it big not just in hre home country but internationally. In 1931, Photoplay magazine declared that Mexican film actress Dolores del Rio had the "best figure in Hollywood." (which I know not necessarily a good barometer) but! it shows that many people looked at her for her beauty and sought to emulate her. Famous for her years-long love affair with actor and director Orson Welles, who was 10 years her junior if that's anything.

We need more hispanic representation in this!! Del Río is one of the most important actresses of her time as she was one of the first Mexican movie stars to break through to Hollywood! She’s unbelievably sexy and an absolute icon. Thank you :)

Fay Wray:

Actress prominently known for starring in horror, she was one of cinema's original "scream queens". She knocks it out of the park whenever she's with the horror genre, bringing a depth and likability to characters that would other be flat and boring characters.

An early scream queen, name me another woman who could look so beautiful while so disheveled and scared for her life

She was name-dropped not once but TWICE in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She's arguably the original Scream Queen.

#fay wray #dolores del río #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

[meluiloth]

For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

#art #my art #the silmarillion #silmarillion epistolary #finwe's sketchbook #house of finwe #finwe #miriel serinde #feanorians #feanor #nerdanel #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #curufin #amras #amrod #elrond #elros #kidnap fam #my writing #fandom event

[drunkwhenimadethis]

Spent all day studying I’m so so sleepy and my to do list for the weekend is absolutely full of challenges and thrills. I took a melatonin gummy I hope I fall asleep into the sweetest dreams ever after today…. 💤🩷 Don’t really care too much to run from stillness or solitude at this point. The only bad thing is I don’t have the mental energy to reply to text messages I had to write a sticky note reminder to do that which is like. Ridiculous and concerning but it takes so much out of me to be involved in that method of correspondence. Urges to drop off the face of the Earth, to live in the burning core alone & work radiantly

[xxladyballadxx]

An Alien Robot In Love With A Human Girl  (Pt 2)

TF ROTB Mirage x Reader

Mirage couldn’t get his head straight while on patrol because he was thinking about (Y/n), the girl he met a week ago. Arcee, one of his comrades, scowled at him for spacing out on patrol. Even Optimus had a little go at Mirage too. 

The upbeat Autobot wondered perpetually if he would ever see (Y/n) again.  

~~~~~

(Y/n) hadn’t been very focused on her studies for Uni and that’s because someone she met not long ago was on her mind. An Autobot named Mirage. The girl appears to be fond of that funny robot, she finds him quite hilarious and optimistic. The day she got saved by one of the Autobots, (Y/n) got to know him more while Mirage was driving her home.  (Y/n) drew a mini image of him on her notebook and her heart went pumping up in beats when she did that. A red faded colour glowing on her cheeks, blushing hysterically as she thinks about him more. 

The sweet warm-hearted girl held up a mini sketch of Mirage towards the sunlight that was radiantly beaming through the glass window by her studying desk, wondering if she would ever bump into Mirage once again. 

~~~~~

Mirage got ambushed by one of the Decepticons while getting easily distracted by a girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. (Y/n) has been crawling through his mind 24/7. The citizens were roaming down the road screaming in terror when a deception appeared. However, Mirage managed to take down the enemy and blasted their brains out. 

Suddenly…

“Mirage?” The Autobot recognised the voice of a girl whom he never thought was nearby. He turned his head and looked down at the girl standing by the broken streetlights, “(Y/n)?” Mirage walked closer to her, bending down to her level so he could face her properly. 

(Y/n) shone a smile across her soft lips, tucking in her (h/c) hair behind her ear, “Hello Mirage.” she had never thought she would randomly run into him. “Glad that I’ve bumped into you today.” Mirage’s eyes widened after hearing what he just said out of the blue, he held his hand and face-slapped himself, thinking that it was the most ridiculous first thing to say. (Y/n) chuckled at her awkwardness, “I was actually going to say the same thing. I watched you take down that Decepticon while I was hiding behind the wall nearby. That was impressive.” 

Obviously she wasn’t stalking him or anything, (Y/n) just happened to be nearby and somehow spotted Mirage beating the hell out of a Decepticon. Mirage never thought someone beautiful like her was watching the whole fight between the Autobot and Decepticon. 

“You could have gotten hurt, (Y/n)! You shouldn’t be too close!” Mirage spoke in a worrying manner. 

“I wasn’t that close to the scene, I was watching from a safe distance so I’m fine! Don’t worry!” (Y/n) reassured him, smiling so calmly. 

An utter silence floated in between them, the two gazed upon each other with a smile glimmering on her faces. (Y/n) looked away shyly, Mirage noticed her face was colouring fadingly with a light of red. He found that quite adorable. 

“Are you free at the moment?” Mirage asked in a wonder. 

“Yeah I am.” (Y/n) answered very quickly which shocked Mirage. 

“Awesome! Great! Wanna go to the drive-in theater or..?” He suggested, couldn’t think of any places to go and chill. “I would love to, Mirage…” She paused and took a glimpse around the chaotic mess when Mirage brawled against the Decepticon, “Aren't you going to clean up the mess?” she giggled with her hand to her lips. 

Mirage hadn’t forgotten the damage he caused on the street, “I will let the humans handle that, haha…” he transformed into the Porsche 964 car and actively opened the car door for her, “You coming in?” 

(Y/n) clutched her study books to her chest and smiled shyly, heading inside the Porsche. Mirage carefully closed the car door front and drove off to the drive-in theater. 

An Autobot and the little lady began to spend more time together every week, getting to know each other one and another. Mirage loves her laughs, her smile, her everything. His heart gets very high with such warm fuzzy feelings. It’s the same with (Y/n). 

The girl loves everything about him. His goofiness, his silliness, his jokes, everything. A human girl and an Autobot fell for each other and eventually they officially became a couple. 

(Y/n) talks about her goofball Mirage to her friends, some find it hard to believe that one of the Autobots was actually her boyfriend. She would think about Mirage everyday nonstop. 

On the other side, Mirage never shuts his mouth about (Y/N) to his comrades. Bumblebee grew exhausted hearing his friend talking about (Y/n). Although he does seem interested to meet the girl one day. Arcee appeared to be a little annoyed by Mirage rambling on about his human girlfriend. She, too, was interested to meet (Y/n). Other Autobots had a similar reaction. Optimus was visibly happy for him having someone special in his life, human or not. As long as Mirage treats (Y/n) right of course. 

It appeared that the human girl (Y/n) and the Autobot Mirage grew very fond of each other…

Mirage found his sparkmate whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with and (Y/n) found hers whom she truly adores very much. 

(A/N) - THE END! The last part of this fanfiction is finally completed! I hope you all enjoyed it!

UNTIL NEXT TIME..^^

#transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #tf rotb mirage #tf x reader #tf rotb mirage x reader #rotb mirage x reader #transformers headcanon #tf mirage #rise of the beasts #rotb x reader #rise of the beasts x reader #tf headcanon

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany

Chapter Eleven

Ravenna threw herself into anything that kept her from thinking too hard about Cassian. She’d spent most of the week leading up to Starfall in and out of Rhys’s study, and the library, mentally preparing to see Fetrin again. And avoiding Cassian. She’d been unable to shake the way she was feeling about him, so she decided it was better to just shove all thoughts aside instead, at least for right now. Her plan had been working quite well, until the Friday before the Ball. 

The healer had been in the library, losing herself in a book for the prior four hours that had passed since she’d arrived. When she ran out of positions to be in that didn’t cause her neck to ache, Ravenna closed her novel and rose to stretch her limbs. She rolled her neck, then decided to make her way back to her room to steam her gown before the following night's festivities. Upon realizing she hadn’t set foot outside for the entire day, she changed course and decided she’d allow herself to watch the sun continue to make its slow descent from the rooftop of the House. 

She yawned as she ascended the stairs to the roof, the well-manicured turf and asphalt of the training ring coming into view. Ravenna inhaled the warm evening air, the sky just beginning to turn a shade of pale pink, and took a seat on the top row of one of the bleachers that sat adjacent to the stairs she’d just come from. She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze that circulated so high in the mountains; something about it felt like home to her. Ravenna watched the sun sink further and further, the sky turning from pink, to purple, to periwinkle, to blue, to black and sprinkled with stars. When the sky had finally gone dark, the lamplights that surrounded the training ring flickered on and illuminated the darkness with fluorescent light. She closed her eyes one more time to breathe in the evergreen air before heading inside, only to be jolted back to awareness all at once.

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Ravenna’s eyes shot open to find Cassian leaning against one of the lamp posts at the far end of the ring, giving her a small smile. She imagined she turned a bright shade of pink at the sight of him in only his leathers, his shirtless chest illuminated by the light above him. She swallowed, trying to ignore the flood of thoughts and feelings that broke the dam she’d put up over the past week at the sight of him.

“I was watching the sunset,” she replied softly. “What are you doing?”

“Came up for a nighttime training session. It’s been the only time I have the energy.”

Ravenna nodded, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Have you used a sword yet?” 

“I’ve held one. Lifted, carried, ran with one,” Cassian replied, lackadaisical as he made his way to the small armory cage at the other end of the turf. “Haven’t actually used one yet, like to fight with,” he finished, as he chose a hefty Obsidian sword from the wall and shifted its weight in his hands. Ravenna watched him carefully, leaning back on her palms and observing his wings when he turned his back to her for a moment. They looked like they were healing perfectly, although she could still make out the scars she’d created mending the skin back together.

“Bring it on, then,” Ravenna said a moment later, rising and heading for the armory herself. She’d gulped down whatever feelings threatened to spill from her head, focused now on the fact that Cassian had been trying to train and get back to his pre-injury level. Cassian raised an eyebrow at her, but smiled so radiantly that Ravenna had to look away. She perused the weapons on the wall, settling on a more slender, lightweight Obsidian and moved to meet him in the center of the training ring. 

“I didn’t know healers even knew how to hold a sword!” Cassian jabbed.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Ravenna answered, slicing a diagonal line through the air dramatically as she approached. “I happen to be very talented with this thing.”

“Let’s see it,” he dared, laughing a little and widening his stance. She lunged, and his sword caught hers as it fell, sending her balance the opposite direction. Ravenna recovered quickly, and the two began to spar as night continued to fall on Velaris. Ravenna thanked the gods her body could count on the muscle memory of hand to hand combat she’d learned so long ago, long abandoned unless she really needed to defend herself without magic. It also helped that Cassian was not at full strength, otherwise she might’ve grown tired after twenty minutes.

After a good half hour more, Ravenna wielded a particularly hefty swing in Cassian’s direction and was surprised to hear a grunt and a thud as he hit the ground. She caught her breath, but Cassian stayed crouched with his head down, and her heart dropped.

“Are you okay?” she asked, dropping her sword and moving towards him. When she had nearly reached him, face etched with worry as she went to examine his wings, he turned around faster than she could comprehend and tackled her to the ground in one swift motion. She squealed as they fell, both of them laughing like children upon impact.

“I thought you were hurt!” Ravenna protested, smacking his chest from where she lay encompassed by his wings. Cassian flinched slightly, faking shock at her assault, but continued laughing. Their eyes met for a moment and Ravenna felt that familiar sensation begin to spread through her chest, down somewhere deep within her where she felt exposed, as if he could see right through her. Her smile faded as she began to panic once more, that feeling of vulnerability that so terrified her and threatened to destroy their friendship rising in her throat. She pulled away, and pretended to be shocked by what time it was. 

“Oh shit,” she said, pushing off of him and rising to her feet. “It’s so late. I still need to steam my gown before tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You should,” he said quietly, as she re-racked her sword and made for the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cass,” she called, looking back one more time before she disappeared back down the stairs and into the House. Cassian remained, still sitting on the pitch with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the door she’d left through. 

“See you then.” 

-

Ravenna was out of breath by the time she made it back to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She tried to slow down her breathing as she started the process of steaming her gown for the following day. As she hung the black silk from a knob in her bathroom, she thought about everything she’d been feeling and had just felt. It became very evident to her, as she filled the steamer with tap water, that she could not continue to ignore the way she felt about Cassian. She was scared to ruin their friendship, yes, but she was coming to the conclusion that avoiding him so intensely was also ruining their friendship. She couldn’t go on like this forever.

Ravenna decided she was content with coming to that realization tonight, and took a few more deep breaths. Her mind shifted to the most imminent threat now, the fact that she had less than twenty four hours until she would see Fetrin again. She was unsure how to feel about it, now that it was so close. Instead she focused on the wrinkles in the gown, more specifically, on making them non-existent. This was a mind-numbing enough task that eventually her heart rate began to slow, and by the time she finished she was exhausted and more than ready to fall into her bed. 

When Ravenna woke the next morning, there was a split second of bliss before she remembered that tonight was Starfall and she would be attending the Ball in an attempt to sweet talk her ex-fiance. It all sounded like something Ravenna might read in one of her novels, not something that would actually happen in her ordinary life. But here she was. She still stayed in bed as long as was virtually possible, before she hauled herself up. 

She rose from bed slowly, and drew a warm bath for herself, tossing a few lavender sprigs and herbs in with the hot water. It was still early enough, and she wanted to at least try to enjoy her morning without the crushing weight of anxiety in her chest. When she was sufficiently clean and bathed, she wrapped herself in a towel and sat at the mirror to comb her hair. The black locks had been tangled and the de-tangling process took quite a bit of effort. After about ten minutes of combing, her dark hair fell in tendrils down her back, still damp. 

She surveyed herself in the mirror once more, admiring the way her features looked when she was completely clean-faced, free of makeup or alteration. Her Fae-ness was almost more evident in the natural slopes and lines of her face, the thick black lashes that framed soft, round eyes. Ravenna dressed in a simple maroon tunic and leathers, heading for the dining room to get breakfast. 

Ravenna found Mor at the dining table alone, thumbing through some sort of magazine and eating a banana. 

“Hey sister,” Ravenna said, tousling Mor’s hair as she passed to take the seat across from her with a blueberry scone in hand. 

“Ravenna! Just who I wanted to see,” she mused, turning towards the healer with wide, brown eyes. “We should get ready for the Ball together.”

“Yes please! I’m going to need help doing something with my hair. I’m not very good at any of that,” Ravenna replied, running her fingers through the ends of her curls.

“I’m not either, but maybe if we combine forces we’ll put out an acceptable finished product,” Mor replied with a smile. “How are you feeling about it all?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m excited about the Fetrin side of things,” she said, taking a chunk of muffin and popping it in her mouth. “But I’m honestly kind of looking forward to dressing up and looking pretty.”

Mor smiled again. “I never thought I’d hear you say such a thing! Don’t say people never change,” she replied. Ravenna rolled her eyes playfully and continued in on her breakfast. “Well why don’t you come to my room around 4:00 and we can get ready together and then go over there?”

“I’ll see you at 4:00 then, champagne or wine?” Ravenna asked.

“Mmmm…. Let’s do champagne. Tamer, so you can still focus. You’re gonna love it though, seriously. I was over at the hall this morning and the floral arrangement is ridiculous.”

Ravenna laughed as she finished the rest of her muffin, pushing up from the table once more. “See you at 4:00 then.”

-

At 3:57, Ravenna made her way across the House to Mor’s suite on the opposite end, two bottles of champagne and a luxury gown in tow. When she arrived, she found that Mor already had a record spinning at full volume on the huge wooden record player atop her coffee table, next to which was an open bottle of gin. Ravenna’s mood lifted almost instantly, and she joined her friend, popping the first bottle of champagne and pouring them each a glass.

The females perched in front of the expansive bathroom mirror that framed the double-sink vanity, applying various rouges and glitters. Mor opted for a scarlet red lip, while Ravenna stuck with more of a black cherry color. The more the bubbles spread through her chest, the more confident Ravenna felt. Mor had helped her to braid her hair back into a neat plait that crowned her waves. By the time she was ready to put on her gown, she was sure she’d catch Fetrin’s eye immediately. Rhys had assured her he was, in fact, planning to make an appearance. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to have known that or not. Fortunately, after her second glass of champagne, she had nearly forgotten how nervous she was.

Once she had her gown on and zipped, cinched in the places she wanted it to hug her body more, she zipped Mor up, and they were on their way. Mor wore a stunning crimson gown that was every bit her style, yet somehow elevated even further. Her golden hair was tucked nicely into a low bun that Ravenna was sure would come undone by her fifth drink tonight. 

Rhysand and Azriel, who had offered to fly the girls to the Ball, met them on the balcony. Ravenna resisted the urge to ask where Cassian was, and doubly resisted the urge to provoke his voice in her head. She knew he would be there, she just hoped he would be nearby in case something happened, she explained to the voice in her head. Ravenna flew with Rhys, who she scolded for the turbulent ride that made her head spin at times. 

“Remember, we’ll always be around,” Rhys said to her as they coasted. “I’ll introduce myself to him personally as well.”

“Thanks,” she answered. “I’ll be okay, I think, honestly. One more drink and I’ll be a social butterfly.”

“Cassian and Az will be keeping a constant eye out regardless,” Rhys said, glancing down at her.

“What?” she said, furrowing her brows at the High Lord above her.

“What?” he repeated.

“You made a face,” Ravenna replied.

“I did not make a face,” Rhys answered coolly. “I’m just telling you that Cassian will be there, he’s just not with us right now.”

Ravenna didn’t respond for a moment, looking out at the sky around them. “I didn’t ask,” she answered. “But thanks, anyway.”

They landed smoothly, and Ravenna only stumbled slightly upon impact. She straightened out her skirts, smoothing the gown against her legs. The fabric hugged the fullness of her hips comfortably, cascading up to hold the weight of her breasts up, while the rest of the open back was covered with the sheer cape imbued with rhinestones. She took a deep breath and took Rhysand’s outstretched arm, allowing him to lead her into the hall with Mor and Azriel right behind them. She held her head high, allowing a smile to grace her lips. Rhys led them to the bar, a move that Ravenna appreciated deeply. 

The healer ordered a glass of wine to sip on, the last ingredient she needed in order to have the confidence to do what she needed to. Mor hadn’t overexaggerated when she said the hall had been decorated beautifully. There were marvelous strings of lights illuminating the cathedral-like room, the entrance adorned with an archway of flora and fauna of greens and whites and golds. It was beautiful. She decided to make her way out to the balcony at the end of the room, as the sun was setting quickly behind the mountains and she wanted to catch it from such an amazing space.

She rested against the railing of the balcony, admiring the sun on her face as it made its departure behind Velaris. Ravenna continued sipping her wine, focused on enjoying the change from day to night that made Starfall so magnificent. 

I like the gown.

Ravenna turned from where she stood at the rail of the balcony, her heart picking up speed in her chest and her head feeling the rush of the champagne that made Cassian’s voice in her head sound like it was dripping honey. He stood before her now, in a sleek, all black suit, adorned with gold. His hair was half tied back, wings looming behind him. He smelled like he had just stepped out of the shower, freshly shaven, like clean laundry and evergreen. His brown eyes widened as their eyes met, and once again, she watched Cassian’s gaze drift down her body and then back up to her face, an almost glazed look on his face. She’d never say it out loud, but she loved the way he was looking at her.

Thanks. You look nice too.

Ravenna almost felt lightheaded, looking up at him, his scent becoming overwhelming, intoxicating. His face was illuminated by the faintest glow of the moon that was beginning to replace the sun, and she could see the stars starting to freckle the dark sky behind him. He looked beautiful. She hoped she hadn’t accidentally said that into his mind too.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by someone Ravenna had not seen in about 30 years, and had not spoken to in centuries. 

“Ravenna Annric,” he breathed, and suddenly she felt as if she’d been transported to a different time, looking up into eyes darker than her own, jet black hair that showed no hint of change from when they were seventeen. She let it shake her for a split second, until she blinked and started playing the role she’d been practicing for.

“Fetrin?” she gasped, eyes wide, as if she’d thought she’d never see him again (she hadn’t). He leaned forward to embrace her, and she fought the urge to get lost in his scent and the memories it triggered. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he breathed. His picture perfect smile revealed the lines near his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time they’d spoken. He looked like he’d grown up at some point. Ravenna made sure to blink slowly, looking up at him with round eyes and soft lashes.

“You too,” Ravenna mused. “I thought I’d never see you again… after the way we left things. It was a shot in the dark that I sent that invitation.” She turned to introduce Cassian, but found that he was no longer next to her. 

“I’m glad you did,” Fetrin answered, looking at her intently. Ravenna sipped her wine once more, for another boost of courage. She sensed that she did have the upper hand in this dynamic; that perhaps he felt ashamed of the reason she had left him.

“Well, welcome to the Night Court,” she said, resting a hand on his arm and guiding him back inside. “I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been up to, after we get you a drink.” He allowed her to lead him through the glass doors from the balcony into the greater room. Ravenna scanned the room quickly, but still could not place Cassian, though she saw Rhys chatting with a group of Winter Court officials across the throng of Fae. 

Ravenna exchanged her half empty glass of wine for two champagne flutes from a nearby waiter, handing one to Fetrin. 

“To reconnecting with old friends,” she said, raising her glass to him. He tipped his head to her, clinking his glass to hers, and they both sipped in silence for a moment. She met his eyes over her glass, looking away again quickly. 

“So what have you been up to all these years?” Fetrin asked as he scanned the room. “I never knew where exactly you went after you left.” His voice grew quieter towards the end.

“I became a healer for the Night Court army,” Ravenna answered. “I’ve mostly been here ever since, healing for the High Lord and his battalions. I’ll introduce you later.”  

“Of course,” Fetrin breathed, “healing always made you shine.”

She smiled up at him. “I was made for it, I think.” He grinned back at her, then let his eyes wander, taking her in from head to toe. Ravenna pretended she didn’t notice. 

“What about you?” she asked. “What have you been doing?”

“I do a lot of diplomatic work right now,” he answered, looking around again and then leaning in closer to her ear. “They just offered me Lead Emissary.”

Ravenna pretended to be surprised and utterly wowed by this admission, gushing over his accomplishment. “I’m so proud of you, that is so exciting! I always knew you’d get it.”

“I don’t even know how I got the position, honestly. There were so many other great candidates.” Ravenna knew how he got the position, as the outgoing Lead Emissary was Fetrin’s father. 

“No one is quite as good as you, Fetrin,” she cooed, leaning into him as he puffed his chest out a little more. Ravenna was almost shocked at how easy it was. Just by chance, Ravenna caught Rhys’s eye across the room at that moment, and he moved to make his way through the crowd of High Fae in their finery. She patiently awaited his arrival, sipping on the champagne she still held.

A/N: I tried to make this chapter a little longer and was going to keep going but decided I need to break it up a little because I've been writing for too long tonight LOL. Do we prefer shorter or longer?? Let me know. I also kinda wanna share my vision for the looks for the Ball because ugh so cute. Anyways, enjoy <3

Epiphany Masterlist

#acotar oc #acotar fic #acotar #cassian acotar #acotar angst #cassian angst #acotar fanfiction #cassian x oc #cassian x reader #cassian fluff #cassian #acosf #cassian friends to lovers #friends to lovers

[bun-lapin]

Congrats on 100 followers!!!!!!! Was wondering if I could request either #3 or #6 from your event prompt list with Rook Hunt, fluff, romantic with either gn or male reader?

Thank you so much~!! You're one of my earliest mutuals (like, first or second??) so I was super excited to see your request for the event! And with Rook Hunt no less! I absolutely adore his theatrical and flowery mannerisms but I tried to dial it down a little for this one lol I hope enjoy what I came up with for this prompt~! <3

Prompt: Smile Genre: Romantic / Fluff Character(s): Rook Hunt, m!reader CW: hand kiss, forehead kiss, French language

Leaning back with a comfortable sigh, you rest your shoulders against the firm trunk of the ancient apple tree that towers above you. The morning sun filters down through the green leaves overhead in gentle scales of light and you hear the chirping melodies of birds in the trees nearby. Tilting your head upwards, you smile and call out softly, “How much longer are you planning on staying up there, Rook?”

Looking down at you from his well-hidden perch on a sturdy tree limb, Rook smiles joyfully and politely tips the brim of his hat. With his eyes sparkling with delight, he replies in a clear whisper, “My apologies for the wait, mon cœur! It will be just a few moments more. My quarry is nearly within my grasp.” Turning to look at a branch below him, he silently tilts his head in thought and then whistles a perfectly performed bird call. A response call rings out from the spot under Rook’s watchful eye and then a small bird flies out from its hiding place. Quickly lifting the camera in his hands, Rook points the lens at the bird as it flies off towards the horizon and you hear the soft click of the camera’s shutter. With a satisfied smile on his face, he murmurs in a dreamlike voice, “Quel oiseau magnifique! This is the perfect location for capturing the beauty of birds in flight!”

You watch Rook gracefully climb down the tree and laugh when he lands on his feet in front of you with a little flourish. You turn to look in the direction of the small bird in the sky and ask, “What kind of bird was that?”

Rook follows your gaze and lets out a soft, almost musical sounding sigh, “It’s a bird found only here on this island. A starlight sage swallow.” You turn to look back at him and Rook smiles radiantly towards you, “The swallow is an auspicious sign. Many cultures regard it as a sign of good luck!” He takes your hand in his and brushes several soft kisses against the back of your hand. Pressing your palm against his cheek, he states in an alluring voice, “Not that I have any need for that kind of luck. With you by my side, I have all the good fortune I could want for countless lifetimes.”

You smile warmly at him and reply, “Well I hope I brought you good luck in getting some beautiful photographs today.”

Rook lets out a light, carefree laugh. “Mais bien sûr! There is no doubt in my mind these photos will develop beautifully! All thanks to you, mon rêve!” He smiles affectionately as he studies your face for a moment, but then suddenly glances over to the side at a patch of tall grass. Pressing a finger to his smiling lips, he gives you a wink and begins to creep silently into the grass. Reaching his destination, he glances over his shoulder at you with a playful look in his eyes. Rook then raises his fingers to his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle, causing a small bird to erupt into flight from its grassy hiding place. The sudden sound of furiously flapping wings startles you and you instinctively turn your head sharply to the side to watch the bird rush off into the sky. Rook suddenly calls out to you, “Arrête! Don’t move!”

You freeze in place, listening and waiting for further instruction, when you hear the snapping sound of the camera’s shutter. You look over and see Rook holding his camera pointed directly at you, an expression of joy and wonder radiating from his face. You laugh and playfully ask, “Why did you take my picture? I thought we were out here to photograph birds.”

Rook wags his finger in a gently teasing way and laughs, “Remember, mon trésor, I am a hunter of beauty above all else!” Lowering his camera, he begins to slowly walk back to your side as he says, “I could not resist the urge to photograph your captivating form. The way the sunlight falls across your face, the curve of your cheeks.” Finally reaching your side, he reaches out to you and softly strokes the side of your face. Brushing a kiss against your brow, he continues in an enraptured voice, “The sound of your laughter, the blaze of joy in your eyes! There is so much of this moment and of you, that I wish to always hold tight in my heart and treasure for the rest of my life.”

You smile softly and think over Rook’s words for a moment before asking, “How about we take a picture together then? To help us always remember this moment.”

Rook gasps with delight and quietly exclaims, “Bonne idée! What a brilliant thought, my love!” You laugh at his enthusiasm and Rook laughs right along with you. Holding his camera at arms length and pointing it towards the two of you, Rook nestles up against your side and places his head on your shoulder. In a dreamlike whisper, he says, “In the face of this shared eternity, let us smile together now, mon amour.”

#event writing #request writing #twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #rook hunt #rook x reader #m!reader #fluff and romance #bun-lapin écrit

[audioletter]

Day Thirty: Only One Bed (AR1 for @colonelshepparrrrd) (Author's note: Gregory, Queensland is a real place, and my father lived there for a brief time. The more you know!)

Ronon was inches from the kangaroo. A stare down of epic proportions was occurring - the kangaroo laying languid in the shade of a gumtree, and Ronon on all fours.

"This is going to end badly," Rodney whined. "Did he not watch the videos we sent him on Australian wildlife before coming here?"

Teyla walked around Rodney's left, putting one of their carry boxes down near his feet. "You know you cannot stop Ronon when he's on a mission."

Rodney spluttered, his tablet almost flying out of his hands. "And today's mission is get kicked in the face by a muscly marsupial?" A sudden movement and he ducked, squealing a little in a distinctly unmasculine way. "A BIRD just dive-bombed me! What is with this country?"

"That was a magpie, mate, did you need an ice cream container with eyes? Scares 'em off." A warm looking woman walked towards them with John by her side, and Rodney touched his head for injuries. "You'll be fine, they're just protecting their babies."

"Well, is everything out here planning to kill us?" Rodney asked the woman, who introduced herself as Sharon. "I'd heard rumours of your country but…"

Sharon laughed. "Welcome to Gregory, mate. I'd probably get your friend away from the 'roo though, he's going to get a swift biff to the face if he's lucky and one to the nether-regions if he's not."

John walked over and collared Ronon - not an easy feat - pulling him away from the kangaroo who seemed unfazed by the whole thing. "Not now, Ronon, we need to find this ZPM that's been detected here."

"We were just bonding," Ronon growled, but he gave the kangaroo one last dark look before dragging himself over to the group, now surrounded by the last cases of detection equipment from their very out-of-place SUV hire car.

"You'll need a place to stay, right?" Sharon said, putting her hands on her hips. "The Gregory Downs Hotel is mine, and I've only one room left but you're welcome to it."

"That would be excellent, thank you," John smiled, and Rodney rolled his eyes at Sharon's flushed cheeks and shy smile in response. "Where can we check-in?"

The sound of birds and rustling of trees broke through the oppressive heat, the humidity almost killing Rodney the moment they'd stepped out of the car in Gregory, Queensland's...well, "main town" seemed like a stretch, with a population of twenty-five max, but the landscape was, despite being extremely sparse, rather beautiful.

"Ah, nah, we can fix that up in a bit, let's get your stuff to your room." Sharon lead the way, pulling a worn key out of her pocket. The hotel was wood and corrigated iron - Queenslander architecture Rodney had learnt in his study of the area - and she reached a door, wigging the key and swinging the door open to display an even more sparse room than the outside terrain.

And only one bed.

"Sorry, mates, we're full because of a caravan party dropping in, but there's a couch - well, it's a bit buggared but you can make do." She smiled at Teyla. "No doubt these gentlemen will let the lady have the bed, and I'll get you some extra blankets and pillows, all good?"

"All good," John smiled radiantly again, but even Rodney picked up on his dread at the room. "Is there somewhere we can eat?"

"Oh, nah yeah, you can get a good feed at Murray's." She turned and pointed directly next to the hotel. "He'll set you right. Did ya wanna come sign in now, get it over and done with before you fang down?"

"'Fang down'?" Teyla muttered under her breath, moving into the room and testing the bed. It seemed servicable to Rodney's eyes and Teyla's expression confirmed that, and she stood happily. "'Fang down' means to eat?"

Sharon laughed, heartily. "Welcome to Australia, Yanks." She stopped as she turned to walk out. "Oh, 'Yanks' is a term of endearment here, so don't take it too serious, yeah?"

The four of them stared at her and nodded in unison, Rodney clocking the lack of air con and sighed as Sharon left them alone in the room.

—

"No one seems to know anything about a Zed-PM," Rodney groaned, entering the room and throwing himself down on the bed. "And stop trying to get into fights with kangaroos, Ronon."

"I could take one."

"No doubt you could!"

John sighed. "We should get some sleep. Sharon's left some blankets and pillows which is good."

Teyla frowned. "The floor is tile, and the couch seems uncomfortable - certainly we have slept in closer quarters than this bed which seems big enough for all of us?"

A silence fell over the group - awkward, embarrassed and thoughtful - and it was Ronon who threw himself down next to Rodney on the bed and grinned. "Seems fine by me."

"No snuggling," Rodney muttered, knowing he was in for a restless night of Ronon thrashing in his sleep, but he was so tired from the flight to Brisbane, then Cairns, then the massively long drive to Gregory, that he didn't care if he slept on a pile of rocks.

Everyone took their time to get ready, eventually all piling into the surprisingly comfortable bed. The ceiling fan rotated quietly above them, Rodney happily full from the shockingly amazing meal they'd had at Murray's as they lined up, four in a row, on the queen sized bed.

"Good night, all," Teyla whispered from her end of the bed, curled up. "This humidity may be hard to sleep in but let's try."

A chorus of good nights rang through the air, and Rodney found himself falling asleep before he could even complain about the thick air and thin sheet.

—

The next morning - well, it was a game of Jenga to work out exactly how to get them out of the bed. Teyla was still in her ball, but Ronon was very heavily leaning into Rodney, his arm thrown over him, John pressed against Rodney's other side and snoring soundly.

Of course I had to be in the middle, Rodney inwardly groaned, gently picking up Ronon's arm off him and trying to get out of the AR1 puddle. It was going to be impossible until -

"Good morning," Teyla beamed, waking John up in the process. An escape route, Rodney thought, ignoring Teyla and crawling over the top of them to freedom.

"Did you sleep well?" John smirked, stretching his arms above his head.

"Let's just find this Zed-PM before I die of heat stroke and Ronon gets us kicked out for terrorising local wildlife."

"Good plan," Teyla and John said in unison.

#audiolettertober fic #stargate atlantis #ar1 #GO TO AUSTRALIA MATES #and yank is a term of endearment #...in most cases and yes only 1/4th of them are actually americans but eh sharon doesn't know #all this because colonelsheparrrrd wanted ronon to stare down a kangaroo #the things i do for you bb #why is this so long #also i'm aussie and a queenslander so come at me bro #sharon is not real but based on a real person WHO actually saved my dad's life! such depth here amiright (not) #sounds of then by GANGgajang is obvi the song for this fic

[pink-ttes]

ℐׅ 핑크 ─ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY : A CAI ARNELA STORY

“I’M SO SICK OF MYSELF, I’D RATHER BE ANYONE ELSE.”

CHARACTERS. cai arnela, hailey seo, armani yoon

WARNINGS. infidelity, sexual content, arguing, i believe that’s all !

WORD COUNT. 2.1K

 Summer in the Hamptons was a dream to Nelly. She imagined vacationing on a yacht and in a guesthouse where she didn’t have to pay would be amazing but she never dreamt it’d be this amazing. She felt like one of the elites. She felt like a real celebrity, like the girls she could only admire from a distance when she was younger. She was developing into one of those girls. 

She no longer lived in their shadows, walking behind them and tracing their steps. She was having her metamorphic growth from a moth into a butterfly, its wings a bold and beautiful color. 

This trip could’ve been even more perfect if she hadn’t had to share her newfound spotlight. With Tana, Charmeine, Briar, and Hailey on this trip, she’s sure she’d be fighting for limelight all three months. Tana with her millions of men, Charmeine and Briar simply existing with their charm, and Hailey…being Hailey. She was going to get her way no matter the cost. A true queen bee at heart, ruthless at the throne. 

Hailey was smart and calculated and while some may say she’s constantly in competition with her best friend Briar, she was Nelly’s biggest competition at heart. Don’t get Nelly wrong, she admired Briar. She spent her whole childhood in the shadows lurking, studying her and Tana. But none of them were as computed as Hailey proved to be. Everything she did she did it with a purpose. She’d make a proficient chess player with the way she estimates for every piece to fall into place. 

Nelly, as much as she kind of hated her, really commended Hailey. She envied her intelligence, desiring to be as criminally manipulative and perceiving as she was. It’s no wonder she’s as successful as she is. 

Nelly sits awkwardly in the loveseat to the side of the living room, sunlight filtering in through the large window-door. She’s in a cumbrous state of trying too hard to be a part of something while not knowing if she’s trying enough. The other girls are sprawled over the other two couches, gossiping about separate events. She takes a sip of the champagne, wincing at the taste immediately. Truthfully, Nelly hates the taste of champagne—of alcohol in general, really. Growing up, she never understood how anyone drank it for pleasure. She remembers trying it when she was around twelve years old, sneaking it from one of those rich families that her mother and father worked for. She just wanted to know what it tasted like. And what it felt like to drink such a grown up expensive drink. She sure found out, though. She regretted it when she had to gargle cups of water to try and flush the bitter taste from her pallet. 

She watches the way they laugh when Hailey says something harshly clever. Hailey is always the talk of the party, she always keeps the guests intrigued with her chinwag and witty entail on peoples’ lives. Because from a relatively neutral perspective (as neutral as opinions regarding Hailey could get), Hailey has the perfect life. She’s rich, smart, pretty, and has a pretty boyfriend—she has it all.

Hailey has too much power. Nelly can’t stand it. To her, Hailey isn’t deserving of any of the power she’s given. If anyone deserves it, she believes, it’s her. And sure, in recent months she’s gained her fair share of attention and tastes of luxury, but it isn’t enough. She wants more. She needs more. Somehow, someway, she’s going to get more. 

And it’s almost as if a miracle worker was on her side, because a fruit fell right into her lap. Armani emerges from behind Hailey, his arms snaking around her before placing several gentle kisses on the shorter girl's cheek. Hailey blushes, smiling shyly and radiantly as her friends jokingly coo at them. 

She watches as he sweeps off into the kitchen, a thoughtful look drawn over her face.

Nelly gets up from her seat without saying a word, silently excusing herself. She irrupts into the kitchen where she sees Armani digging in the cooler. She saunters over to him, tapping his shoulder with her pointer finger. 

He flinches, turning around to face Nelly. He holds two beers in his hand, relieved to see that it’s just her. He sighs. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes with a coy smile. 

His expression softens when they make eye contact. “It’s fine, you’re fine.”

“You think you could get me a beer?” She asks, batting her lashes, looking into his eyes. 

“You drink beer?” Armani questions, eyebrow quirking in query. 

Nelly hums with a nod. “I drink beer all the time. When I’m alone at home and…” she trails off, eyeing his hands as they go to get another beer. 

He hands it to her. She grabs it, her fingers brushing against his as they make eye contact. “And when I need something to keep me company.”

Armani gulps, gaze shifting between her lips and eyes. He licks his lips as he watches her open the can. With a pop, the lid comes apart. “Could you keep me company?”

Long story short, Armani is a pitifully predictable and easily persuaded man. If you dangle a pretty girl in his face, he’ll jump in a second like a rabbit to a carrot. Because it doesn’t take much for Nelly’s arms to be resting loosely on Armani’s shoulders, with his big arms holding her up on the counter, tongue interlacing with hers. His hands move up her skirt, his thick fingers quickly finding the hem of her panties. He maneuvers his way into them, pulling them down with ease—as if he’s had a ton of practice with escapades like this already. She knows he has. He gets around. Everyone knows that. It’s just who Armani is. Nelly sometimes feels bad for Hailey, but being on top comes with a price, she thinks. And yeah, people can judge all they want but at the end of the day they’d kill to have as much influence as Hailey does. 

Nelly moves her feet to his shorts, dragging them down in a much more ragged fashion than she expected. Still, she pulls him closer with the strength of her legs, feeling his warmth from the summer heat radiating onto her. Her hair is stuck to her forehead in a sweaty strewn out clump. She’s sure it’s much hotter now than it was once she first got there—maybe the temperature just rose? 

She feels all of him inside of her, something she’s not so sure she’s accustomed to now that it’s actually happening. She forgets her experience with this type of thing is much more limited compared to his. And she’s not entirely accustomed to how fast or rough he’s being with her either. She wonders if he’s like this with Hailey, too. 

He flips her over, turning her around to face the mirror. He holds onto her tightly. She looks into the mirror and stares so intently at her reflection her image begins to shatter. She watches him from behind her and then gazes at her face once more. She doesn’t feel like herself anymore. She grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls it back, making it look shorter than its usual breast length. She feels like Hailey. She’s in Hailey’s bathroom—well, her vacation house’s bathroom—staring into Hailey’s mirror, and fucking Hailey’s boyfriend. She supposed if she cut her hair she could even look like Hailey. But of course, she’d have to get rid of her blonde hair but that would take away from looking like a Lee. 

Nelly feels like Hailey and she’s a little scared at how powerful that makes her feel. She smiles at herself in the mirror. 

“Armani!” Hailey’s animated voice cuts through the air and at that second, both of their blood runs cold. They freeze up, Armani’s hand raising to cover Nelly’s mouth on instinct. “Armani, babe!”

Her footsteps grow louder near the door, passing it and then passing it again. “Where is he?” She ponders, presumably to no one but herself. However, she still is met with an unsure answer muffled by the door, though Nelly assumes it’s from Briar. 

That’s when her footsteps come to a halt and a shadow is casted underneath the door. Armani’s eyes widen as she comes closer. A firm knock is planted on the door, followed by Hailey’s inquisitive voice. “Armani!”

A beat of silence passes. Nelly and Armani exchange uncertain looks before Armani lets go of her, stepping back with footsteps as gentle as he possibly could let them be. He nervously swallows, pulling his shorts up and facing the door.

“Uh, yeah, Hailey?” He finally responds. 

“Oh, I was looking for you!” She chirps. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come with us to get some more drinks. Tana forgot to bring the wine for the night.”

“Um, no, babe, I’m—I’m fine!” He calls back. Suddenly, a thought pops into Nelly’s mind. She takes her pointer finger and pokes at a bottle on the side of the sink, causing it to fall over and onto the floor with a thud. Armani looks at her with incredulity ridden in his eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re okay in there? You’ve been in there for a while now. You didn’t even bring the beers, I guess the runs got you down today,” Hailey jokes. 

A decorative succulent is next to take a tumble by Nelly’s hand. Then, a shampoo bottle, and then a candle. 

“Okay, you better not be breaking anything in there,” Hailey takes a more concerned tone. She doesn’t play about the tidiness of her area. The shorter girl falls silent for a moment, looking around. Concentrated, her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek, and then something dons on her. 

“Hey, babe, where’s Nelly?” She asks, voice piquing with nearly fraudulent curiosity; fraudulent in the sense that she feels something is off. 

“Uh, she should be out there with you girls, right?” Armani conjures up. 

Hailey lets out a knowing chuckle, rolling her eyes. “Open this fucking door, now, Armani Yoon or so help me God I will tear this bitch off of its hinges.” 

Everyone gets quiet, but not a second later does the door unlock, the lock popping so loud amongst the silent house. Hailey pulls open the door with a vengeance letting it swing, revealing the two of them, Armani’s eyes wide with fear and Nelly sporting a foolishly feeble smirk. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hailey roars, so angrily that everyone in the house can hear the ferocious growl in her voice. “You’ve done some fucked up things but this? This has to be the lowest of all. It had to be with her?”

“Hailey, look—” Armani’s excuse is interrupted. 

“I don’t want to fucking hear it and… and you,” she looks at Nelly with the most nasty look she’s probably given to anyone ever. And that’s saying a lot. 

“You dirty little skank. I invite you to my house and you fuck my boyfriend? Do you know that people like you would’ve been cleaning my house not sitting on the couches,” she curses. “You miserable little bitch, you will never be the real thing.”

“Hailey, it’s not what it looks like.” Nelly’s voice is grating to Hailey’s ears. 

“So, what? You’re not giving my boyfriend a blowjob and trying to embarrass me in front of everyone?” Her hands are fidgeting, trying to decide whether to keep them at her sides or to drag the younger girl by her damaged, brittle, dyed blonde hair. “I can see why your mom hid you, why she left you with your dad.”

“Hailey,” Mickey and Armani scold simultaneously. 

Nelly’s smug expression is quickly wiped from her face, hearing the words Hailey just uttered. “You know that’s not fair.”

“And this is?” 

“I don’t give a rats ass what’s fair, get the fuck out of my house, and you, get the fuck out of my life,” Hailey says, pointing to Armani at the last half of her sentence. 

She steps closer to the girl, staring her down like an animal watching its prey. With a shove at nearly every word, she says: “You’re a slut with nothing to live for. You’re a nobody. And as long as you stay around I will make your life a living hell and I will not rest until you’re left with less than you started with.”

Nelly bitterly chuckles, brushing past her shoulder. She grabs her things to leave, heading for the door but she turns around one last time, facing Hailey and all the people watching like an audience: “You know, it’s lonely at the top.”

#ℐׅ 핑크 ─ WRITING 𝆬 ֪ ࣪ ᰍ #ℐׅ 핑크 ─ NELLY 𝆬 ֪ ࣪ ᰍ #ficnetfairy #fake idol group #fake idol oc #fake kpop addition #fake kpop band #fake kpop company #fake kpop gg #fake kpop girl group #fictional idol community #fake idol community #fictional idol company #fake idol soloist #fake kpop oc #idol oc #idol au #kpop oc #kpop au #idolverse

[monsterfloofs]

🦢💌💐 or 🐉👑💕

Ambrosia (Female Dragonborn) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(I was struggling with drawing a full design of her, so I ended up not including one this round. ^^; ) but I do hope you enjoy the bust drawing! Little me would have been so radiantly proud and excited to have drawn a dragon looking like this!)

You could hear the rain drumming outside the panes of colored glass. Tap, tap, tapping away, as distant thunder tingling your ears with a deep soft rumble.

A soothing sound, as you hugged a pillow to your chest, watching the little flecks of rain make the air waver. The rain made things look dark, a rolling forest of dark trees that slowly become engulfed by fog the further your eyes travel upon the horizon.

A door creaks open, and you slightly turn your head at the sound. A soft rumble, not unlike the thunder, has the hair on the back of your neck prickle.

“Are you alone?”

You turn from your look out, peering up at the robed figure that approaches you. Scales a deep gold, with accents of rubies along her curled horns.

You shrug and smile, “I was, but I don’t mind the company. I was just enjoying the view from your study.”

A snake-like neck smooths forward to follow your gaze to the window.

“It’s has the best view of the mountains when it rains,”

Ambrosia gives a snort, “I see you are a fan of the rain.”

“And. . . you are not?”

Her eyes catch yours before she shakes her head. “Much too cold for me, the rain makes me tire a lot more easily.”

You laugh, taking a gilded paw in your hands, clasping it gently as your fingers run along her knuckles. “Then. . . I’ll have to share one of my favorite things to do when it rains.”

Dark red eyes blink at you curiously, as you move to get up. Her head follows you as you head for the hallway. You playfully glance back at her, a grin splitting your face.

“Are you coming?”

A mountain of pillows and a sea of blankets, you lay with her head in your chest, a thumb gently stroking the scales that guard her cheek.

“You are right,” She hums with deep contentment, “You may have changed my mind about the rain after all.”

You squeak as she pulls you closer to her, both of you disappearing underneath the blankets.

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #sfw #dragon x reader #dragon x human #dragonborn x human #dragonborn x reader

[disgracedvessel]

Celebrations bear the risk of inviting ill omens, according to her grandfather. Those of the Loptr Church do not pay tribute to honor the anniversary of one’s birth. Each day is a victory pried from the remorseless hands of those who wish to extinguish their existence. The very act of living is the start of a revolution.

But exceptions to rules could be made especially when they were set in place by the Archbishop.

-

Prince Julius is one of them. Sara has been told he is special. Being special though has never won her any friends and she hopes this time will be different. It has to be because Grandfather has never gone to such lengths to introduce her to anyone before.

Hands tightly wound around a gift for a boy she has never met, she stands at the edge of the Belhalla’s gardens. Gradually, she acquaints herself with the scenery and voices. Flowers blossom in colors that Sara didn’t even know they could, lining every walkway as far as her eyes could see. It makes her skin crawl in excitement.

The adults leave their children unsupervised for the most part, busying themselves with food and conversation. None of the children her age have much interesting to say. With the exception of one or two, they are unlearned in magic while those who have begun their studies have little to show for it aside from a few sparks.

However, it does surprise Sara to discover that Grandfather had not mentioned Princess Julia with silvery hair so similar to her own. One by one gifts are offered up to the royal children and she realizes that she was not given a second present for some reason.

Only when the boy with cherry red hair is finally alone does she approach him. Earlier, it had been difficult to get a proper look at him due to the crowd of small bodies surrounding the two twins.

A silence overcomes her, confusion writ across her face as if she cannot identify something.

"You're so ordinary," Sara voices in disbelief as soon as the thought occurs. "You're Prince Julius?"

Ordinary.

It sounded coarse and ugly, like a shattered window and the whistle of the invading wind. Julius had been called many things in his few years - special, beautiful, talented, a scion from birth, a long-awaited messiah - but never ordinary. He stares with the faintest wrinkle in the otherwise smooth skin between his eyebrows as if he’s never even heard the word before. The one who had uttered it looks like his sister, so he can’t call her ugly too, but he doesn’t recall having seen her face around the castle before, and for a fleeting moment they each try to figure the other out.

“You must not understand what that word means,” he settles on a reasonable explanation, and he smiles radiantly, eager to help, eager to show off. He is, as his tutors have told him time and again, quite bright. A reader by the age of five.

“Ordinary is the opposite of what I am,” he says with the guileless arrogance of children, the kind yet to grow thorns. “The whole country wouldn’t bring me gifts on my birthday if I was ordinary. Didn’t you bring me something, too?”

He reaches out his hand, still smiling, his eyes sparkling. "Usually they're left in the parlor, but if you wanted to give this one to me in private, then I won't tell. Then I'll send you along to my sister."

Most who found him were looking for her. She could be so terribly elusive.

#shadoll #// when I saw the setting you picked for this ask this morning I was so excited to reply #// if you want to do a few more back and forths for this exchange I don't mind #// I haven't had much reason to think of what julius was like pre possession #// but I think he was definitely less insufferable and mean #// charming in the right light #// though also subconsciously feeling like he was put in a box away from everyone else

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Glenda Farrell (We're in the Money, The Mystery of the Wax Museum, I've Got Your Number)— Susan Slept Here is a terrible no good very bad movie but somehow she gets even hotter as she ages

Dolores del Rio (Flying Down to Rio, Flor silvestre)—to begin with, dolores is so RADIANTLY BEAUTIFUL, even more so in action then in images, its like she emits a literal glow. marlene dietrich (a close friend and rumored lover) considered her "the most beautiful woman who ever set foot in hollywood". she was the first mexican actress to become a major success in hollywood, rising to fame in the silent era and becoming an influential icon of beauty and glamor in the art deco age, though she was not thrilled with the exoticizing parts often pushed on her. in the mid 1940s having tired of the controlling hollywood studio system she returned to mexico, saying "I wish to choose my own stories, my own director and cameraman. I can accomplish this better in mexico", and proceeded to become a pivotal figure in the golden age of mexican cinema, making a string of masterpieces with directir emilio fernández and cinematographer gabriel figueroa. i love this anecdote about the insane art deco mansion she and her then-husband cedric gibbons lived in in the 30s, as related by david niven: "Dolores had a large sunny room on the first floor containing a huge and inviting bed. Gibbons lived in comparative squalor in a small room immediately below. The only connection between these rooms was by way of a stepladder, which could be lowered only when a trapdoor in the floor of Dolores room had been raised. There was a long stick with which, we conjectured, he signaled his intention or hopes by rapping out signals on the floor of his wife’s bedchamber." heres a pinterest album with a billion hot pictures of her

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Dolores del Rio:

There's so much! She started in Silent films and successfully transitioned to sound, She is the first woman to wear a two piece swimsuit on screen & popularized the bikini!, She transitioned back to Mexican Cinema in the late 1940s and was a leading lady of the Golden Age of Mexican Cinema including staring in Maria Candelaria--the first Mexican film to win the palm d'Or at Cannes. She was literally studied for her beauty & was considered a beauty ideal in both the USA & Mexico--there's a whole section on her Wikipedia page about how beautiful everyone thinks she was. She never actually had a feud with any of the female stars she was rumored to feud with despite the fact that press & Hollywood culture attempted to pain them in competition... She remained a leader in Mexican theater & Cinema through her own production company. Mexican painter Diego Rivera: "The most beautiful, the most gorgeous of the west, east, north and south. I'm in love with her as 40 million Mexicans and 120 million Americans who can't be wrong" (quote source: Wikipedia)

*fan self* Leading actress in silents and early Hollywood. Lover of Orson Welles until she got fed up with him, friend of Diego Rivera and Frieda Kahlo. When she got tired of Hollywood executives typecasting her as a stereotypical spitfire (and trying to force her to feud with Lupe Velez as a publicity stunt), she ditched Hollywood and became a major star of Mexican cinema, where she got to play rounded characters

Had a career in American cinema in the 20s and 30s and considered one of the most important figures in the Golden Age of Mexican cinema (30s to 50s).

Marlene Dietrich said Dolores was the most beautiful woman to set foot in Hollywood

Joan Crawford: "Dolores became, and remains, as one of the most beautiful stars in the world."

One of the few Latin American women working in the Hollywood industry to make it big not just in hre home country but internationally. In 1931, Photoplay magazine declared that Mexican film actress Dolores del Rio had the "best figure in Hollywood." (which I know not necessarily a good barometer) but! it shows that many people looked at her for her beauty and sought to emulate her. Famous for her years-long love affair with actor and director Orson Welles, who was 10 years her junior if that's anything.

We need more hispanic representation in this!! Del Río is one of the most important actresses of her time as she was one of the first Mexican movie stars to break through to Hollywood! She’s unbelievably sexy and an absolute icon. Thank you :)

#dolores del rio #glenda farrell #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes author's notes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 13/?: Conduit

A treasured day dissolves into yet another moribund nightmare that has him awake for the remainder of the night. Once he’s managed to stop vomiting, he conceives that it was the memory of his brother that did it, or the trip to the memorial stone, or, most likely, both. Either way, he doesn't regret the afternoon into evening spent with Sakura here in the least, even as he scrubs his teeth and tiredly latches onto a cough drop as if his life depends on it to melt the taste out of his mouth.

The lamp works well for his deciphering work, he discovers. More tea helps ease his pounding headache in between bouts of writing, the turpitude of the past slowly easing away much like a high tide recedes from the shoreline, leaving behind bits of broken shells that catch the light of dawn.

Night filters into day as his washing machine completes its wash cycle, and sunlight casts its shine on the cherry blossom tree across the street, radiantly green. He takes one break to peer down at it before laying out his bedding to dry, and then another prior to preparing breakfast, once the appropriate hour has come.

He’s just managed to piece together the word crawl towards the end of the parchment, frowning as he swallows a bite of sencha ochazuke that feels good on his throat, when a raucous banging erupts on his door.

“TEME!” A raspy voice bellows from the landing. “Let’s spar before it gets too hot!”

Sasuke glances at the door, then at his bedding drying on the rack by the closet. He rolls his eyes as he rises to his feet. 

“Give me a minute,” he calls in agreement, eyes lingering on the scroll before he rolls it neatly back up and tucks it away. He then sets what’s left of the bowl of ochazuke in the fridge for later. He neglects to bring his sword this time; the dobe will probably force him to have lunch with him, after, since they both know Sakura’s occupied on Mondays with Ino, and he doesn’t wish to make an extra trip just to drop it off. Simple kunai practice is good from time to time; it keeps him from getting too comfortable using only one weapon.

He does pop a lone cough drop into his mouth prior to leaving. 

It’s blazing outside, but it’s still a solid ten degrees lower than it will be in a few hours, and there’s at least some small semblance of a breeze at their backs. The dobe chatters the entire way to their usual training grounds; apparently Hinata made him try grilled unagi for the first time, and now he’s hooked. 

“We’re thinking of having a grill-out soon! You and Sakura-chan should come over.” Naruto laughs, clapping his hands together as they meander into the clearing. “We could have a fire or somethin’, too.”

“As long as you’re not cooking,” Sasuke agrees, falling into an offensive position and smirking when Naruto squints at him in offense, right eye twitching. His first sweep of his foot, followed by a shove of his knee, sends the dobe skidding across the scant amount of gravel and into the grass. His friend backward somersaults into a standing position, pushing off from the ground into the humid air for a launched aerial assault.

Shadow clones materialize into existence, using the sun’s blinding beams behind them to their advantage, and the onslaught begins.

Another draw eventually emerges in the humid calefaction, kunai clinking in one final stalemate.

Sweat trickles a path down his spine as Sasuke gulps down water, Naruto doing the same a couple of feet away. It feels good on his throat, cooling and mollifying. He should have brought a few more cough drops in his pocket today, considering, but he's assuming he'll get dragged to Ichiraku’s after this anyway. Ramen would feel good, too, though it’s a sweltering day for it.

Sasuke is contemplating whether or not he’ll be assigned a mission this week and a potential trip to the market in the early afternoon when the dobe pipes up.

"Y'know, teme, we should sweeten the pot a little bit.”

Carefully controlled, Sasuke flicks his gaze in his friend’s direction.

The dobe cracks a smile that seems self-satisfied. 

“If you beat me, I'll tell you what happened in Earth."

Sasuke keeps his expression blank and uninterested, studying Naruto’s shit-eating grin, and almost instantly he gathers that there are strings of some kind attached to this offer. 

Still, he would like to know. Logic is often lost on his teammate, but it’s worth a shot.

“...I already beat you once.”

His friend’s grin momentarily morphs into a scowl, blue eyes narrowing.

“We didn’t have an agreement then!” He huffs, sticking out his tongue and folding his arms together.

Sasuke, meanwhile, rolls his eyes, contemplating ahead of his focus flickering back.

"...What's in it for you?"

Naruto's expression eases into something like a sneer.

"Whaddya mean? Do you want an alternative to going drinking or somethin’?” He unfolds his arms and takes another pull from his water in an effort to appear casual, when Sasuke knows he is being anything but. Tch. As if he hasn’t known the idiot long enough to recognize when he’s talking out of his ass. 

“‘...Cause that could be arranged, ya know!" He recites a little too cleanly, as if from memorization.

Suspicions confirmed, Sasuke narrows his eyes, looking off into the tree cover and refusing to take the bait. He’s sure he’ll find out eventually, anyways.

"Wellllllllll. You must not wanna find out what happened, after all. S'too bad, ‘cause Sakura-chan was totally awesome. Guess you'll never know."

Sasuke narrows his eyes further, directly at Naruto now, summoning an expression that will effectively communicate that his patience for this conversation is running thin. A deadlock glare session occurs before Naruto just grins again, which pisses Sasuke off further.

"Y’know…” His raspy voice trails off as he looks at him again in a way Sasuke doesn’t like. 

“...Kakashi-sensei and I are just dying to know what you got Sakura-chan for her birthday. Since you came back the end of March and all."

Sasuke’s eye twitches, a trickle of deeper annoyance siphoning into the corners of his consciousness on someone else’s behalf.

Nosy, indeed. 

"...You're both stupid." Albeit his increasing requiescence around Sakura, Sasuke plainly doesn’t care for the notion of directly vocalizing his feelings to others, which is exactly what explaining said gift would entail. It would make him feel inordinately exposed, he thinks, even to his best friend and teammate. Furthermore, Kakashi doesn’t need to know everything about him. The copy ninja can wonder about it indefinitely for all he cares.

The words don’t have their intended effect; instead, Naruto’s entire face lights up, and though outwardly he betrays nothing, inwardly, Sasuke groans. He’s waltzed right into a trap, giving the idiot some sort of confirmation through his few words that Sakura apparently has not.

“Aha! So you DID give her something!! What is it, what is it?!” The idiot starts shaking his good shoulder, fingers seizing brutally around a nasty splotch of a fresh bruise that encompasses almost the entire curvature of the muscle. “Jewelry? Kakashi-sensei thinks jewelry, but we haven't seen any on her. Flowers, maybe?! Girls love stuff like that!” Sasuke’s brows knit ever closer as his frown sinks deeper, completely unenthused. 

“None of your business, usuratonkachi.” He shoves Naruto away rather forcefully, because A, it actually hurts with the huge expanse of fresh bruise he's gripping onto, and B, the idiot is violating his most cardinal rule with nearly everyone in his life: personal space. He summons his most menacing glare that icily communicates drop it.

“Temeeee,” he laments, folding his arms together and pouting much like he used to when he was a child. “C’mon!! I’ve been bugging Sakura-chan for WEEKS and she hasn’t given an inch. She’s worse than Granny Tsunade when she wants to be.”

A strong surge of appreciation courses through him at Sakura’s consideration for their privacy, the dobe’s apparent pestering of her taking on new meaning. He wouldn’t mind necessarily if she told people about the gift eventually - it’s hers to do whatever she likes with, after all - but for the time being, he’s enjoying what’s between them as it is, the quietude of it. Other people knowing what’s in his heart to that degree would be wholly exorbitant as of yet, uprooting the framework of the small pocket of calm that is his slowness to adjust.

The feeling is shortly followed by Sasuke recalling teasing words spoken in Sakura’s kitchen. 

It’s fun to mess with him.

“...Sounds like your interrogation skills aren’t befitting that of a Hokage,” he drawls slowly, schooling his expression into blank facedness. He briefly considers tacking on some kind of jibe about rank, but decides against it since it could be turned back around on him just as easily.

The idiot surprises him by grabbing for his ear, clearly intending to pull it. Sasuke shoves him off with enough force to send him sprawling a few feet away instead, rising to his feet with a glower.

“You’re no fun!!” Naruto gripes, grumbling as he brushes more dirt off himself before trying to attack Sasuke again. Sasuke sidesteps the fist easily; Naruto’s movements are sloppy as they usually are when he’s whining about something, all bark but no sharpened bite to back it up. He shoves his left foot to sweep both the idiot’s feet out from under him. 

Once the dobe is sprawled out facedown on the ground and grumbling again, Sasuke gathers his things and begins to amble out of the training grounds, using Naruto’s back as the first stepping stone and inordinately pleased with himself for navigating his way effectively out of this conversation.

Naruto stays pouting behind him until Sasuke’s several yards away, so he pauses by the entrance.

“...Are we getting Ichiraku’s or not?”

He doesn’t stop to look behind him to see if the idiot’s coming; the scrambling sound of small rocks scraping against sandals at his back is confirmation enough.

They walk briskly once he’s caught up to him, making their way through hot streets just on the cusp of Konoha noon. They seem generally a little less busy than they usually are; he assumes it’s due to the heat. Trickles of sweat sear their way down his shoulder blades as Naruto whines exasperatedly.

“It’s hot,” he complains, picking at the collar of his shirt as if that’s going to help.

Sasuke nods in assent absentmindedly just so he’ll shut up as they turn the corner to the main stretch of restaurants, Ichiraku’s only a short jaunt away. There’s a sea of food smells attacking his olfactory senses now, and he’s actually worked up a decent appetite, considering his previous nighttime ordeal.

He’s mentally trying to deduce what dish at Ichiraku’s contains the highest number of calories when he blinks in surprise. 

Sakura and Ino have materialized down the road, too far away yet to greet; they must have just finished up with their weekly training. 

Sasuke then briefly curses his good eyesight. 

Sakura is wearing the outfit from the picture when she made Jonin, the one that bares her midriff, covered only by a thin layer of netting. Even from a league away, he’s immediately hyperconscious of it: the way the red fabric drapes over her shoulders, curves across her chest, stopping just at her ribs, and the flipped V shape framing her sternum, extending far enough upwards that a minute portion of her breast bindings show. The transparent portion of the material below the top covers her stomach like a second skin, slender waist sloping gracefully into gently curved hips and skirt stopping right above the middle of creamy thighs.

“SAKURA-CHAN!” Naruto bellows in greeting after Sasuke’s lost in the way the lineament of her thighs slides effortlessly down into feminine legs for a little too long. For once he’s appreciative of Naruto’s general lack of respect for the eardrums of anyone in their immediate vicinity. “AND INO!”

Green eyes perk up and meet Naruto’s with recognition, then his, smile forming on her lips.

Then she’s turning to Ino with a look that screams she’s out for blood.

Sakura yanks something from her ear - an earpiece, he thinks - with one hand as she shoves Ino. It’s not enough of a shove to hurt anyone nearby, but Sasuke thinks she still may not quite know her own strength at the distance it divides them. 

Ino appears unaffected, stumbling slightly only to let loose what can best be described as a cackle, resonating through the intersection in all directions.

“...Never not going to be funny!” Sasuke barely catches the tail end of whatever Ino is wheezing between laughs as Sakura glares her down. Sasuke wonders if Sakura needs to apply more sunscreen - her skin is kind of flushed - as he and Naruto close the gap between themselves and the two. Carefully training his eyes on her face only, he notices now that he’s closer and not as distracted by what she’s wearing that part of her hair is pulled into a braid, arching from the left side of her crown to the right before it blends into the rest of her pink strands. Three small yellow flowers are interwoven into the plait. It suits her, in an innocent sort of way.

As Ino straightens to her full height, clutching her stomach in laughter, Sasuke notices now that her hair is braided, too, miniscule blue flowers interwoven into her own plait, though hers is braided entirely back rather than just a section of it.

Sasuke thinks both hairstyles are somewhat reminiscent of the ones from the festival picture hanging on Sakura’s wall. He recalls clipped flower stems adorning Sakura’s front step, and possibly also from her balcony as he doesn’t recognize these ones. It’s an interesting thing to do with them, to be sure.

“You’re impossible,” Sakura mutters darkly, left eye twitching and purposefully yanking Ino’s hand up rather unceremoniously to press her fingers around the earpiece. They must have been listening to the same thing; perhaps Ino abruptly upped the volume and rattled her eardrum.

“Er, hi, Sakura-chan, Ino!” Naruto greets, voice dripping slightly with confusion at the scene before them, though still overly enthusiastic as always.

“Hey, Naruto,” Sakura responds, still glaring at Ino, though the animosity has mostly dissolved by now. Her expression clears fully prior to turning, briefly making eye contact with Sasuke. “Sasuke-kun.”

“...Sakura.” His gaze flickers to her companion, and he adds politely, “Ino.” 

“Didja just get done with training?” Naruto questions with way too much enthusiasm, stepping closer to the women as Ino brushes herself off. “Me and teme did, too! Bet ya won!"

Sakura’s gaze flits back to Naruto. “Eh. More or less,” she says, smiling now. He's not sure if she's referring to finishing training or whether she was victorious.

“She always does,” Ino sighs, rolling her eyes. “It’s exhausting to have to come up with new tricks all the time.”

Sasuke’s interest is further piqued - there’s an implication there, of new jutsu perhaps - but Naruto charges on, tactless as ever.

“We were just headed to Ichiraku’s, Sakura-chan! You guys should come with us!” Sometimes Naruto really does seem to have the discernment of a child, Sasuke thinks. They probably had plans that didn’t involve a loud-mouthed idiot or ramen on a ninety-five plus degree day.

“Ugh,” Ino complains, examining her cuticles now as if she’s bored, and Sasuke remembers that while Naruto lacks awareness for many social cues, Ino comparatively simply has never cared about them, unerringly blunt and the antithesis of social decorum. “Do we have to? Ramen is too hot for a day like today.”

Naruto looks bewildered, as if it’s the most shocking statement one could make. “Whaddya mean?! Ramen’s great anytime! Besides, other food is served hot, too, so I’m not sure what the big deal is.”

“It’s soup,” Ino intones, shooting Naruto a look that screams unimpressed.

“They’ll have ramune to drink now that it’s summer, at least?” Sakura tries adding helpfully. Ino sighs in a way that seems resigned. 

“I guess. Whatever,” she says flippantly, though it’s without any actual ill will. Ino turns on her heel, taking the earpiece out of her own ear and depositing the completed pair into a duffel bag hanging crossbody on her back.

Naruto cheers and Sasuke blinks, because this overall exchange occurred in only a minute, and he guesses he’s having lunch with his team and Ino now. He still hasn’t been around her for any extended period of time since returning to the village. It won’t be a boring lunch by any means, he supposes.

Sakura shoots him a smile and a shrug before she turns to follow behind the two blondes, leading the way in the general direction of the ramen restaurant.

He very quickly perceives that her outfit from behind is just as distracting as it was from the front, gaze locking briefly on the small of her back and beyond. It doesn’t leave much to his imagination, overactive as it is regarding her, so he makes an effort to take larger strides until he’s walking beside Sakura than trailing after her.

It’s a short walk to Ichiraku’s. Ino kicks her duffel bag beneath the counter nearest the end stool as if she owns the place, turning to Sakura. “Be right back. Order me a ramune? Raspberry.”

Sakura nods. “Sure. Food?”

“Eh, surprise me.”

Sakura dips her chin once again, taking the seat next to where Ino’s placed her things as the blonde woman scampers around the corner. Naruto takes his own seat on the other end of the group, so Sasuke takes the one between Sakura and the dobe. It takes a minute to put in their orders, as the restaurant is somewhat busy, moreso than Sasuke would have expected given the weather and the general traffic on the way here. As they wait for their drinks, Sakura drums her fingers slightly atop the shiny counters, not loud enough to make noise but enough that the motion garners his attention.

He recalls those fingers against the nape of his neck the night previous before looking away. 

“So, Sakura-chan! How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” Naruto asks good-naturedly as Teuchi’s daughter slides their drinks in front of them, icy cold judging from the condensation; mango ramune for the dobe, water for Sasuke, plum ramune for Sakura, and Ino’s requested raspberry ramune. The dobe downs a solid third of his bottle, making an exaggerated, “Ahhh,” and finishing his thought. “Hinata-chan made me try grilled unagi, and that shit is good.”

Verdant eyes, apple green in the sunlight, flick to Sasuke between them before she returns her gaze to her own bottle. 

“I had oyakodon,” she says, skin slightly flushed and lips pursed as if she’s trying to bite back a smile. Something turns over in his chest and burgeons into his throat, soothing the ache there.

“Eh? Was it any good?” The dobe is studying her curiously, as if he’s able to read the subtext of her body language enough to know she’s not strictly referring to food, but not enough to actually gain any intel on what’s in the undercurrent of her words.

Sakura takes a long draw on her drink.

“Probably the best I’ve ever tried,” she murmurs softly as Sasuke’s neck warms in a way that has nothing to do with the sun above them. 

The idiot’s brow creases further as if he’s now more confused. 

“I’m confused,” he echoes Sasuke’s observation of him rather loudly, expression perplexed and looking from Sakura to Sasuke. “Is that, like, code for something?” Their teammate squints at them suspiciously.

Sakura’s blinking and one pink eyebrow is arching as Ino’s voice returns from the direction she left in.

“Code for what?” She asks smoothly, sliding into her saved seat with a glass in hand.

Sasuke’s brow furrows as they all turn the other way, examining the glass in her hand because it looks very much like a hefty shot of alcohol, and it vaguely smells like it, too. 

Ino takes a long drag on her own ramune as Naruto answers.

“‘Having oyakodon’. Is that like a code girls use or something? Hinata-chan has never said anything like that.” Naruto scratches his chin, and Sasuke thinks drolly that all five of his brain cells must be operating at their maximum speed.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s code for magic mountain,” Ino responds without missing a beat, now taking the shot and pouring it into the bottle in front of her.

“Ino,” Sakura seethes suddenly as the blonde covers the mouth of her drink to shake its contents together, though Sasuke gets the sense that the warning has nothing to do with her casual consumption of alcohol. He wonders what magic mountain means; perhaps it’s referring to a location in Konoha, though it could also just be Ino messing with Naruto.

“What’s magic moun-” The idiot’s mouth falls open. “Hey, wait, is that a shot?!” 

Ino Yamanaka’s immediate answer is another sip of her drink. She swallows, setting it in front of her before speaking. 

“Uh, yeah? A double, actually.” She flicks her wrist in the general direction of the small, now empty glass the liquid came in. “What else comes in a glass like this, genius?”

Sakura exhales in what sounds akin to relief, barely perceptible if Sasuke wasn’t hyper aware of everything she does, as Ino looks at Naruto as if to dare him to speak.

The idiot scratches his head. “Uh. Not to be judge-y or anything, but uh. Why are you drinking at this hour?”

Ino snorts.

“Because I'm gonna need it to deal with your pompous father-in-law for the next hour and a half. He already says I live in sin; I might as well be buzzed to boot." She lifts her bottle again in a mock cheer. "But hey! Cheers to the ancient and decrepit. May we all be their peasants until they pass the torch to those more capable.”

Sasuke blinks, vaguely remembering an early childhood a lifetime ago. His father customarily had a grim set to his jaw on a day-to-day basis, but Sasuke recalls it was especially true on Mondays; he always made sure not to speak unless spoken to, those days. The actual full council with the elders met around once a month, if he’s recalling correctly, but the clans met weekly. On those days, his father was even more taciturn than usual. That makes sense, in hindsight, though he makes an effort not to dwell on it.

He hasn't thought about the council in a long time; not since about a year into his journey, now that he's reflecting on it. He hopes that's growth.

The customary weekly meetings of the clans of Konoha must still be scheduled every Monday like clockwork. Hiashi Hyuga would be the oldest clan head in the village now, he supposes, though he has to be getting up there in years. He must be of a similar age to what his own father would be now, with two daughters roughly around Sasuke’s age. It would make the man a little over fifty years, if his estimates are correct.

He’s never met Hiashi Hyuga, but none of what he’d heard in the past speaks to any sort of pleasantness; he finds himself recalling his return, when Naruto mentioned Hinata was no longer the heiress to the Hyuga Clan and was not the least bit upset about it. 

The manner in which Ino spoke is pretty scathing to say in a public place, though. The Hyuga are likely the largest clan in Konoha now, though no one in their immediate vicinity seems to care. Perhaps this Konoha is slightly different from the past Konoha, after all, if Ino can be so insouciant in public without fearing any kind of repercussions from those in power.

He notes as his thoughts drift that both Sakura and Naruto spend a long second looking at Ino as if assessing her, then glance at each other with something comparable to affirmation before small smiles erupt on both of their faces. They return their attention back to their drinks, apparently unbothered, as if Ino speaks like this all the time.

Odd, Sasuke thinks, taking another sip of his own water and chalking it up to just being a part of her personality.

Naruto waves his free hand rapidly as if remembering something mid-swallow, then sets his drink down.

“Wait, so what’s magic mountain mean? Is that like another code for something?”

The set of Sakura’s shoulders changes completely, stiffening and straightening.

“I didn’t mean anything in code; I was talking about actual oyakodon. Ino’s just messing with you-”

“Great question,” Ino declares simultaneously with a fiendish gleam in her eye. She sets her drink down on the counter and begins making gestures with her hands to illustrate her words.

“So you stack your pillows high, right? Like three or four on top of each other. Then the woman lays stomach-down across it, arches her back-”

“Stop. Talking.” Sakura slaps Ino’s hands down just after she begins to use her free one to apparently show the man’s role in this… instance. Sasuke carefully averts his eyes, noting Naruto is aghast on his other side, mouth hanging open in disbelief that she really just did that in a crowded restaurant.

“Geez, it’s from a book, Sakura. I thought you loved those, yet you never take any of my recommendations seriously!” 

“I do take them seriously; I just would prefer not to have x-rated conversations over lunch in public.”

“Have you forgotten that it’s basically my job to be outrageous?” Ino winks before her expression turns miffed again. “And anyways, that implies that there’s a time that you are open to having these conversations, and yet you won’t tell me a single juicy tidbit-”

"Maybe it's because I don't want private matters to be broadcast to the entire village-"

“I’ve gotta convince Hinata-chan to stop hanging out with you guys,” Naruto whines from his other side, finally closing his mouth. Sasuke busies himself with reading all of the flavors of ramune available off the overhead banner and sparing a second moment of appreciation today for Sakura’s care for their privacy. “You’re gonna corrupt her!”

Banana, blueberry, bubblegum, cherry, grape, green apple-

“Ino’s going to corrupt her,” Sakura agrees.

Lychee, mango, orange, peach, plum, raspberry-

“Yeah, yeah, every woman in Konoha is a traditional and demure little flower who only has sex in the missionary position. Give me a break. Variety is the spice of life, losers.” He sees Ino take a long sip from her glass from his peripheral vision. “This is why I love when Karui and Temari are in town. They actually give me something of substance to work with; international politics. I have so much dirt now, you don’t even know.” She looks to Sakura as Sasuke tries to work out what that statement means. “Though Choji and Karui are getting so gross. Did I tell you she’s thinking of moving here? Love makes people weird."

Strawberry, vanilla, watermelon, yuzu.

“I didn’t know that. Are they that serious?” Naruto interjects from the other end of the counter as Sasuke returns his focus to the conversation now that it is apparently centered around a topic that’s relatively normal. Though he isn’t really participating in the dialogue, he can’t deny he’s a little curious. He still doesn’t know who Karui is, and he didn’t realize Ino even knew who the sand delegate was, other than in passing from the Chunin Exams forever ago. 

“Mm-hmm,” Ino says flippantly. “He’s a fool for her. And her cooking. Probably mostly her cooking. They love their spices in Kumo. Suna, too; they both have better food than here. As I said: variety.” She gives a low whistle. “The Akimichis to come are gonna be gorgeous, though, if they have her for a mom.”

So she’s from Kumogakure.

“And prone to black eyes if they cross her,” the dobe says somewhat fearfully. “Her right hook is almost as nasty as yours, Sakura-chan!”

Ino raises an eyebrow as Sasuke tells himself inwardly that he shouldn’t be surprised that Naruto knows her, whoever she is; he knows everyone. 

“No one’s right hook comes anywhere near Forehead’s,” Ino proclaims emphatically. “Nor their left. What are you even talking about? When has she punched you?”

Naruto doesn’t answer, and Sakura simply sips her drink. They both look exasperated and simultaneously pensive for some reason.

“Well, you probably deserved it, anyways,” Ino says, apparently sensing a need for a slight change of subject. It bewilders him when the blonde turns her attention to him. “How are you, Sasuke? Choji still won’t shut up about how fast you can skin a duck one-handed, and Shika says your guys' missions have been going well.” She waves her hand flippantly before adding, “And Sai, obviously.”

Sasuke blinks slowly, a little surprised to have apparently been mentioned in conversations that don’t have anything to do with Naruto or Sakura. Naruto grumbles on his other side, mumbling something about a stupid copy ninja; it seems he’s still miffed that Kakashi hasn’t given Team Seven a mission together yet.

“...They have,” he responds honestly after some thought. 

“Hm,” Ino comments prior to taking another sip of her drink; she’s nearly drunk her way through half the bottle now. “How about things with Sakura? Also going well?”

Sakura shoots Ino a warning glance.

More than well, he thinks.

“...Yes,” he answers. It’s an understatement. 

Ino frowns, brows knitting together as if she was hoping to get more out of him than that. He barely has time to note the flush on Sakura’s cheeks before Naruto snickers on his other side.

“You’re never gonna get anything out of teme,” the dobe laughs. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“A brick wall that hogs my best friend,” Ino complains, though her eyes sparkle in Sakura’s direction as she says it and she doesn’t look a bit put off by it. "If I wasn't disgustingly happy for you both, you'd get an earful from me, Sasuke."

Sasuke doesn’t really know how to respond to that - Sakura’s words maybe I like being hogged come to mind - and he’s thankful when their food arrives so he doesn’t have to. He takes a first bite, savoring the feeling of the warm broth on his sore throat.

“Joy,” Ino says, attention redirected to what appears to be gochujang ramen with tofu.

“It’s what Sai always gets,” Sakura explains, twirling noodles around her own chopsticks. “It’s not bad. I’ve had it a couple times.”

The blonde shrugs, then goes about taking a first bite.

“Eh. You’re right,” she comments after she swallows. “Not bad, I guess. He is a nut for tofu.”

Sakura smiles through a bite as Naruto echoes the thought on his other side.

“Yeah, he’s fuckin’ weird about it. Once he brought Kakashi-sensei and I this caramelized pineapple thing with tofu at the Hokage’s Office for lunch. Weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten!”

I doubt that, Sasuke thinks, reaching for his water again and mulling that Naruto is the absolute last person on earth who should be critical of someone else being overly fixated on a specific food item.

“You don’t get to talk about weird food,” Sakura admonishes him from his other side. “You made me try strawberry ramen once.”

Sasuke snorts.

“Strawberry?” Ino asks while wrinkling her nose, clearly appalled as she leans forward to peer at Naruto from two seats down. “What’s wrong with you?”

The dobe frowns. “I thought it would be good!”

“Tell me you didn’t put garlic in it still.” When Naruto doesn’t respond, Ino’s disapproval becomes more palpable. “Or egg.”

Sakura merely shudders slightly before shaking her head, and Ino makes a show of gagging as Naruto pouts.

“Didn’t you just say variety is the spice of life or something?!” He tries to defend, but Ino’s not having it.

“Variety and being completely unhinged are two separate things. And trust me, I would know!”  

The dobe grumbles a bit more as Sasuke thinks to himself that it’s a good thing that, from what he’s been able to gather, the idiot has Hinata cooking for him the majority of the time. 

The sun beats down from overhead as Sakura, Naruto, and Ino proceed to visit back and forth for a bit as Sasuke eats and continues to listen. Ino seems unchanged by the alcohol; she must have a fairly high tolerance, which doesn’t surprise him. The conversation begins to center mostly around work towards the end of the hour. Ino is as loquacious as she’s ever been, and makes a point of asking Naruto about things going on at the Hokage’s Office, decisions on where the next expansions of Konoha’s boundaries will be happening and his opinion on dual citizenship; he assumes that has to do with Choji and the woman from Kumo. That does surprise him a little, because the way she asks him, despite her previous jibes and outspokenness, is fully respectful and laden with the implication that she completely trusts Naruto to be helping Kakashi with these sorts of things. Naruto really has earned everyone’s respect.

“Well,” the blonde says after finishing the last of her own food and reaching for the duffel bag beneath the counter, “I suppose I’d better go shower before this meeting, lest I give Hyuga-sama the ammo to take impeccable grooming off my list of pros.” The way she says Hyuga-sama is dripping with sarcasm; it’s incredibly clear she must loathe him. 

Naruto snorts on his other side, and it’s not the reaction Sasuke expected, given it’s the dobe’s father-in-law, so Sasuke looks to him with furrowed brows.

Maybe not everyone. 

“It was nice to see you, Sasuke,” Ino is saying, and he blinks in mystification, turning back to his right where Ino is scooting off her seat on Sakura’s other side. “You’re as chatty as ever. Quit being a stranger, yeah? We’ll have to drag you along to go swimming with all of us sometime this summer or something.” She neatly polishes off the very last of her drink prior to sliding the empty bottle across the counter. “You, too, Naruto. And Hinata, obviously.”

Sakura looks amused. “You just want more people to beat in the tournament.”

Tournament?

Ino smirks in response, punching Sakura’s shoulder lightly as she admonishes, “Shut up, Forehead. We have a title to uphold, remember?” 

Naruto groans for some reason. Sparing him a glance, Sakura rolls her eyes before grinning and rotating back towards Ino to punch her in return.

"Give 'em hell,” Sakura murmurs simply, voice nothing but encouraging.

Ino responds by flipping her hair behind her with the same self-assurance she’s always had. 

"You know I always do."

Sakura watches Ino with something that looks an awful lot like pride as she disappears down the street. She then returns her attention to her own nearly finished food, shifting atop her stool slightly to cross her legs.

Sasuke promptly realizes that the change in position, coupled with the length of her shorts, puts the freckle on the interior portion of her upper right thigh within plain sight. 

He manages to redirect his gaze away, but only after staring at it for a good three seconds.

XXX

The lily plants are small, still, but growing steadily. He tips lukewarm water over top of each of them with care before continuing his walk home from Sakura’s. 

He’s not quite tired just yet, so he retrieves the remains of his breakfast from the fridge and sets to ending his day the same way it began: eating amidst his notes and pen, piecing out more parts of the scroll by lamplight.

Keys to ciphers, he knows, can often be puzzled out by focusing on apparent groupings of phrases. It’s easy enough to piece together word patterns when you try to separate the onslaught of characters and letters into phrases that seem more akin to the rhythm of common vernacular. Messages in code tend to be shortened slightly, intended to further obfuscate the message, but he’s been stuck on which vowel is which for a while. Other than As and Is easily clued by the shortest words in the selection, the remaining vowels can be difficult to place.

The last phrase in this particular scroll is strange in that it appears to end in some sort of I am statement, followed by a lengthy word. He’s managed a partial translation, he thinks, but it’s still not coming to him: “bjjsccgle” in accordance with what he’s managed thus far is “allsccgle”, but he’s not sure what word would fit. Perhaps he should try to find a dictionary and page through its contents to see if anything comes up. The rest of the message appears to have perfect grammar, so he has no reason to think it’s a misspelling; the style in which the text is written also contributes to that mode of operation, meticulously neat with not a single smudge.

He sighs deeply as he rises to make another round of ochazuke with decaffeinated sencha. If he’s destined to consume words until they become mindless, he might as well eat mindlessly, too. Perhaps tonight he’ll be able to keep it down, should he not be revisited by memories in the forms of nightmares, his brother poking his forehead with two bloody fingers before he coughs up rivers of red and collapses, over and over and over.

It’s macerating, to hear someone take their last breath and choke on it like that. The aftermath of it was somehow worse, though, the sickening crunch of skull hitting the concrete, then the crag of ground at his feet. Sasuke doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to smother the sound of it, nor will he forget the way his brother smiled at him. 

He grits his teeth until he thinks his canines must be ground to dull planes, boiling water even as his vision blurs, because he’s trying to be better.

As he cooks and thinks a mile a minute in his quest for distraction, he latches onto the idea of asking Sakura to have tea again at the shop this Thursday, if he doesn’t have a mission by then. He’s running low on the decaffeinated version especially, with as often as he’s been having it in the evenings while he pores over the scroll.

While he forces his mind to focus on something good - the freckle on Sakura’s thigh, or her fingers at the nape of his neck, threading through his hair - he twists the top of the rice bag into a more or less closed position and stops short.

H-E-B, the logo states at the top of it.

His brow furrows as he freezes, examining it with startling clarity. Then he’s setting it aside and moving back to the scroll. 

Many ciphers are written without punctuation with the intent of clouding the message further. It’s simple enough to piece together where the apostrophes are, even if they’re not actually included within the encoding, as any word that ends in s is suspect. This particular cipher appears to feature s as a direct translation, so that part was easier to piece together. A hyphen, however, is harder to put into place, and would throw the reader off if they don’t know the keyword.

I am allsccgle becomes I am all-sccgle in his notes.

All what? He questions inwardly, staring at it until the whistle of the boiling water pulls him from his rumination. 

He lifts the kettle from the stove top and pours it over his glass to set the tea to brew. As he stirs the rice once, then twice, he frowns. 

The “cc” has to be a vowel repetition, then.

It’s that thought that does it.

All-seeing.

For some reason it makes every hair on his arm stand on end, malefic and ill-intended.

He scrawls it down quickly and scans the source text, glancing occasionally to the rice atop the stove before filling in the remainder of the message, now that he’s got Es, Is, Ns, and Gs down.

Eventually the rice has finished boiling, and he finishes his preparation of the simple meal. Typically Sasuke is not hasty in his food preparation, but he is now, only half-draining the white grain into a bowl prior to pouring the sencha over it and taking it back to his table. He wishes he had his other hand in the sense that he could at least eat with one and continue writing with the other, but he makes do as he always does, barely tasting the food in his distraction.

It’s around midnight, ochazuke long finished, when a familiar twinge at the edge of his stump pulls his frown deeper; the heat and the barometric pressure change that accompanies it is beginning to bother his bad arm again. Possibly his lack of sleep, too.

He sighs, wholly irritated, ahead of rising to shrug off his shirt and grab a towel from the bathroom. He examines the residual limb in the mirror, but it doesn’t look red anywhere. Alternatively, the entirety of his right shoulder is a mess of a purpling bruise, sensitive to the touch. He rolls up the towel dutifully as he heads to the living room to quietly begin his routine of stretches, though he knows from experience it won’t help much: flexor stretch for five minutes with the towel propped beneath his stump, extensor stretch for six, then his shoulder for roughly the same stretch of time. It does somewhat help to detract from the concatenation that is his mind’s racing, at least, though the pull in his bruised shoulder as he moves through each exercise is far from pleasant.

He pops two pain relief pills chased with water before returning to the scroll.

It’s nearly three when he pieces the final bit of the message out, keyword identified and sentences chunked into a final legible message that doesn’t do much to detract from his increasing tension.

pjulocr dnr aboecrs trcbsurc sfgsn nljy bpprnxgkbtcjy bprgj tf tf  tn  fnurs gjjusgnl tcmflgquc vbry jnmbtgnl bs lccoco bjnle rnutc sn jnle bs tfcyrc nmmupgco bt bercco upnl tgkcs ynu wgjj rcmcgvc pbykclt ynu kby iccp wfbt ynu mbl ect bwby wgtf pbykclt wgjj ac pnstco rcebrojcss nd mbpturc bjrcboy stnwco gd ynu tbji cxpcmt rcvnmbtgnl mrbwj jcbos tn rcloczvnus pnglt wgtf pbykclt jnmbtgnl jnni dnr rcmcss rctrgcvc blo dnrect wfbt ynu sbw onuajc mrnssgle wgjj rcsujt gl tfc gldnrkblts cxpgry g bk bjjsccgle

Plunder for badger’s treasure. Shiso only. Approximately April 10th 20th. 800 to 1000 hours. Illusion technique. Vary location as needed along route. So long as they’re occupied at agreed upon times, you will receive payment. You may keep what you can get away with. Payment will be posted regardless of capture; already stowed. If you talk, expect revocation. Crawl leads to rendezvous point with payment location. Look for recess, retrieve, and forget what you saw. Double crossing will result in the informant's expiry. I am all-seeing.

Sasuke’s frown pulls deeper. It sounds awfully familiar, in more ways than one.

The keyword is bamboo.

As it doesn’t necessarily seem like an urgent emergency - all of the bandits are in custody, he knows, and will be for at least the next few weeks, meaning whatever their payment was will be sitting untouched - he resolves to see Kakashi first thing in the morning. He doesn’t typically set an alarm given his tendency to wake up generally when he intends to, but he does this time for just before six. He assumes his old sensei will be in by then.

Sasuke endeavors to clear his mind in the meantime, hoping to be able to sleep for at least a couple of hours. There’s one method as of late that has proven rather effective at aiding him in that regard, so he makes use of it with only a tiny bit of disinclination, closing his eyes and thinking of Sakura and how she gently pulled him back for a sixth kiss tonight prior to his departure.

…And the outfit. He doesn’t notice clothing on other people, but that has been branded into his ocularity all day, even after they’d hung out later and she’d showered and changed, face-framing braid and flowers abandoned for freshly-washed hair imbued with a raspberry scent.

In the crystal clear dream that follows, he’s peeling her clothing off of her as she whispers his name with increasing urgency. He drags the netting over her shoulders, then the shorts down her hips, and presses his lips to the creamy skin by her navel until she squirms, moans soft as silk to his ears. He redirects his attentions to the freckle on her thigh, and then-

He wakes up well in advance of his alarm, blisteringly hot and thinking about flushed skin and wondering the answer to an entirely improper question that's been bothering him since the advent of puberty, coupled with his knowledge of genetics.

He's in over his head, he gathers as he rakes his hand over his face in frustration.

XXX

“Kakashi,” he greets tersely as he steps into the Hokage’s office at six in the morning sharp, scroll and translation notes in lone hand.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi responds. There is no tone of surprise regarding the early hour, despite the fact that it seems they are the only people in the entire building as of yet. The silver-haired ninja’s focus only briefly flicks to what’s in his hand. “It’s early. I take it you’ve finished?”

Sasuke nods as he hands it over. “Keyword is bamboo.”

That statement appears to get his attention. The Hokage meets his gaze and blinks once.

“Curious,” he comments before unrolling Sasuke’s translation and reading through it in a manner that seems methodical. Sasuke lingers, wanting to gauge his sensei’s reaction. There is a very minute widening of Kakashi’s lone visible eye as he reads the concluding statement.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, laying the paper to rest on the desk in front of him, next to the scroll. “How troubling. Though I suppose I can’t say it’s entirely unprecedented.”

Sasuke nods. “The bandits were a diversion, then.”

“It appears so,” Kakashi agrees, peering out the window in a way that seems contemplative.

There is an extensive pause, and then Kakashi’s frowning down at Sasuke’s notes again. 

“I know you didn’t mention anything of the sort, but just to confirm: the bandits didn’t use any illusion techniques, did they?”

“...No.”

Kakashi taps his fingers on his desk, frowning. “Hmm. I thought that perhaps the way we came about that first scroll was too easy, though I suppose we had no choice but to intervene.”

“...Where did this one come from?” Sasuke knows it’s probably confidential, so Kakashi doesn’t have to answer him, but he’s disquisitive nonetheless. 

His old sensei is quiet for a long time, so long that Sasuke suspects he isn’t going to answer. It seems like he’s thinking, or perhaps planning, mentally positioning pieces in possible paths forward.

“...It was discovered by accident,” he finally divulges. “A civilian was harvesting some bamboo for their family’s dinner.” After pausing, Kakashi turns to him. “Allegedly they sliced off a long section of cane, and it fell right out.” He nods his head in the direction of the scroll. There’s a grim frown etched in the shadows of Kakashi’s mask.

So found in bamboo in addition to bamboo being the keyword. 

Something about this is making his skin crawl.

Kakashi sighs eventually, astriction fizzling out of him. 

“Well. I’ll have to discuss this with a few people before we act, but I’m guessing I have an idea of what’s going on, based on our other intel.” His gaze rises to Sasuke. “Expect to have a mission perhaps as soon as this evening; I have a feeling your skills are well-suited to what I have in mind. I’ll summon you once the course is decided.”

Sasuke dips his head in acknowledgement, mind going into planning mode as it always does when he knows a mission is iminent. He turns on his heel to head out the door, stump still aching at his side. 

“And Sasuke,” Kakashi calls just as he’s reached the threshold. 

Sasuke pauses, turning.

His old sensei is smiling at him now, wide and genuine. “Thank you for the translation. Your help is invaluable. I hope everything is going well… Sakura seems very happy.”

Sasuke blinks, slowly nodding once as a diminutive amount of tension eases out of him. He doesn’t say anything more before he departs, quiet footsteps echoing down the empty hallway and atop the stairs.

Sakura works until seven, he knows, and she said last night that she would be heading in a little early today to work on some other things, too - an appointment with a patient and research work. He mulls it over on his walk home in the already broiling air, thinking about an invitation to her office if he's hurting, the pain in his residual limb, and his dwindling supply of tea, in addition to their now null plans for later tonight.

Eventually he arrives at a decision. 

XXX

Sakura’s office is still as meticulously tidy as it was the last time he was here, though there's a stack of papers nearly ten inches high on her desk, followed by a few folders denoting some system of organization, bits of documents and what appears to be overflowing notes sticking out of them. It will work in his favor, he concludes as he strategically situates the iced tea out of sight, sweetened and flavored with the things he's learned she likes. It fits slightly behind the pile while still being far enough away to ensure the documents remain unsullied by any condensation on the outer portion of the cup. Most importantly, it’s placed at an angle that ensures it won’t be discovered until she sits at her desk.

Sasuke takes a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the room with Interlocking Maps, angled in a way in which he can read with the light from her large window, as he doesn’t want to turn the light on and possibly alert her staff that someone is in her office. He also doesn't flare his chakra; it's not an emergency, and he doesn't want to interrupt her day. He's sure she'll notice his presence regardless once enough time passes, and she'll have to come to her office eventually. There's some part of him that still feels a little hesitant in being here despite the pain in his residual limb, though he knows that Sakura means what she says.

Roughly half an hour passes - he’s in the concluding pages of the book - before he hears her voice down the hall, followed shortly by her chakra flaring slightly in what he assumes is acknowledgment. He flares his own in response, hardly enough for any other ninja in the vicinity to notice, marking his page with the faded petal prior to closing the book and setting it on the small corner table.

"Aoi," her voice calls from down the hall, punctuated by the sound of footsteps. "Do you think you could get Room 449 started for me? I need a general update from her, and she’ll need to drink the glucola so in an hour we can draw the blood to test. I’ll head in for the ultrasound in a bit.”

Sasuke blinks. He didn’t know she did ultrasounds.

“Of course, Sakura-san. I’ll get the solution mixed up now,” a female voice responds.

“Thank you,” Sakura’s voice calls, closer now. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

The door to her office swings open and in she steps, donning a white jacket and clutching a clipboard in one arm.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets quietly once she’s closed the door behind her, casting a smile in his direction.

“Sakura,” he murmurs just as softly as she appraises him as if to assess him for injury. She neglects to turn the light on, he notices, likely to ensure they will not be disturbed.

He raises his stump slightly in answer. “...Heat’s bothering it,” he supplies simply, then adds, hesitant, "...If you have time." 

She dips her chin in confirmation, eyes softening as if that’s what she expected. She pulls out the chair next to his slightly at an angle and takes a seat while Sasuke begins to roll his sleeve up to his shoulder in response, baring his stump to her on his left as she sets aside her clipboard.

“How bad?” She questions softly as her fingertips rise to meet his skin and he tries to school his brain into not reflecting on masculine wanderings from the night and early hours. “On a scale of one to ten?”

He reflects briefly, taking stock of the set of his jaw. “...Maybe a six.” It’s close to the truth.

Sakura nods as her fingers begin glowing green, and he exhales slowly in relief, tissue losing tension and ache nearly all at once.

“No redness? Or areas that feel warmer than usual?”

Sasuke shakes his head, carefully controlled and thinking while he works on his words.

“...If there was, I’d tell you,” he offers huskily after he’s mulled it over, voice barely a whisper. 

Brilliant eyes flicker up to his, slightly wide as her lashes skim her cheeks once, then twice. Then her gaze settles, a small smile threading its way to her lips as her focus falls back to the mess of severed muscle she’s working on.

“I’m glad,” she murmurs in equal volume. He thinks she looks very pleased. One of her thumbs makes an arch across his skin that he knows from past experience isn’t quite necessary.

Worth saying, then.

He swallows, forcing his mind fastidiously blank and trying to ignore what even the slightest touch from her does to his pulse. 

“...I’ll likely have a mission assignment today,” Sasuke tells her once he thinks he’s got it under control and she’s finishing up, chakra fading as she begins to rub her fingers in circles, pushing long-lasting relief into the sensitive nerve endings, edge taken off and then some.

Sakura peers up at him, blinking quizzically. 

“...Likely?”

He nods. “Kakashi said he’ll summon me this evening.”

Understanding dawns on her expression.

“Ah.” She smiles, apparently realizing that it will negate the plans they made the evening previous, fingers still arching patterns into his skin. “Thank you for letting me know. Any idea for how long?”

Sasuke frowns, reflecting on the rough number of days the bandit mission took. He's not entirely sure what sort of ground they'll need to cover. 

“...Maybe eight days, if Sai’s with.” 

A thoughtful expression overtakes her face as she continues to massage the underlying tissue. “Sai’s on a mission already,” she says. “Shikamaru, too. Probably won’t be your usual squad.”

His frown sinks further. Perhaps it’ll be a more run-of-the-mill squad then. He briefly pities Kakashi, and to a lesser degree, Naruto, for having to decide who to deploy with him. He’s sure the list of possible candidates isn’t a long one.

“...Longer, then, probably,” he surmises. He doubts there are too many people within Konoha’s ranks who can aid in group travel faster than Sai, other than perhaps Naruto and himself. He’s not keen on using the Rinnegan for that purpose with random ninja he’s not well acquainted with. 

Sakura exhales slowly. “Probably,” she echoes in agreement, releasing his bicep now that she’s finished. 

“If it’s longer…" She looks at him, inquisitive, as her voice trails off, biting her lip in a way that is profoundly distracting.

Then she adds, softly as she pulls his sleeve back into place for him, "...Is there anything else I should look at before you go?” 

Sasuke thinks it over, trying to ascertain if it’s feasible they’ll run into any kind of serious combat on this mission. It’s possible, he supposes, though he’s working with blank spaces in his rationale and scope.

After a brief moment of internal hesitation regarding the ramifications this choice will undoubtedly have in store for him later, he angles his torso differently, shifting his other arm towards her. It would be sensible to get it fixed while he’s here, if she’s offering.

Corrosion.

“...It’s just bruised, but Naruto got my shoulder pretty good,” he responds finally, meeting her eyes with trepidation, because he knows he’s unable to roll up his own main sleeve without doing something wholly undignified like using his teeth. If he was alone, he would simply take his shirt off, but he doesn’t want to do that here for reasons that are obvious. 

How different could it be, really, for her to roll his sleeve up instead of down? 

“Of course,” she says slowly, lips turned skyward sweetly. “I can look at it.” 

There’s a pause in which he simply sits there, waiting, and then he looks away, heat rising up his neck as he attempts to imprison his interior monologue into a metaphorical jar, tightening the lid.

She blinks several times - he can see it out of the corner of his line of sight - before she seems to realize why there is a lack of progress on his part in baring his shoulder. Then her fingers are at his other sleeve, brushing his knuckles in the process.

When he braves a glance, he notes her cheeks are cherry red, and it gives him some reassurance that she’s at the very least not entirely unaffected, either. Her fingers twitch against his, barely noticeable. Then it’s gone in the flicker of an eye, conquered by her professionalism, and she begins the process of shifting dark fabric all the way up his arm.

Turns out, it’s very different.

The air feels unmistakably charged as Sakura’s fingers drag ever so slightly against his skin. He is reminded of the way the strained honey at the tea shop flowed from the dispenser under the weight of gravity, dripping rich gold into a cup of sweetened peach tea and lemon slices.

He rapidly bottles another mental jar, this one containing all of his thoughts regarding removing clothing, and rolls it firmly away into the abyss. She’s careful in her touch even moreso once she gets to the shoulder, brow furrowing with clear concern as the bruise comes into sight. It is a particularly bad one, he supposes, turned fully splotchy purple and blue now, with a sickly yellow lurking at the edges.

Once the sleeve is situated out of the way, she carefully lays her hands atop the curve of his trapezius where it meets his deltoid and presses chakra there, urging the colors of damaged blood vessels back to normalcy along with any remnants of pain. Sasuke very carefully looks anywhere but her, fingers gripping where they’re resting against his thigh.

It feels almost as nice as it does on his stump. She really is good at what she does, to both his benefit and his detriment.

Minutes pass in which he counts the bricks on the wall, memorizing the exact shade of taupe they are painted with. By the time he feels capable of chancing a look again, the color of the skin on his shoulder has returned to its normal shade. 

“There,” she says softly, lifting her fingers, and he’d nearly forgotten that there would be no sort of massage following the healing of a simple bruise, nasty and all-encompassing as it was. She gently tugs the fabric of his sleeve back down his arm, lightly branding invisible fingerprints all the way down the expanse of skin that may as well be sacrosanct to the testosterone heavy part of his brain.

Sasuke exhales slowly in a way he hopes is discreet, profoundly coming to terms with the fact that, based on his jumping pulse alone, he is absolutely, pitifully doomed in this regard.

“Thank you,” he breathes as her hand recedes. 

Sakura smiles up at him like it’s preeminent praise. 

“You’re welcome,” she murmurs, the jade of her eyes dancing briefly before she glances at her clock. He follows her gaze, noting that roughly fifteen minutes have passed, though it felt hours longer to him.

She sighs as she rises from the chair, pushing it into its customary place against the wall; he follows her lead, as he doesn’t want to keep her from her schedule for too long.

“You’ll come by, once you’re back?” She questions, shifting her weight to her other side prior to reaching to collect her clipboard.

He nods, and her smile returns. 

“Good,” she says softly, dimple inking into existence. “Here’s hoping the heat breaks soon.”

He huffs his version of a laugh, knowing it will be at least a few days before they have any such luck, and her grin inches wider. 

There’s a lingering moment where her smile softens into a decidedly different expression, and he blinks, because she’s still just looking at him.

Then she’s rising to her tiptoes. 

Her lips are pressed softly to his right cheek sooner than he can process what’s happening, careful pressure lingering where she can barely reach. She pulls away after scarcely a second, sinking back to her heels with a shy expression. 

“Be safe,” she murmurs, casting one more disarmingly pretty glance in his direction. She turns and heads out the door, shutting it behind her with a soft click.

Sasuke gawks at it, disoriented and vision glued to the threshold as the cadence of Sakura’s footsteps fades down the hallway.

Once he’s completely sure she’s gone, he allows himself to raise his hand, sliding his fingers atop the skin where her lips have just been. Once, then twice, then thrice. 

His cheek feels warm even to his own touch. It’s a minute or two before he manages to let his arm fall away and he departs the way he came, blind to everything save mixed berry redolence.

XXX

The summons arrives as he’s finishing an early dinner, a large portion of pork curry donburi as he contemplates the ending of Interlocking Maps in lamplight. He’s somewhat glad he chose to do his dishes and organize his newly diversified tea cabinet beforehand; it’s apparently a more pressing summons, which means he’ll have little time to pack. 

He’s the first one to arrive in Kakashi’s office, and he’s not entirely sure that’s a good sign regarding this briefing, given he’s going to be assigned to a different squad. It’s rare, but not unheard of for Shinobi to refuse to take a mission. Kakashi is the sort who inspires a lackadaisical sort of devotion, though, so he tries not to let his frown sink too deep right from the get go.

“Sasuke,” his old sensei greets. He doesn’t look a bit concerned, so Sasuke lets his shoulders relax slightly as he nods in greeting. He notes as he comes to stand at his usual spot for briefings, a few feet away from the front of his desk, that a map, the scroll, his notes, and a few other documents of writing are spread before Kakashi; he assumes they must be for whoever is leading this squad.

“The other two are coming,” he mentions cryptically, eye crinkling at the edges, and that gets Sasuke’s attention. 

Two. Not three. 

It doesn’t take long for Naruto’s trademark gait, loud and thundering, to begin echoing up the stairs, though there’s none of the raspy speech that usually accompanies it. Sasuke briefly wonders why he’s so quiet; usually he’s boisterous with both voice and body.

He soon discovers why. Naruto shoulders the door open, chopsticks in one hand and a ludicrously large bowl of what appears to be ramen in his other, frantically chewing.

“Oi!” He mumbles a greeting through a half bite of noodles and what appears to be a sizable chunk of sliced eel prior to swallowing, and Sasuke’s eye twitches, because he knows in an instant that the dobe probably begged Hinata to combine expensive grilled eel with his favorite cheap food of choice. 

Naruto’s blue eyes bug out of his head when he realizes that Sasuke is standing there.

“EH? Teme?!” He looks from Sasuke to Kakashi, then repeats the motion with increasing speed, shoving another bite of whatever’s in the bowl into his mouth - Sasuke recognizes that yes, it is indeed grilled unagi ramen - and sauntering up to Kakashi’s desk. 

He chews thoroughly before he sets the bowl down somewhat gingerly on the edge of the surface, careful not to spill a drop of broth. He then levels their old sensei with a glare and swallows his food. 

“If YOU called me here for fucking guard duty reconnaissance with teme again-” 

Sasuke’s eye twitches again. 

Nosy.

“-Just when my wife has invented the GREATEST food to ever exist-”

Sasuke rolls his eyes.

“I’ll-” The dobe punches the air with his chopsticks as Kakashi smiles, completely unaffected, and really, that’s what cements it for Sasuke, in terms of who their third squad member is going to be. “I’ll-”

Naruto angrily shoves his chopsticks into his bowl again, fishing another ridiculously enormous bite out of his bowl and shoving it into his mouth to chew. 

The dobe swallows, then sighs exasperatedly. “WELL, I don’t know what I’ll do! But I’ll think of something!” Blue eyes flit from one filing cabinet to the next. “I know your stupid books are hidden in here somewhere. I WILL find them if that’s what this is; do you hear me?!”

His hand manipulates the chopsticks into the bowl for another bite, delivering it to his mouth before he picks up the bowl again and drinks some broth. 

Kakashi smiles, completely unmoved.

“Sure.”

A lone blond eyebrow twitches, annoyed, before he comes to stand in relatively the same vicinity as Sasuke. At least the dobe has apparently gathered that he’s not the mission leader. He must usually not be, for the missions he does get; he didn’t even ask about the papers or the scroll. 

Minutes tick by, Naruto chewing noodles and eel and chunks of green onions and wakame, vacillating between sipping and glaring at Kakashi. Sasuke becomes even more sure that his earlier inkling was correct - most ninja are not late without good reason - and sure enough, a lighter step pattern he knows even better than Naruto’s begins echoing up the steps.

Sasuke shares a look with Kakashi that is knowing as an ear-splitting grin erupts on Naruto’s face. 

“Kakashi-sensei!!” The dobe whoops, raising his chopsticks in the air. Sasuke notes he still grips the bowl carefully, not spilling a drop of what Hinata’s made for him. “Really?! Really, really?!?! You’re not fucking with us, right?!”

Kakashi bears the same smile he’s been wearing this entire time. “Really.” 

Even Sasuke can admit that his heart is at least a little warmed.

Sakura pushes the doors to the Hokage Office open a few seconds later, a wide grin on her face; it’s obvious she heard Naruto at least a floor down. 

“Sakura-chaaan! Team Seven reunion mission!! For real this time!” Naruto cheers, shoving another bite of his food into his mouth and chewing with renewed vigor. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she supplies, gaze flicking from Naruto to Sasuke before she closes the door behind her and turns to Kakashi. “I was in the lab.”

“Usually that’s my line,” their old sensei says with amusement prior to pushing the small collection of papers to the outer edge of his desk. “...But I suppose I’ll let it slide just this once.” He motions to Naruto’s usual chair as well as the few chairs pushed against the far wall. “It’s probably best you all grab a chair. This is going to involve some map work to understand.”

Sakura nods, proceeding to grab a chair. Sasuke follows suit as Naruto grabs his usual one to pull around to the front of the desk.

Once they’re gathered around, Sakura in the middle, Sasuke on her left, and Naruto, still slurping from his bowl, on her right, Kakashi begins.

“Forewarning that this does get a bit complicated, so feel free to stop me if there’s something you need further clarification on.” He slides the scroll and Sasuke’s notes over the map, which Sasuke can now see depicts roughly the area in which they apprehended the bandits, along with some scrawled notes that look like Kakashi’s handwriting. “This scroll was shared with us by our Land of Rivers allies. A civilian found it within a cane of bamboo near their family’s farm field completely by accident; harvesting some cuts of bamboo for dinner. Essentially it wasn’t meant to be discovered, at least not by us; it’s simply our luck that the civilian reported it and our allies collected it.” 

Kakashi pauses long enough to roll the scroll open to compare it with Sasuke’s notes. 

“What’s significant about this is the timing and locale. We received a report regarding a missing child, a few months back, from the Land of Rivers.” Kakashi points to what must be the rough location, still visible on the map below the other materials, and very near the border of the Land of Fire. “Here, roughly. Now…” His finger trails upwards, to the Land of Fields, and Sasuke frowns. “Here, another child went missing. Roughly the same age, and roughly the same story, though Fields has been less overflowing with their information than Rivers has. A boy, about eight. What they have in common, from what we’ve gathered aside from their age, is that both children were born to civilian parents, but had a solid amount of chakra respectively, and thus good potential to become ninja.” Kakashi points to the town nearest to the disappearance location in the area of the map that denotes the Land of Fields. “This one was from a more populated area - a town rather than the countryside like the other one - but his mother was calling upon an elderly neighbor when it happened, so he was alone at the house. That also happened a few months ago, before the Land of Rivers kid disappeared.”

“There’s been no sign of either of them?” Sakura questions, looking troubled.

Kakashi shakes his head. “No. Nothing.” There’s a brief pause before he continues. “So back to the scroll. Sasuke helpfully finished translating it this morning. His notes correspond as follows: Plunder for badger’s treasure. Shiso only. Approximately April 10th 20th. That’s the first part. We’re working on the assumption that this means something was going to go down April 10th through the 20th. Now previously-” Kakashi leans to open one of the drawers of his desk, procuring another familiar-looking scroll. “Sasuke also translated this one.” 

“Hey! I helped-”

Kakashi throws Naruto a look that causes him to close his mouth, grumble, apparently think better of whatever nonsense he was about to say, and take another bite of his food.

“As I was saying. Not easy by any means, but not nearly as complicated a cipher as the one before you. This one detailed three specific locations that were about to be plundered by bandits, all occurring within that range of time. Stealing valuables of farmers from their houses while they were away trying to sow the fields. Seems simple enough at first, without the context of the second scroll, right? Your basic cut and dry thievery.”

“And nothing to imply that the two scrolls are even related,” Sakura notes, apparently clocking the stylistic differences between the two types of paper.

“Exactly. The newer one’s only become suspicious in retrospect.” Kakashi smiles at her prior to continuing. “So circling back to plunder for badger’s treasure. Based on our intelligence, we believe plunder to be referring to the reward offered to these bandits in exchange for whatever badger’s treasure is, leading us to think that they were not working solely off the motive of stealing cheap valuables from smallfolk, but rather that that was the cherry on top of another promised, more lucrative reward.” The silver-haired ninjai pauses, directing a lengthy glance at Sakura, and when he follows the look, Sasuke sees Sakura seems additionally distraught now, concern painting her face. Naruto, meanwhile, appears to still have gears turning as he tries to follow their old sensei’s logic.

“That’s what I thought at first, too, given the missing children, but I don’t think that’s it,” Kakashi says simply, and the severity of her expression lessens a bit; Sasuke frowns deeper, now reading the implication of her line of thought. “Which brings us to the next portion of this message: illusion technique. Vary location as needed along route. So long as they’re occupied at agreed upon times, you will receive payment. Except here’s the thing. I reread the mission reports, and confirmed with Sasuke, our resident expert in the field on illusion ninjutsu, and none of the bandits used any such techniques. Thus whoever wrote this scroll was the one casting some kind of illusion while said bandits were creating a diversion. Their goal was obviously to focus ninja response in the area on the bandits, and also to lure some of the farmers away from their fields for a bit. I’m working under the assumption, then, that the illusion technique was cast to make something in the fields look like it belongs there when in reality it does not. Obviously that is interesting, because there isn’t a whole lot that one can hide in a freshly tilled field, and furthermore, simple farmers aren’t going to be expelling genjutsu anyways. In addition to that, how many ninja pass directly through fields of crops? Whatever is there, the person behind all this really doesn’t want to be found.”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“So then, you may keep what you can get away with is fairly straightforward. Payment will be posted regardless of capture; already stowed is what is currently in question. Thus far, none but one the bandits have talked. For the lot of them, I’d chalk it up less to any sense of loyalty and more to plain lack of knowledge about what they were actually creating a diversion for in the first place. The one that we did get to talk - one of their leaders - didn’t know much, either; just vague hints about badgers being tricksters and shiso fields, so I’m not quite sure they even knew anything other than the location. And if you talk, expect revocation; also straightforward. Crawl leads to rendezvous point with payment location. But crawl where? Into the homes of the farmers? I doubt it. It’s the look for recess, retrieve, and forget what you saw that cemented it for me.”

“Even to a novice ninja, this agreement sounds sketchy,” Sakura comments, and Kakashi nods immediately. 

“Very true. And all of the bandits in our custody, as well as our allies, seem to be… well.” He smiles. “They’re idiots. Which leads me to a creeping suspicion that said payment doesn’t actually exist.”

“Wait, wait, wait. If they’re dumb,” Naruto says, swirling his chopsticks into his bowl, “Then how were they supposed to translate this scroll in the first place?”

For a moment, Kakashi folds both of his hands in front of him. “That’s simple: barring their leader, the majority of them weren’t meant to translate it. This scroll in itself was insurance, in case the one leader sent to ‘collect’ somehow did manage to find its location.” 

“The location of the ‘plunder’ is a trap designed to eliminate the one who knows the most, so that there’s no trace of whatever it is they’re hiding,” Sakura observes, and their old sensei nods.

“Yes. Insurance. No payment needed until the end anyways; either Konoha or our allies will detain them, and if anyone did manage to escape our grasp, it would be the one who’s the most knowledgeable on the situation and helped to organize the others. In which case… should they be able to even find the ‘plunder’s’ location, they would be swiftly eliminated.”

“Wait. So how did the idiot bandits even know the dates, then?” Naruto asks, looking puzzled as he leans back in his chair.

Kakashi waves his hand. “Different scrolls, copies of the initial one that tipped us off about the bandits in the first place. Those ones were more necessary to deliver, to ensure the diversion was created.”

“Hmm.” The dobe nods his head emphatically, taking another bite.

“So. Back to look for recess, retrieve, and forget what you saw. Double crossing will result in the informant’s expiry. Nice message to lull the reader into a false sense of security, that single crossing will turn out as planned. And then, of course, the ending.”

“I am all-seeing,” Sakura reads, brows furrowing together. She meets Kakashi’s gaze steadily. “Not sure I like that.”

“I’m not, either,” Kakashi murmurs, and Sasuke suddenly thinks the man sounds very tired. “And I’m hoping against hope that this has nothing to do with any sort of business of trying to undo seals, but… Well. You can’t be too careful.” He shrugs - Sasuke thinks in an attempt to lighten the mood - before moving the scroll aside so it’s just the map, Sasuke’s notes, and the few remaining documents.

“So wait,” Naruto blurts. “What’s the mission? Like, what are we doing? Do we know where the kids are?”

“Getting there,” Kakashi admonishes, spreading the documents further out so that the writing is easier to read from their vantage point. “These are a couple reports we’ve had about strange rocks and materials showing up in well water. One from Fire Country, and another from an outlier community in Rivers.”

“Well water,” Sakura echoes, frowning as her green eyes flit amongst the words at the tops of the pages prior to turning focus on the map. Sasuke follows the trajectory and realizes she’s trying to place the locations specified, so he follows suit.

His own brows furrow, because he’s somewhat familiar with the geography of the area from his travels, and he believes he’s now come to the same realization that Kakashi has.

“Badger’s plunder,” Sasuke murmurs, staring at the map as the words he’s translated gain new meaning. 

Badgers are tricksters. It’s a common message in folktales, and their main pastime is... 

“...They were digging tunnels.” 

“Ah, the magic of teamwork. I’m a proud sensei.” Kakashi grins at Sasuke now, before shifting his attention to Sakura. “So the shiso bit…?”

“...A field of freshly tilled dirt will camouflage any tunnel entryways as long as they’re kept small. Shiso will grow dark in color by the time the dirt is more densely packed, following the season’s growth. It’ll camouflage any entrances better,” Sakura supplies.

Ah. 

“The bandits were specifically instructed to mainly hit farmers planting shiso, so they were away from those fields specifically while the areas were barred with genjutsu and they worked on tunnel construction,” Sasuke finishes, looking briefly at Sakura with something like silent approbation. 

“And thus I assume you can see where I’m going with this.” Kakashi tucks his hand beneath his chin, observing years of his own work unfold.

“You want us to investigate the tunnels, fast…” Naruto begins thoughtfully, apparently quicker on the uptake than Sasuke remembers.

“Neutralize any threats, inclusive of the trap. Retrieve the children if they’re there, and then collapse the entire system,” Sakura finishes with a tone of finality.

“Precisely, and within a short time, too; you’re probably going to need several rounds of caffeine pills. No sense in spreading out the devastation on the chance that you’re discovered; once you collapse one, you don’t want to wait too long to do the others, though I’m guessing they probably connect at some point. You can see why Team Seven’s skills would be uniquely suited to this sort of mission. All of your battle capabilities are obviously invaluable should you run into trouble, as well as Sakura’s healing talents, but your other skills should also be especially useful for the main task I have in mind.” Their sensei’s lone visible eye flicks over each of them in order, beginning with Sasuke. “I imagine that snake summonings will be effective in locating the tunnels in the first place, and any sort of knowledge on the terrain is obviously great. Rinnegan transport could be used occasionally, if you know the path before you from Naruto’s clones. You can also destroy any belongings we don't want whoever this is to have without leaving a trace.” His focus moves to Sakura. “You can collapse a tunnel with your pinky.” Lastly, his dark eye lands on Naruto. “And Naruto can transport groups quickly, too, in addition to making hundreds of shadow clones with which to search the premises, and poof them out of existence as you travel behind them, transmitting any intel back to the real Naruto. It’ll be easy enough to disable possible traps preceding the real you with a clone.” The Hokage scans all three of them in order again. “And then once it’s done, you can vacate the immediate area as quickly as you came, then come home the rest of the way normally so it appears as though you’re just returning from a routine mission.” Kakashi begins efficiently rolling up both the scroll and Sasuke’s notes, returning the items to their pile, though he leaves the map open. “I think it will be quite obvious to whoever we’re dealing with here that trying to operate under our nose won’t be tolerated, but there’s no reason to not go about it all with stealth and finesse nevertheless.”

“But where do we search?” Naruto questions, and Sasuke looks on curiously, because he is also wondering that very same question. It’s more than a needle in a haystack, even if he summons all of the smallest snakes he can request Aoda to gather for him at Ryuchi Cave and they only search around fields planted with shiso. They’re talking leagues and leagues of farmland. This sort of mission could take weeks if not months, unless there’s another clue somewhere within the translation.

Something nags at the corner of his mind, and he forcibly yanks it out, glancing at three areas circled in red on the map.

Unless…

“The scroll was found within bamboo, and the keyword is bamboo,” he realizes aloud.

Kakashi smiles like a cat. “It absolutely is. And for whatever reason, I have a feeling you should take badger’s plunder literally. Start with a search for what appears to be an actual badger burrow, in a shiso field, within the line of sight of a bamboo grove.” He folds the map and slides it into Sakura’s hands. “There are three bamboo groves near fields planted with shiso this year, according to my intel. Interesting that it was the same number of bandit hits; I’ve marked them for you. And Sakura: please send a summon once it’s done, and don’t leave the helpless little Genin unattended, will you?”

XXX

He’s the first one to arrive at the gates. They’re leaving tonight, with the hopes of getting on location at the first site before one; night travel will grant them some cover. Sakura gave them three quarters of an hour to gather their things prior to congregating for departure.

“I’ll take care of things while you’re gone. Teamwork, remember?” Kakashi had finally said once Naruto was done cheering in untempered excitement at the prospect of their mission together. Their old sensei had smiled at that in a way that Sasuke felt was primarily directed at Sakura, then at his other teammate; probably assurance that Naruto’s projects and the hospital’s day-to-day will be dealt with in their absence. Perhaps there are a few particularly pressing things the both of them are working on. 

Sasuke will admit that his old sensei makes for a rather astute Hokage, though his eye is still twitching at the sentence involving guard duty reconnaissance. Really, though, Sasuke reflects, this is probably the absolute best excuse for Kakashi to get Naruto off his back about a Team Seven reunion mission, but in actuality it is also remarkably well-suited to their abilities. 

He watches the clouds drifting across the sky as the sun sinks lower in the west from his vantage point leaned up against the gates, trying to gauge how long this mission will take, given his and Naruto’s abilities enable faster travel. They’ve been instructed to move at a normal pace for the first hour outside of the village, and then to make use of Naruto’s Body Flicker Technique and his Rinnegan portals to make it to the first location. It all depends on how quickly they can locate and search the tunnels, Sasuke supposes. Being underground again isn’t something he’s necessarily looking forward to, having spent several years cohabiting tunnel systems while under Orochimaru, but it will at least be a bit cooler beneath the earth, he thinks as a bead of sweat works its way across his shoulder, pulled downwards by gravity.

He’ll admit he’s excited. It will be good to work as a team again. They’ve always had his back; now he’ll have theirs once more. 

Sakura appears down the road just a couple of minutes before their agreed-upon time, mission pack thrown over her shoulders. She’s wearing the midriff outfit again. It’s the one that makes the most sense, given the heat, but he carefully trains his vision on her face only, thinking this mission will become a test of forbearance in that regard.

“Sasuke-kun,” she murmurs in greeting, laughing a little as she gets close enough to speak. “No Naruto yet? He was excited enough that I thought he’d be the first one here.”

Sasuke snorts, rolling his eyes. “...I’m sure we’ll hear him before we see him.”

Sakura chuckles. “Yeah, I’m sure we will.” She pauses, scanning the village behind them prior to turning to him again. 

“Was that unagi ramen he had?” She questions, tone sounding somewhat incredulous.

“Pretty sure it was,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes again.

Sakura heaves a sigh, grinning as she folds her arms together. “Bless Hinata’s heart.”

Sasuke nods in agreement. 

There’s a lengthy pause in which Sakura seems like she wants to say something else, but before the words leave her mouth, a baritone is echoing through the streets.

“Sakuraaaaa-chaaaaan! Teme!” 

The dobe blasts into sight down the road, arms extended outwards on either side as he zooms down the gravel in a pose reminiscent to that of a child, weaving to one side of the road and then the other. Sasuke takes the opportunity to glance at Sakura and sees she’s smiling fondly.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything!” The dobe laughs once he’s closer, a megawatt smile on open display as Sasuke’s eye twitches. Naruto then throws an arm each around both Sakura and himself, gripping them closer, and Sasuke promptly begins work on shoving him away halfheartedly while simultaneously realizing the dobe smells more like sweat than he does, despite him being the first one here. 

Gross, Sasuke thinks as he surmises the presumable reason he was the last to arrive.

“Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven’s BACK!”

Sakura laughs, seemingly unaffected by the dobe’s insinuation as Naruto struggles to pull Sasuke into their circle and he endeavors to swat him away. Despite her calm outward demeanor, Sasuke can tell she’s just as happy about this particular assignment. She doesn’t push Naruto away at all. 

Conversely, actually, because not only does Sakura embrace their teammate despite his smell, but she also shifts her stance, reaching for Sasuke with a grin to pull him back into the semi-circle. 

The touch feels unsure, even though her outward expression doesn’t seem hesitant at all; merely a light dusting of her fingers at his shoulder, rather than the full-on rowdy hug Naruto tried, as if she’s not totally sure if he’ll let her.

There is a split second where Sasuke recalls a flurry of occasions on which he rebuked such touches from her in their early Genin days, even the times when they were intended to be platonic and within the context of celebratory teamwork, an effort to try to bring the three of them together rather than apart. 

He was such an idiot back then, trying to drive them both away with feigned indifference and irritation. If he had simply let them in, his adolescence could have turned out very differently. Perhaps Itachi’s death and the nauseating crack as he hit rock and concrete, fingers bloody, wouldn’t haunt him like an old house, and they all would have been spared the disaster at the Samurai Bridge, so he wouldn’t have to live with the atrocious knowledge of what it feels like to be the object of Sakura’s fear, what her eyes look like when she’s terrified of him.

He also wouldn’t have made her cry on a dark night, knowing him far too well despite his constant facade of acrimony, not far away from this very spot.

No time like the present.

So Sasuke concedes a step back closer to them, allowing smooth fingertips to guide him into place, though he still keeps the dobe at arm’s length for the sake of his nose. 

The touch at his shoulder grows just a smidgen more confident.

“We sure are,” Sakura agrees, grinning unabashedly now. “It’s good to be back; I haven’t had a mission in a while.”

“HELL yeah! It’s gonna be totally awesome! Those badgers are never gonna stand a chance!” 

At heart, Sasuke agrees.

XXX

They manage to make the first bamboo grove, the one where the second scroll was initially found, just after midnight. Quietly, they begin to poke around the freshly tilled soil. Around five hundred small snakes aid their efforts, scales slithering silent through the dirt in search of entrance to a larger tunnel system. 

“What’s that saying?” Naruto asks a few feet away, examining the edges of the field. “Beetle in a haystack?”

Sasuke snorts before he rolls his eyes, not answering. For all his idiocy, at least the dobe is proceeding forward somewhat quietly for once. No sense in starting a fight with him.

“Needle,” Sakura corrects from farther away, where she’s also crouched, using her hands and occasionally her feet to sift slightly through the dirt in the search.

“Huh?”

“Needle.”

Naruto scratches his chin, smearing dirt all over it. “Wait, why would you lose a needle in a haystack? That has nothing to do with hay.” The sits up, focus withdrawn from a patch of weeds. “And what if the cows accidentally eat it?! Ouch!” He asks as an afterthought in a harsh whisper, looking horrified. 

“It’s just an expression,” Sakura says impatiently. 

“A weird one,” Naruto mutters back as he adjusts his position slightly to the left. 

It’s a few more minutes before one of his snakes returns to him rather insistently, coiling around his left leg where it’s crouched. 

“Over here,” Sasuke calls quietly, giving the silent creature two strokes across the head in thanks. The snake then uncoils itself and slithers through the dirt, about forty yards deep into the field.

“Watch your step,” he instructs Naruto more than Sakura behind him as they come upon where the majority of Aoda’s smaller neighbors are congregating. He doesn’t want the dobe to step on any of them accidentally. They’re circling around what appears to be some simple soil and rock, expertly placed. 

As his teammates come up behind him, Sasuke murmurs a quick word of thanks to the reptiles; they spread to allow him a pathway to where he assumes the hole is, before poofing back to whence they came. He then murmurs a quick, “Kai,” followed suit by Sakura and Naruto behind him. Sure enough, the badger hole is there, inconspicuous even without the genjutsu.

“Y’know, teme, your snakes give me the creepy crawlies, but I gotta admit that was useful. We’da been searching for hours, otherwise.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes again, crouching now to gain a better grasp on the rough width and height of the hole. It’s not much bigger than a typical badger hole; definitely not big enough for a normal-sized person to fit through, though perhaps a child could squeeze by.

Naruto whistles as he gets closer, butting in beside Sasuke. “The fuck? Whoever got in here must be really fucking tiny.”

Sasuke rises, frowning at Naruto prior to taking a step back so the idiot has space to do whatever he’s about to do. When he glances at Sakura, she’s also frowning, dusting dirt off her knees. 

Naruto makes the appropriate hand signs for Shadow Clone Jutsu, several much smaller versions of himself poof into existence beside him, roughly two feet tall. The clones all but dive head first into the tunnel. 

There are several dull thuds, and then a moment of silence. The three of them listen with bated breath; they had assumed based on their intel that the pickup location of the promised reward, or rather, the trap, would not be at the same entrance within sight of where their scroll was found. It would be too easy.

“Yep!” Several voices eventually call up, and Sasuke strains to hear a variety of soft tapping noises as if the clones are sliding hands along the boundaries of the space and kicking in search of pressure release traps or punji sticks. “This is it. No trap at this one that I can tell. Hang on…” 

The real Naruto flurries through hand signs and about twenty additional small scale clones of himself arrive, dropping into the hole one by one. Then, there is the sound of raucous digging.

The dobe rises as both Sasuke and Sakura close in. Sure enough, several small blond heads of hair poke to the surface, scrabbling dirt from the boundaries of the hole to make the entrance wider. It’s soon doubled in size, which is probably big enough for Sakura to squeeze through, and then shortly thereafter triples. 

They slide down one after the other as Naruto’s shadow clones scatter forward into the darkness of the tunnel. Sasuke rises to his feet slowly, trying to gauge where the ceiling of the tunnel is, while simultaneously he hears Naruto rise too fast in the dark and crash his head against the low ceiling.

“Ow!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time today as Sakura flips on what must be the flashlight from her own pack. Sasuke situates his own to offer more light. Naruto follows last, grumbling at the low ceiling. 

Sakura fits below it without crouching, he sees, but not by much; the ceiling’s maybe got three inches on her. It’s going to be a long journey for both himself and Naruto, if that’s the case the entire way.

They shine their trio of lights down the tunnel, and Sasuke’s brows furrow, because it appears to go on for miles, as evidenced by all of Naruto’s clones’ footsteps already out of their hearing range. It’s well-constructed, no evidence of leaking dirt anywhere, and reinforced with posts as far as the eye can see.

Sasuke finds the same look of concern painting the faces of his teammates when he spares them a glance before they start the path forward. 

Sasuke activates his Sharingan just in case. 

XXX

They find absolutely nothing for the majority of their trek through the tunnel. 

Preceded by clones, there’s a relative sureness in their exploration of the tunnel system in regards to safety, but all they can really gather is that it’s lengthy and that there’s occasionally spots where the system widens to a larger room and a taller ceiling, deeper underground, before the tunnel narrows and slopes upward again. Naruto puts upwards of five hundred clones to work ahead of them, circling the ceilings and looking for traps to disengage as they travel behind them at a brisk pace. The dobe pulls them along with his Body Flicker Technique for the most of it; it’s more reliable for speed and safe transport given Naruto knows the route ahead from popping a clone out of existence every so often. Sasuke’s Rinnegan portals work if they know the path ahead is fairly straight, but he doesn’t want to waste chakra taking them straight within a dirt wall if the tunnel curves. Every couple of minutes, they have to stop so Sakura can turn behind them and level a chakra-charged fist at various points of the infrastructure to collapse the ground they’ve covered already. There are no branching pathways to be discovered, and no inhabitants to be found; simply mile after mile of earthen pathways to level in their wake, with occasional actual badger tunnels decorating the nullity of the dirt walls and intermixing with the new system.

There’s no furniture in any of the larger rooms, either; no evidence of people inhabiting the area, or even any hiding spots. They mutter a chorus of kais every five minutes of travel or so, but nothing. Just dirt. It doesn’t take long before they’re all covered in it.

It is very apparent that whoever constructed the place, they were confident that it wouldn’t be discovered.

Eventually they reach what appears to be the end of the first tunnel system. Judging by the time they’ve spent traveling thus far, they know they’ve been inching closer to the second location. Another pathway branches off from it, dirt scattered everywhere and no bit of light peeking through that would denote an entryway to the underpass. 

They approach it carefully, as Naruto already knows from a clone’s demise that this is where the trap was. 

It was a bomb, and one large enough to leave a small crater in its wake. Designed to kill whoever entered immediately upon impact, as well as to completely collapse that entrance to the tunnel, effectively closing it off but still leave the remaining system connected to the previous one. 

They take a short break just past it, hydrating and shoving down much-needed food pills and caffeine pills. Sasuke takes two, given he hasn’t been sleeping the best already, and stretches his back, as it’s cramped from crouching near constantly. Naruto deposes a couple of his clones to gain intel on the path forward: no more traps, though apparently there are a few additional larger ‘rooms’.

“I’m going to have you use your Body Flicker Technique again with us to cover the ground faster, though we can’t cover too much with me collapsing everything behind us,” Sakura says to Naruto. “Sasuke-kun, your Rinnegan, too, if the path is straight. I don’t like any of this.”

Inwardly, Sasuke echoes her thoughts. It’s well past sunrise by now, probably closer to noon - there are probably farmers walking on the ground above them, though they can’t hear them - but the system is deep enough that there’s not even a trickle of sunlight. It reminds him a little too much of Orochimaru’s network of hideouts, where it often felt as if the walls were closing in, given the pressure he was under at that time and how many days on end were spent in darkness.

The distance to cover between the second to the third location is longer than the span from the first to the second. Even with Naruto’s Body Flicker and occasionally Sasuke’s Rinnegan portals speeding up the process, they still have to stop far too often for his liking. Sakura’s fists are coated in dirt, and it’s also smeared all over all of their clothing. The dobe’s had some painting his left eyebrow for at least eight miles now. 

They change the flashlight batteries once they flicker out one by one, circumnavigating through three more of the larger rooms over the course of miles.

It’s the fourth one that gives them pause. Naruto walks to roughly the northeastern corner - it’s hard to tell due to being underground this long, though generally Sasuke’s navigation is pretty good - and points out a piece of machinery that juts out of the wall that one of his clones forewarned them about, though he scratches his head as he does so as he, “Hasn’t a fucking clue,” what it is. It’s a flat brown in in exterior finish; someone traveling through the tunnels in a hurry wouldn’t notice it, as the color camouflages it somewhat, apatetic to the dirt walls surrounding them on all sides. It’s also huge, almost Sasuke’s height and at least another five feet wide.

Sasuke runs his hand over it, checking to see if it’s still warm. 

“Not recently used,” he murmurs. Though he’s pretty sure he knows what it is from past experience, frowning in recall of Orochimaru’s labs, he looks to Sakura in question, as she is the mission captain and, more importantly, their resident hospital expert.

Sakura aims her own flashlight upwards as if she knows exactly where the logo will be.

Sure enough, there it is. Hokuetsu Industries, Gen 3 written in white over red, caution symbols, and a control panel.

“It’s a generator,” Sakura confirms quietly. “Hospital grade.”

XXX

All in all, they burn through another two rounds of food pills and caffeine stimulants before they finally trudge out the last hole entrance, roughly ten in the evening of the following day, generator reduced to nothing in the flames of Amaterasu behind them. There was no trace of either of the missing children. 

They’re all exhausted from roughly forty-eight hours of near non-stop travel, running on food pills and stimulants and emerging into a humid mess of a night across treetops. They’ve also utilized a significant chunk of chakra between the three of them. Still, it’s important that they get out of the immediate area as quickly as possible to avoid being seen and leaving any trace of their passing, so immediately following Sakura’s collapsing of the final tunnel, Sasuke and Naruto alternate between their transport abilities. They’re well into the central portion of the Land of Fire now, far away from farmland or border and surrounded by thick forest. They even go a touch further north, to make it appear as though they could simply be returning from an assignment to the Land of Rice or beyond.

“That,” Naruto gripes through a yawn as they begin to make camp, “Was fucking exhausting.” For once, Sasuke doesn’t think he’s complaining too much. Between the two of them, it was much faster than Sai’s birds, but repetitive use takes its toll, and his back is aching from maintaining a stooped position for such an extensive time frame. 

A rabbit emerges cautiously from the bushes as they line the premises in near exactly the same routine they did as Genin; with a well-aimed kunai, Sasuke pins it to a nearby tree mid-hop. Pausing briefly to ensure it’s been killed, he leaves it pinned there as they finish up. Sakura’s working dutifully on some traps at the edges of the perimeter as he finishes his own tasks. Using his Katon, he puts together the smallest amount of fire possible to cook with. 

It’s not a large kill, but it’s fresh. They should all eat at least a little bit of something that’s not food pills tonight, and it’s definitely better than rations.

He’s just started skinning it and has cleaned the first front leg when the dobe conks out a few yards beyond the other side of the fire, having been uncharacteristically quiet for the past five minutes as his eyes drooped. Naruto barely finishes crawling into his sleeping bag before his trademark snoring starts. It’s at least slightly quieter now than when they were kids, Sasuke supposes.

Sakura returns to the center of their camp around the same time, dusting her hands off and rolling a spool of clear trip wire back up prior to stashing it in her pack. She bites her thumb as Sasuke spears the first clean portion of the meat onto a wooden spit, putting it over the fire to start roasting.

A tiny slug appears on her shoulder, greeting softly, “Lady Sakura.” If the summon is surprised by the dirt caked to one of her cheeks, it doesn’t say so.

“Lady Katsuyu,” Sakura says quietly. “Please tell Kakashi-sensei that it’s done, and that we’ve made it out of the immediate area.”

The slug nods just once before poofing out of existence. 

Sakura then sighs, and comes to claim a seat on the ground near him, legs folding criss-cross and pulling out a kunai to help with the skinning and cleaning.

“That was a lot,” she breathes, echoing Naruto’s sentiment from earlier as he pops the joints of both back legs and hands them to her.

“It was,” he agrees, returning his attention to the task in his hand and far away from the netting clinging to her midriff, damp from sweat and humidity.“...Made good time, though.”

“We did,” Sakura agrees, slicing near a leg to peel the remaining bit of skin and fur off like a sock before adding it to the discard pile he’s started. She glances at Naruto briefly, body folded half into his sleeping bag in a position that can’t be comfortable. “Doing the advanced Body Flicker that many times must take a lot out of him. It’s disorienting to travel that way, I’ll admit. Your Rinnegan, too.” She pauses, then adds, “Still. Just like old times, huh?”

Sasuke nods in agreement, taking in her thoughtful expression. Despite the mission being relatively successful, he thinks she’s probably still worried about the missing kids. He is, too.

“...His snoring isn’t as loud anymore.

Sakura laughs a little, then heaves a sigh. 

“No. It’s not, thankfully.” She skins the other leg, chuckling again. “It got worse for a bit, actually; missions when we were sixteen were a horror. Kakashi-sensei used to stick those anti-snoring strips on his nose after he was out for the night.” She shrugs. “They work decently well. I think I still have one or two at the bottom of one of my mission bags, come to think of it. He sleeps lighter now than he used to, though; that might be why.”

Sasuke snorts and Sakura grins at him before she proceeds to clean the two legs she’s cleared of excess. He himself gets the other front limb he’s just finished cleaning on the spit, and rotates the previous one so that the flame can proceed to cook its other side. 

It’s nice to be out here with the both of them, even with the dobe sleeping, nostalgic crickets chirping in woods that look familiar as they recuperate a smidge beneath starlight. He makes the incision into the chest cavity of the rabbit and efficiently begins removing the innards. Sakura had disliked this part when they had begun to take missions outside of the village, he recalls in a moment of nostalgia, though after a few months of missions passed, she had gotten more accustomed to it. It’s somewhat ironic to think about that now, given she moves around body parts regularly as part of her work.

He makes sure to check the liver for spots when he finds it. There are none, thankfully. He’s hunted and prepared quite a few rabbits one-handed over the past couple of years, so it doesn’t take long to slice into the ribs and prepare the rest of the meat. He hands sections of it off to Sakura for cleaning as he slices away the surplus fat and bits.

Pretty soon they’ve finished the job, and have a small amount of meat in total to rotate over the spit. It’s not much to split between three people, but it’ll be good. Perhaps the smell will wake up the dobe; he always did stir at any smell of hot food when they were kids, even from the deepest of sleep.

He rises briefly to move the remains to a bush on the edge of their camp, left for whatever creature finds it. Some people eat the kidneys or livers of rabbits, he knows, but he doesn’t much care for them, and recalls from when they were kids that his teammates don’t like them, either. They’ll make a good snack for whatever animal happens upon them.

They then wash and sanitize their hands with supplies from their packs before resuming seats as far from the fire as the spit length will allow, on the opposite side of their previous spots so that they’re not sitting in any remnant entrails and Sasuke can turn the spit from its as yet untouched end, free of germs. It’s still much too hot, but Sasuke inwardly is just thankful that he’ll soon have a few bites of real food and also that his arm’s not aching again as of yet. He had thought coming out from the tunnel to the higher temperature might cause it to flare up again.

Naruto’s snoring has quieted more, now at their backs. Sasuke alternates between rotating the meal over the fire, the aroma of seared meat drifting into his nose, and taking drags from his canteen a few times before Sakura speaks.

“...Thank you for the iced tea,” she intones softly.

He blinks prior to looking her way, spit still in lone hand. She’s looking at him fondly, a small smile playing at her lips and light from the flame licking its way up her cheek. Her eyes look almost yellow in this lighting.

That smudge of dirt is still there, nearly covering up the freckle. It takes him a second before he remembers to finish what he was doing, turning the meat. There’s a sort of unplaceable tension saturating the air, a pleasant languor with which to stretch the muscles in the mirk. 

“...You’re welcome,” he whispers into the humid forest air, setting down the end of the spit to splash a little water on his thumb.

Her fine pink brows furrow as he reaches towards her cheek. He thinks her face reddens, too, and her eyes definitely widen, following the movement as he swipes the dirt away in a couple of strokes against her cheekbone.

Better, he thinks as he lets his hand linger there.  

He’s just about to pull back when a raspy voice clears its throat behind them.

“Hey, uh… guys?” The dobe questions, yawning halfway through the statement as Sakura flushes further, pupils flitting to where Naruto’s stretching upwards behind them. 

Sasuke drops his hand hastily, gaze rebounding to the small fire to rotate the spit again and hoping that the heat of it disguises the flush that’s creeping up his own neck at having been caught, despite it being entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” Naruto starts with a tone of voice Sasuke already knows he abhors. He sidles up to Sasuke’s other side so he’s within his line of sight and fucking winks at him. 

“Seems like I interrupted something, eh?” The idiot chuckles as Sasuke levels him with his most murderous scowl and uses his foot to shove him away, churlish. He then returns his focus to the meat nearing its completion, refusing to dignify what he said with a response. 

Naruto only laughs louder while somehow still sounding sleepy, sealing his fate, because Sasuke is going to make sure the idiot is eating his share of the rabbit last.

“Oh, man! Teme, your fucking FACE! Just wait until Kakashi-sensei hears about this!”

XXX

The journey back to Konoha is a grueling few days in the heat. They shift into mostly early evening traveling through the night to make use of the slightly lowered temperature, having slept in a bit to recover after that first night of camping in the woods. 

It’s hugely refreshing when the heat breaks in exchange for a quick rainstorm at the tail end of their trip, clysmic, late Saturday night turning into early Sunday morning. The mizzle washes away a minuscule portion of grime from the past few days. They cross through the vaguely brumous to a quenched forest on the other side, humidity finally easing into something more bearable. It would have been nice if it had happened sooner, but Sasuke supposes he’ll take what he can get. 

A dog - he suspects it is one of the Inuzukas’ - howls when they’re a mile off, lazy and echoing atop the whispering of the breeze through the leaves. 

It’s extremely fulfilling to return as part of his original team, Naruto's tendency to get on his nerves aside. He pays close attention to the way each of his steps feel, firm and grounded, as they pass through the gates. 

It’s well beyond two in the morning, but it’s possible Kakashi might still be in his office as of yet, so the three of them make their way to Hokage Tower to report in.

Sakura pauses for a moment once she's opened the door, leading the way. It doesn't take her much time to recover; she's foraying into the room, and as Sasuke trails after both her and Naruto, he sees why.

Shizune, apparently, has returned from wherever she was to assist Kakashi again. It's of interest, given it's so late, though Sasuke wouldn’t put it past their Hokage to have become detrimentally behind on paperwork. She sits across from Kakashi directly at his desk, in a spare chair instead of at Naruto's usual spot. If he didn't know better, he'd say they were having a debriefing rather than working on matters of office maintenance.

"Shizune!!" Naruto greets cheerfully, bounding forward in greeting. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How long are you back for? Does this mean you’re gonna help Kakashi-sensei with all his paperwork so I don’t have to anymore?!”

"Shizune," his other teammate echoes, more calm and not seeming surprised in the slightest to see her here. Perhaps Sakura has kept in touch with her, wherever she’s been.

The brown haired woman returns his smile, pen in one hand and a document in another. "Sakura, Naruto. It’s good to see you both. And yes, I’ll help a little, while I’m here." Her eyes linger on them before she addresses Sasuke, also, which surprises him given he's never spoken to her outright. "Sasuke."

"Ah," Kakashi drawls. "Welcome back. I thought you three might return tonight." He motions to Shizune and the papers between them. "Shizune just got back this evening, also. We had much to discuss, regarding pursuits in Wind. Lost track of time."

Wind? 

"Yes," Shizune says, twirling the pen in her hand and eyes lingering on Naruto and then Sakura. "Things are going well. Hokage-sama says the same of here." The woman pauses, briefly seeming to take in all of their state of dress, dirty clothes still slightly damp from the brief rain, prior to adding, “I have some things for you, Sakura, from Tsunade-sama, but I’ll get them to you later since you just got back.”

Sakura nods before procuring the documentation and the scroll from her pack to return to Kakashi.

“I’ll have my report in tomorrow,” she murmurs as she hands them over. “But everything went well. No trouble.” She frowns. “No sign of the kids either, though. We did find a generator. Hospital grade.”

Shizune seems befuddled. “A generator?” When Sasuke briefly shifts focus to Kakashi, he seems entirely unsurprised by this information.

Sakura nods in the affirmative in Shizune’s direction, then returns her attention to Kakashi. “Sasuke took care of it.”

“I see. Well, hopefully we’ve nipped whoever it was in the bud.” He smiles beneath the mask, making sure to make eye contact briefly with both Naruto and Sasuke as well before moving his attention back to Sakura. “Your reports are always thorough, so I won’t keep you too long. Thank you all for taking care of this so swiftly and efficiently. I doubt such a quick response would have been possible, otherwise.”

The three of them nod in unison, and Kakashi’s smile shifts wider. 

“Well done, Team Seven. Dismissed.”

Shizune makes no effort to rise and leave with them; whatever’s going on in Wind, they must have additional matters to discuss. Sasuke hopes it’s not anything bad; he’s coming to rather enjoy peacetime.

As the doors close behind them and they begin to make their way down the stairs, Naruto bounds ahead of them. 

“Well, this was pretty much the best mission ever aside from not getting to fight anyone and my back basically being broken from stooping like an old man, but I gotta get home to Hinata-chan; she’s probably kinda worried since I didn’t know when we’d be back.” He turns around to face both of them, angling around the second floor landing briefly and waving. “See you guys later!”

The dobe then flies down the last flight of stairs and out the door as they continue behind him at a slower pace. Sasuke’s not sure where Naruto still has the energy for that, following a mission. He himself is pretty enervated, though more in the sense of his body is fatigued than being tired enough to sleep.

Sakura shakes her head as they make it to the main floor, catching the door in their teammate’s wake just before it closes. When they step outside, Sasuke sees Naruto’s already all the way down the road, blipping out of sight.

“I don’t know where he has the energy, after all that,” Sakura remarks from his right, wearing a bemused expression. 

“...I don’t, either.” They step into the street, taking the main road the short direction east. It seems to him that they’ll walk together until they reach the road that splits in direction to their respective apartments.

“At least the heat has broken, it seems,” she says somewhat conversationally. Sasuke nods, blinking, because he figured she’d be in a hurry to get home, but the pace she’s setting is kind of slow. This is far beyond her normal sleeping hours. At least it’s Sunday; she’ll hopefully still have the day off despite missing the majority of her work week. He frowns, then, because he hopes she doesn’t have too much she’ll have to catch up on. 

“...It has,” he murmurs finally, agreeing. It’s actually kind of nice outside now, faint stars dotting the darkened sky. There’s a hush blanketed over everything this late that’s incredibly calming when paired with the feeling of coming home.

He thinks he can see gears turning behind jade eyes as they amble on in the quiet, desaturated in the small amount of light cast from the occasional streetlight every block corner. The moon is a thin crescent above them, offering little reflected luminescence.

Sakura looks up at him, then, and suddenly her expression has turned both shy and evocatively familiar; he’s pulled disorientedly to childhood, to their Genin days, and the things Sakura would always ask him following the completion of missions.

“I was thinking… Maybe we could do something. If you’re not too tired, that is. Or…” Her voice trails off, set of her mouth shifting as she looks forward.

“...You’re not?” He questions softly, hopefully, as his pulse quickens. 

She shakes her head, flyaway strands of pink hair spreading outward slightly from the distance they’ve just traveled and the breeze. Her gaze is still locked forward. “No, I’m always too wired to sleep after missions that go late like this. I’ll be up for a while,” she divulges softly, barely audible in the slight breeze coupled with the sound of crickets rubbing their wings together.

For some reason, the way in which she speaks catches his attention even more than it usually does, as if something is special about whatever she’s thinking of saying. 

It then occurs to him that she might be expecting him to say no, whatever it is.

“I will be, too,” he admits, in near a rush to get the words out now. It’s the truth, unless he were to… indulge. Though now that he’s thinking of it, he thinks days’ worth of dirt and sweat rinsed by a short rain presumably still doesn’t smell the best. “...I should shower first,” he adds quickly, before questioning quietly, “What were you thinking?”

Her gaze flickers to him hopefully, and he relaxes a little, thinking he’s gotten the message across. He expects her to challenge him to chess, or perhaps to invite him to watch another bad movie on her sofa. 

“It’s nice out,” she observes softly instead, looking briefly to the sky. In the pause that follows, nearing the ever-closer intersection where they’ll part ways, he comes to predict perhaps another short hike to the place in the woods where they stargazed previously, or maybe a trip to the training grounds they sometimes eat at.

“We could…” she begins, gaze traveling to him and then away as her cheeks darken further. “...Have tea on the balcony. If…” 

Her voice tapers off again, and he tries to smother his heart’s rampant pumping through sheer willpower alone. 

“Just… if you want to, that is,” she finishes, a diffident expression painting her face as she shifts her shoulders slightly in a way that seems anxious.

“Yes,” he agrees promptly, barely allowing the pause normally appropriate for wait time, unwilling to give her any doubts of his assent. He further cements it by adding, “I would.”

Her focus shifts back to him, and the unsureness is gone; in its place, a breathtaking smile overtakes her features. Sasuke is, for about the millionth time in his life, struck by the thought that the choices he made when they were younger, driving her and everyone else far away, were incredibly fucking stupid.

“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll go shower, too, then. You can come over when you’re done.”

He nods, feeling winded in a way that has nothing to do with the fatigue of the miles they covered over the past few days.

It’s difficult for him to quite recall the movements that follow, in retrospect. He knows they make it to the far intersection in an easy, short-lived silence, splitting ways at the library with her heading south and him heading north, and then before he realizes it, he’s at his door already. Stripping off his gear and clothing seems to happen in the blink of an eye, and he’s in the shower. As he scrubs away the grime and sweat, his mind travels to the recent past, a lengthy ablution at an inn just upon returning. It feels a little like that at present, as if something has been dislodged and is in the process of falling away. He breathes in deeply, then exhales, over and over and over until he thinks he’s perhaps carved a foothold. 

Once he’s toweled off, he redresses in simple black clothing as always, though it’s a clean pair. He brushes his teeth, too, though he barely feels the bristles against his gums with how unsteady he is in anticipation. It reminds him of being a passenger on a boat, the changing center of gravity the waves bring as the vessel departs from the relative safety of the shore. 

It feels like he’s about to do something important, he realizes once he’s past the diamond window, now faced with the stairs that ascend upwards to her doorway and sea of thriving plants. 

It’s just her room, he scolds himself inwardly, inhaling deeply and exhaling with his lone hand on the doorknob prior to letting himself in.

“Sakura,” he calls quietly in greeting into an apartment lit by only one lamp instead of its customary three; the one in the living room is scattering soft golden light across the light wood.

A damp head of pink hair pokes out from the kitchen area as he shifts his sandals onto the rug. 

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets, eyes swimming with affection. “I’m almost done heating the water. Is Earl Gray okay?”

He nods, making his way nearer the kitchen and not adding anything further; she knows how he takes his tea. Her small form disappears back to the kitchen, and he stands in the space at its edge, the precipice between it and her living room, nerves choosing now to begin eating him alive.

He absently looks out her dining table window, but it doesn't help; he sees now, hyperaware in a way that he wasn’t on the walk here, that the lights are off in all of the windows of the surrounding buildings. Not a soul is up, and there is almost no light outside, given the waning moon. He feels timid, alone with her in her apartment this late at night after all of her neighbors have gone to bed. Sasuke has often sought the comfort of being a creature of routine, having found over the years that it helps to ground him, a cautious way of coping. This is new territory. 

It’s just her room, he thinks again as he watches Sakura shuffle around her kitchen in clean lounge clothes, pouring coconut milk cream and sugar into her own mug of Earl Gray. He knows this is entirely innocent, but his neck warms all the same.

She passes his mug to him once it’s ready, smiling and smelling of mixed berry soap, and then turns the corner, heading down the hallway to her room. He shadows her tentatively, struggling to swat down the nervousness in his ribs; it feels like a wolf’s mouth has opened up there to consume him.

Three things become conspicuous to him as Sakura shoulders her bedroom door open and the internal snarling quiets.

One: it is so utterly, predictably Sakura to paint the walls of her bedroom the exact same color as her front door. He should have known; hadn’t he recently speculated that she wears her heart on her sleeve? The mid-tone sage green coats the interior, calming as ever. He finds he likes the color here even moreso than he likes it as the adorning color of her door. 

Two: the general layout of the room is simple, organized pragmatically as he’d expected. There is a closet to the left, and white furniture that looks aged: a white dresser, several small shelves mounted on the wall, as well as a small vanity with a chair towards the corner, just to the left of what must be the balcony doors.

Three: the ability to breathe has vacated his body, and it is not just her room. 

He's overcome by such a sudden surge of affection and devotion for her that he almost can't see straight, tempestuousness of something else, something profoundly deep-seated and absolute, arching into his throat from where it’s been aching to grow for the better portion of eight years, weighted down by blood and tragedy. He has to blink to clear his eyes and snatch his lower lip with his teeth before it trembles in full.

The uchiwa fan sits there, not at all stored away in a box, but instead on salient display, carefully balanced atop a traditional-looking stand she must have found for it.

It looks like it belongs there.

He had worried for months, prior to returning and giving it to her, tracing the place where her name was engraved and the empty space above it, that it wasn’t right; that it was an entirely impractical gift, too teeming with history and unfair to saddle her with.

To have it displayed so prominently signifies that it is of grand importance to her. A comb of a similar color - it’s hard to tell in the low light - lies on the opposite far side of the furniture's surface, and he knows instantaneously that it means the fan is in view always when she sits there, that she gazes at it every time she brushes her hair.

It thus dawns on him why their team photo appeared in her living room, the second time he'd been over. He bites his lip back again.

Oh.

I'll treasure it. Always, she'd said, and she'd meant it. He hadn't doubted the truth of her words by any means - he knows that Sakura means what she says, and always has - but seeing the evidence and action of it is acutely saccharine. He knows what that photo means to all of them, so for her to replace it with his gift for her is…

It's tremendously difficult for him to focus on anything else in the room after that, but he does try, because if he doesn’t, the blur in his eyes is going to escalate. 

The far wall has a single window, along with the balcony's sliding glass door; both are covered with gauzy white curtains, thick enough to offer privacy but thin enough to allow a little light in during the daylight hours. Her bed is to the right, framed by white end tables and small lamps; a book sits atop the one on the right side. 

He notes her bed is large, big enough for two people and overlaid with a textured lavender comforter.

For now. The words echo at the edge of the ossuaries that are his memories.

He looks away from it after that realization. 

Sakura crosses the room and shifts the curtains out of the way of the balcony sliding door. As she opens it, she casts jade eyes back at him, smiling, so beautiful; he can barely make out the curve of it against the edge of her cheek in the dark. 

Sasuke follows.

Her vast array of potted plants line the balcony on all sides, daisies and azalea and others he’s too distracted to identify, though he notes there’s also a bird feeder in the left rear corner closest to the building. The greenery encloses the railing nearly entirely all the way around, overgrown in full now that summer has arrived. This doesn’t affect the view when standing, but he realizes that if someone were to sit down, it would effectively block the light from the streetlights on the corner, eliminating light pollution to view the sky unencumbered. There’s scarcely enough room for two people to sit with some leverage to stretch their legs forward.

Sakura picks up two sizable outdoor cushions propped against the building and lays them out, then sits down on the right side. Placing her own tea on the concrete next to her, she holds her hand up to take his mug, offering him a small smile, one that he also thinks looks a little nervous. 

He hands it to her and wordlessly takes the cushion next to her, submerging into a desaturated world of celadon and viridian, the smell of raspberries and verdure cocooning them both. It's closer than they usually sit, but he’s more than okay with it at the present.

Sakura casts a pleased smile his way, handing his mug back ahead of a sip from her own, eyes turning upward.

He’s too out of sorts to drink something right now, so he sets down the mug in favor of following her gaze, and normally he would enjoy this as its own dedicated activity, but he's still reeling in the grandest way from seeing the fan displayed in her room, as if it's something of great pride, a treasure. 

She really loves it, he realizes.

And…

She’s already looking at him when his gaze floats back down to her of its own accord, as if drawn like a magnet.

She wants to say something, he thinks in the pause. She flushes a little, but maintains eye contact. 

"It’s good to be home," she breathes finally. Her eyes are so lovely, even with no light, alive and looking at him with adoration. 

I’ll treasure it. Always.

"...It is," He agrees quietly, voice thick, before leaning in. 

They share a kiss under constellations rolled atop burnished and blackened silk, his hand rising to her cheek. He thinks he likes this particular activity better than looking at them, though he finds himself remembering his first night back in the village, observing the stars and how he thought they appeared the same as everywhere else.

He was wrong, he understands as her hand traces its way up his nape and into his hair. They are better here with her on her balcony than anywhere he's traveled.

When they part for air, he stares at her unabashedly, admiring her and trying to steel his resolve, as he has never done what he’s about to do and has no concept, really, of how to go about it correctly; he just knows that he wants to, and if he doesn’t, his chest is surely going to combust under the sovereign pressure of it, the sensation of words he’s long swallowed trying to fight their way out. Sakura’s cheeks darken further under his continued gaze, and he wonders unbidden if she’s thought about kissing him more than chastely. Women must think about this sort of thing, too, right?

Her fingers dwell in place, leaving fingerprints against his occipital. But no, not really. Any occasion she touches him, it’s never been about that. 

It’s been his heart she’s touching, every time.

Her eyes, trusting, flicker briefly to his mouth, her own lips parted, and that’s what sparks him into action. 

He slots his lips to hers anew. There’s a bit more pressure this go-around; he’s still gentle, but more assertive, aspiring to summon the confidence he lacks. Sakura exhales a little through her nose, fingers finding further purchase at his nape.

He keeps it chaste for a second longer as his heart threatens to crack out of his sternum.

Then, he hesitantly opens his mouth a little against hers, tongue probing her bottom lip gently as his thumb swipes against the freckle atop her cheek.

Her lip arches upwards after only a millisecond of delay, akin to ages according to his frayed nerves, tongue meeting his, yearning reciprocated with clearly equal intensity and shyness. The degree to which it affects him physically throws him; his heart doubles its previous pace, which is a feat, and his neck burns, too, as if he really has burst into flame. It’s more sensual than their other kisses, tender and much better than he’d imagined. She tastes like her cup of tea, novitious, mellifluous fruit and rind and malty dashed with coconut milk creamer and bergamot.

Their noses bump together, because the angle isn’t quite right for this type of kissing. Parting for a breath, Sasuke angles her cheek a little more intuitively, still careful and without enough push that she could pull away if she wanted to. 

She doesn’t, though. Their tongues meet fully this time, and he begins to burn in a different way, because this kiss is incandescent, intimate, much like the ones he shares with her in dreams he’ll never admit to anyone he has, the ones where he wakes up panting with the compulsion to kiss her, down, down, until she cries out. It’s passionate yet gentle all at once, but principally, it is all-consuming. He knows in an instant, the thought fleeting as he has more important things to consider at the present, that this will only serve to add fuel to the fire, ensorcelling him into a dire appetence for more.

The pressure at his nape increases as Sakura pulls him closer, tongue dancing fervidly against his, boldly venturing a little further into his mouth before drawing back. He involuntarily makes a low noise in his throat, and she grips him tighter for it, pulling him to her again, fingers threading through his hair as if she can’t get enough.

They’re both out of breath when they finally part for oxygen. Sakura’s pupils are blown so wide that there’s hardly a speck of grayed out green to be found in them, and even soaked in scant silver light - he briefly praises his good eyesight - it’s clear that she’s wearing a lambent blush that rivals even the richest of rutilant reds, highly contrasting against closed daisies and flushed azaleas.

The stars and his brother’s eyes lend him some confidence, he learns as he leans down again for more, nose nuzzling hers briefly before their lips reconvene. 

Sakura exhales breathily, and it’s incipiency, lashes fluttering, so close he can feel their whisper against his own cheek. He moves to slide his fingers through her hair, weaving through silken pink still slightly damp. Her breath hitches at the touch, and that is something else entirely, a sonance that seems to reverberate down the catacombs of his spine through her fingers at his atlas as she nips at his lower lip from a new angle. It feels like something in him is unraveling, her tongue tugging snared knots from a red thread cordiform.

He leans down again and again, until they’re not parting at all, really, dizzily sharing each breath and something adamantine that he knows he feels but is afraid to put into words. 

The tea sits beside them, long since cooled and almost entirely untouched, even when the barest hint of the dawning begins to augment across the horizon. 

They are too busy kissing to care.

#22k who am i?? #this one really got away from me tbh #naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #sasuke #sakura

[mariacallous]

Is liking Ayn Rand a personality defect? Before she was the godmother of American libertarianism, Rand was a writer known for insisting on the virtue and beauty of self-interest. To her admirers, her books, including “The Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged,” celebrate exceptional men and women who make their own flourishing a moral imperative. To her detractors, Rand’s novels, as Lisa Duggan writes in her 2019 study “Mean Girl: Ayn Rand and the Culture of Greed,” glamorize rapacity and violence; they grant happy endings to characters who showcase “contempt for lesser beings and a cool indifference to their suffering”; and they “provide a structure of feeling—optimistic cruelty—that . . . underwrites the form of capitalism on steroids that dominates the present.”

Since Rand’s death, in 1982, she has been embraced by tech billionaires (Peter Thiel, Steve Jobs, Elon Musk), free-market politicians (Ronald Reagan, Clarence Thomas, Rand Paul), and their acolytes. Elsewhere, she has become a pop-cultural bogeyman, ridiculous but unkillable. Find her on “The Simpsons” (“Russian weirdo Ayn Rand”), “Parks and Recreation” (“a terrible writer”), “Girls,” “Watchmen,” and “The Mindy Project,” invariably dressed as a menace or a punch line. The presence of “Atlas Shrugged” or “The Fountainhead” on a bedside table or Tinder profile is a waving red flag—reliable shorthand for latent sociopathy. A friend, in order to lend me a copy of “Atlas Shrugged” for this piece, stowed the paperback in a manila folder that she then stapled shut and handed off to my partner at their mutual workplace. He smuggled it down the hall and into his bag. “I didn’t think I’d get fired” if anyone saw the book, he explained, “but it wouldn’t look great.”

In “The Book of Ayn,” a novel by Lexi Freiman, Rand takes on a new role: North Star for the cancelled. Anna, a mid-career writer who comes from money, has just published a “contrarian” novel about the opioid epidemic, a satire of the rural poor full of “bad haircuts,” “misspelled tattoos,” and pants-shitting. “I had honestly believed I was writing a book so good it metabolized its own badness,” Anna explains, somewhat touchingly. Instead of the acclaim she expects, Anna gets dropped by her publisher and ghosted by her friends; even her old prep school rejects a last-ditch job application. On Twitter, she is enjoined to jump off the balcony of her pied-à-terre on Madison Avenue and to use her novel as a parachute.

Worst of all, a review in the New York Times suggests that Anna is that current-day bête noire, a “narcissist.” Devastated, Anna borrows a friend’s book on narcissism and reads that narcissists are “selfish, arrogant, and insecure,” “grandiose and fragile and incapable of handling any threat to their identity,” and that they “saw themselves reflected back everywhere, made grand narratives of their lives, but felt at their core that they were empty.”

To Anna’s horror, the descriptions remind her of herself. She is empty, she realizes. She doesn’t believe in anything; all she can do is make fun of people. Seeking a counternarrative, Anna gloms on to a tour group discussing Ayn Rand in a coffee shop and, soon after, orders a bundle of her works. She’s immediately enthralled. The books argue that “selfishness was a form of care” and that “wealth was a beautiful thing.” They claim that “true freedom lived . . . in the breaking of bonds and severing of ties.” As Anna reads, she feels her weaknesses becoming strengths. Her selfishness, she realizes, is radically ethical. She may not get invited to parties anymore, but she wouldn’t enjoy them anyway—she’s too radiantly liberated.

In “The Culture of Narcissism,” his famous 1979 study, Christopher Lasch writes that the narcissist can only overcome insecurity “by seeing his ‘grandiose self’ reflected in the attentions of others.” Freiman slyly casts Rand as Anna’s “grandiose self,” the mask she pulls on over her pain and vulnerability. Anna, you might say, has suffered a narcissistic injury and is turning to Rand to preserve her positive self-image.

An elderly millennial in the shitposting era, Anna shrouds her new obsession in layers of self-protective irony. Rand’s ideas give her solace, and being a “ ‘Randgirl,’ ” in scare quotes, appeals to her contrarianism, her desire to provoke and outrage the commenters who want her to jump off a balcony. When Rand was in her late thirties, she moved from New York to Hollywood to write for the big screen. Anna decides to follow in her footsteps. She decamps for Los Angeles and reinvents herself as a television writer, pitching a sitcom, inspired by “Bojack Horseman” (although she swears it’s not), about a farm animal named Ayn Ram. Even as Anna hopes to rehabilitate her hero for a contemporary audience, she places some distance between herself and her subject by wrapping Rand in the soft wool of humor—a defense mechanism that Freiman suggests originates in a tragedy in her early life. When Anna was three, her infant brother died “for no reason” in his sleep. Provocation “smoothed the edges,” she says, a fleece that muffled the sharpness of loss.

With its undercurrent of childhood trauma, “The Book of Ayn” evokes Mary Gaitskill’s classic treatment of the Randgirl plot, “Two Girls, Fat and Thin,” from 1991. That book’s narrator, Dorothy, imprints on a Rand-like character named Anna Granite after being abused and molested by her father as a teen-ager. “By the time I was seventeen, I had a very negative view of life, and a horrific view of sex,” Dorothy tells Justine, a journalist writing an article on Granite and her fans. When she discovered Granite’s books, Dorothy says, “suddenly a whole different way of looking at life was presented to me.” Ostracized at school, she draws comfort from Granite’s depictions of “proud outcasts . . . surrounded by the cold glow of their genius and grace.” In bed with her father, she clings to a dream of “strong, contemptuous beauty . . . indifferent to anything but itself and its own growth.” Dorothy comes to believe in a philosophy called Definitism—Gaitskill’s thinly veiled version of Objectivism, the doctrine developed by Rand—and it confers on Dorothy the power and value that she believes herself to lack; Granite herself seems to nurture the girl in loco parentis. As a college student, Dorothy buys an interstate bus ticket to attend one of Granite’s speaking events and imagines her idol, how “she would look at me and know everything I’d endured.” At the lecture, she weeps uncontrollably, convinced at last that she is “damn strong,” that she is “worth something.”

“The Book of Ayn” and “Two Girls, Fat and Thin” plead for sympathy for the Randgirl. Like Freiman’s Anna, Gaitskill’s Dorothy is a case study in vulnerable narcissism and, ultimately, a figure of pity. She retreats from the world and into daydreams about Oz and Never-Never Land, epic tales in which she plays the hero. She hides behind delusions of grandeur, raging when Justine asks her “stupid” questions. These are broken people to be handled with gentleness, the novels seem to argue.

But, in fact, both books have a more subversive intent: to trouble the distinction between Randians and everyone else. In “Two Girls, Fat and Thin,” Justine, the freelance journalist who interviews Dorothy, is disgusted by Granite’s ideas. She’s identified as “neurotic” and Dorothy is not; the contrast between them conjures Freud’s dichotomy between pliable patients who obediently adopt the terminology of their analysts and difficult patients who prove too self-absorbed to undergo transference. But Justine, who, unlike Dorothy, is pretty, thin, and popular, incarnates Rand’s notion of the beautiful brute more than Dorothy does. As a girl, she picked on schoolmates who had fewer friends; at one point, transported by “swelling arrogance” and “boiling greed,” she sexually abused a weaker child with a toothbrush. The more Gaitskill reveals about her characters, the more they blur together, as both selfish and selfless at once.

In her penetrating monograph “The Selfishness of Others: An Essay on the Fear of Narcissism,” Kristin Dombek describes a narcissistic behavior called “splitting,” wherein the narcissist idealizes that which soothes him and discards that which causes him pain. “Splitting” is also the main structural mechanism of the two novels—and a mental trap that both their protagonists and their readers must resist. Like “Two Girls,” “The Book of Ayn” is built on a seemingly clean division: Part 1 tells the story of Anna’s intoxication with Rand; in Part 2, Anna, breaking violently with Objectivism, goes to a meditation camp on the Greek island of Lesbos to try to murder her ego. Freiman’s Los Angeles is a cesspit of superficiality and selfishness, but the “Beloveds,” as the cultists who run the retreat in Greece call themselves, aren’t much better. The group’s master is known for his collection of three hundred and fifty Harley Davidsons and for releasing “a vicious strain of European bee into the hostile neighboring farmland.” Other seekers at the commune steal Anna’s clothes, cheat on their partners, and neglect their children. Anna, unconsciously emulating Rand, begins a love affair with a much younger man, a refugee from an unspecified war-torn country. Life on the commune can’t heal the effects of his “hard-core trauma,” he tells her. Only Hollywood can; he longs to “try the acting.”

So is everyone a delusional, self-serving, trauma-masking Randian narcissist at heart? You could call that the lesson of the Randgirl novels, although you’d be underselling their sweetness. The books mock their characters, but they also argue that egoism can be nourishing and even generative. Gaitskill’s treatment of Anna Granite, for instance, is unexpectedly sympathetic. When Dorothy first meets her idol, the older woman models kindness and empathy. Dorothy panics, unable to speak; Granite, Dorothy says, “stood and gripped my shoulders with both hands . . . her eyes radiated the gentlest strength I had ever experienced, her tough, hot, callusy hands supported me with the full intensity of her life.” Granite tells Dorothy that she can see her suffering but also her resilience and value. She offers her a job. Because Granite has willed herself to believe in her own worth, Gaitskill hints, she is alive to the worth in others. And, in awakening Dorothy to her own inner resources, Granite awakens the young woman’s sense of her fellow-humans as sovereign selves. In the hours before Granite’s lecture, Dorothy is transfixed by passing faces: “the jowls, the eye wrinkles, the bumpy noses, the flower-petal quality of young female skin.” When Dorothy was in college, individuals had streamed together into a monolithic threat. But “as I walked among the citizens of Philadelphia,” she says, “I felt as though I occupied a compartment of personal space that they instinctively respected as I respected theirs.”

Freiman finds less to salvage in Rand’s life or work, but the novel is rightly skeptical of the wellness industry’s promises to subdue the demands of selfhood. After failing to make a TV show and then failing to kill her ego, Anna takes stock. She comes to realize that she can’t write without self-esteem—and that writing, more than being a contrarian or even a good person, is her vocation. “There was only one thing that ever helped me,” she says. “One thing that had always been there, strung up at the threshold of my mind like tiny golden lights, enchanting me into life, dangling its whimsy and warm lozenges of hope.” This thing is writing—“only writing promised me happiness, or at the very least progress”—and the type of writing Anna wants to do, voicey and spiky and singular, requires an “I.”

Unlike the self-aggrandizer, the artist, Freiman implies, uses her “I” as an alloy, creating a material both durable and porous, blending what she has felt to be true with what she imagines might be true for others. The writing that Anna intuits will save her dangles at the “threshold” of her mind because it directs her both in and out. Throughout the novel, as she flails around trying to fill her perceived emptiness, what she fills it with are the words, ideas, and lives of roommates, romantic partners, Internet commenters, friends, influencers, yoga instructors, cult members, Antifa activists, and embarrassing conservative philosophers. She reads their books, goes to their events, and stays in their homes. By the end, her “I” has been vastly expanded: other people live in her head, whether she wants them to or not, shaping the innermost contours of her self. This vision of identity as plural means that self-assertion does not necessarily come at the expense of the rest of the world. It could even be a declaration of life on another’s behalf.

Both Freiman and Gaitskill play up the Möbius-strip aspect to selfishness and selflessness—when I stand up for me, they suggest, I am also standing up for you, because we are intertwined. At their most persuasive, though, the Randgirl novels don’t applaud the morality of self-interest so much as they paint self-absorption as a useful but transient phase. Freud characterized narcissism as a form of arrested development. The narcissist, instead of sprouting healthy attachments to others, remains stranded in the oceanic self-involvement of infancy. Gaitskill and Freiman rescue this creature from a state of frozen pathology, returning her to her rightful place within a developmental stage. Dorothy and Anna, perhaps, are just passing through necessary bouts of self-infatuation on their way to maturity. Late in “Two Girls,” Justine comes to appreciate the role that Granite played for Dorothy, even as she believes that Dorothy has outgrown Granite:

When you read Granite’s work not only did she awaken your sense of beauty and pleasure in life, not only did she illustrate for you a positive use of strength and power, but she provided a springboard for you to create an internal world richer and stronger than the external world which wasn’t giving you any support at all. But she was only the departure point.

Instead of a bogeyman or a red flag, maybe Rand is just a set of training wheels, or a trellis on which characters can temporarily support their unfurling selves. “Everybody had a moment of loving Ayn Rand,” Anna’s mother tells her—it’s a low point for our Randgirl, but a reassurance to readers, who are happy to welcome this lost sheep back into the herd. ♦

[emmalostinwonderland]

WIP Wednesday

Alright, I finally have a good section of this Stuckony Medieval Knights AU that's perfect for pulling a snippet from! This is part of my @fandomtrumpshate fill for @massivespacewren which I'm aiming to have fully posted to Ao3 by the end of November. Anyway, enjoy!

"I’ve missed your counsel, old friend.”

Obadiah flags down a passing servant to refill his goblet with mead. “It seemed to me you managed to bring the war to a close just fine without me, Tony.”

“Careful now, you almost sound bitter about it,” Tony says with a laugh. “This can only be good for us- for the kingdom!”

“Bitter? Not at all, not at all. Peacetime is always a good thing.”

“Certainly. The fewer men I can send to a battlefield to die every year, the better.”

“Of course, Tony. Now, I do wonder what you’re planning on doing going forward with…”

Tony tunes him out. He’s much too caught up in the swell of the music and the slight buzz from the mead to bother paying attention to politics and finances– and really, who could blame him? His gaze drifts over Obie’s shoulder and quickly lands on the most radiantly beautiful stranger he’s ever seen. 

The man’s handsome face is framed by soft locks of golden hair, and his eyes are bluer than a winter morning sky. Even from so far away, Tony can tell he towers over most of the guests. He’s looking around the room with furrowed brows, clearly searching for someone, and Tony can’t help but picture smoothing out the ridges with his fingertips. 

The stranger must catch sight of who he’s looking for because his expression brightens as he begins to cross to the other side of the room. Tony tracks his eyeline until he lands on another unfairly beautiful man standing by one of the many tables of food. He’s just as tall as the first stranger, though his hair is darker and falls in waves down to his shoulders. His eyes are also a stunning shade of blue, which Tony can see clearly… given that he’s looking right at him.

The first man steps up behind the other and puts an arm around his shoulders, speaking quietly to him. The brunet leans into the touch, unbothered by their public display, before replying quickly to his companion, and soon enough Tony has the unwavering attention of both men from across the banquet hall. The first studies him with curious interest, and the second openly looks him up and down. Tony grins back at them. Perhaps he should go introduce himself…

“Are you even listening? It’s important that you-“

Tony cuts his advisor off abruptly. “Obie, I refuse to discuss business at a banquet like this. You need to loosen up! Drink, dance, be merry. We can focus on the future when the future comes, no?”

FTH mods- I triple checked the FAQ to see if this was okay, but if posting snippets/teasers is against the rules and I somehow missed it, just let me know, and I'll take this down right away!

#stucky #stevebucky #stony #stevetony #winteriron #buckytony #stuckony #stevebuckytony #captain america #iron man #mcu fanfiction #wip wednesday #knights au

[dxppercxdxver]

tagged by @chiropteracupola a rather long while ago for this ao3 tag game (we are ignoring my play analysis teacher right now so might as well look at my fic writin' stats!)

ao3 name: mxpauling (tho this changes rather frequently!)

fandoms: in terms of fandoms Published On AO3, the greatest number are for detroit: become human and subsequent fan film detroit: evolution, due to my feverish participation in the deartfest fan event summer of 2020 (in which i wrote well over a novel's worth of words in. approximately a month.), but others represented include: team fortress 2 (specifically of the flintlock fortress variety), mystery science theater 3000, spies are forever, hadestown, the true lives of the fabulous killjoys, and some smaller one off fandoms (deathtrap, the moors, goncharov, the wolf and the watchman, and where or when)

number of works: 28! which is. a Lot higher than i remembered it being

work I spent the most time on: fairly certain it's 'leave your body at the door' as it was written over the course of about four months, which for me (guy with formerly wildly unmedicated adhd) was Insane

works I spent the least time on: oof uhhhh i mean i've written Several in the course of just a few hours, like 'cut something, kill something, eat something', 'i can't stand to see you bleed', 'don't give it a hand, offer it a soul', and 'old churchyard', amongst MANY OTHERS THAT ARE OLDER (and i didn't feel like copying)

longest fic: first place goes again to 'leave your body at the door' but coming as a close runner-up is 'Potentially Lovely, Perpetually Human', from way back in the de days

shortest fic: '(i feel) an overwhelming need', my recent the moors character study

most hits: this would be 'Out Of The Blue', due to its featuring in the octopunk monthly roundup at the end of deartfest. turns out, a built in Massive Stream Audience will bring people to your fic

most kudos: once again, 'Out Of The Blue', for much the same reasons

total word count: 144,556???????? (sorry this is NEWS TO ME)

favorite work of my own: a lot of them have already been featured in this list, so i will take this space to spotlight both 'Try Again, Die Again' (i am so proud of the premise) and 'Where the Sun Can't Find Me' (i really liked the prose in this one and am genuinely super pleased rereading it)

fic you want to rewrite / expand on: oof there are Several: i had a halfway plotted third installment of the killjoys: dead zone series about the girl and show pony settling into a new life in batt city that i'd really want to revisit someday; i'd love to restructure and rewrite 'Potentially Lovely, Perpetually Human' to make the pacing a bit more consistent; i have an incomplete fourth fic in the spytown logs series i want to come back to; and for the sake of space and time i want to redo the end of 'Out Of The Blue' because my God it's rushed

share a bit of a wip or story idea you are planning on: changing tacks Entirely. behold my bill & ted fanfiction you cowards

Everything is perfectly, totally sublime, another freakin’ awesome day in San Dimas. And Ted has a seriously heinous problem. “Dude,” he says before his brain really tells him to, turning to Bill, “this day is freakin’ awesome.” Bill nods, smiling most radiantly, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “Totally awesome.” It is. Today is totally, absolutely, one hundred percent awesome, but… Ted doesn’t feel awesome at all.

this is a fic about ted getting wild depression post excellent adventure and not knowing how to deal with it because uhhhh he does not know what depression Is (and also they kiss a little)

tagging: @natdrinkstea, @nico-demons, @wilhelmina-murray-harker, and @fix-fax-fuckyou :3

#SORRY THIS IS A BEAST #AUGH #radio free junebug #my writing #i'm not tagging this by fandom i'd kill myself #anyway. #tag game #captain cupola