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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

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In Just A Second - 11

Legolas x Witch!Reader

(Warnings: some fighting and blood, but a very small amount. Also I know this is short but there’s gonna be some smut in the next part as an apology:3)

Elvish:

“Nin mel, nin cuil, nin tinu, nin meld, if er aur im am an lelya-, tovon in i talv, im will mel cin, onlui cin” - My love, my life, my star, my dear, if one day I am long gone, deep in the ground, I will love you, only you.

“Nin mel” - My Love

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You watched in horror at the smoke that rose from the city, the ships making their way too slowly up the Anduin River, your blades in your hands as you stood ready. You sat besides Legolas as you all hid behind a railing on the deck, your eyes turning to meet his and you leaned closer to him “after this, will you marry me?” you whispered as the ships made it to the shore, seeing his eyes light up as he quietly chuckle, a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle “only if you slay more orcs than me” he jested, and you nearly laughed loudly “be careful, I might win” you challenged, seeing Legolas smirk “maybe I want you to” he mumbled, leaning closer to your lips, about to lean in and kiss you when a voice disturbed the two of you.

“Late, as usual! Pirate scum! There's work that needs doing!” You heard an orc yell, the sound of the voice made you cringe, and it didn’t help when you heard it again, “Come on, ya sea rats! Get out off your ships!” he yelled again and you glanced at Aragorn who gave a quick nod, and you all leaped out of the ship and onto land, standing for a second before slowly making your way towards the group of orcs, hearing them slowly laugh, amused at the sight of just the three of you. “There are plenty for both of us! May the best dwarf win!” you heard Gimli say and you glanced at him with a smirk “I think you mean ‘may the best witch win’?” you asked, receiving a quick glance and laugh from Gimli, the four of you making your way to the orcs, picking up the pace as the army of the dead appeared behind you, the orcs realizing just how dead they all were and began to run, their tails behind their legs as the cowards they truly were.

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You cut down one orc, keeping a mental note of how many you had slain, so far you were up to forty, the orc you just cut down making it forty-one. You turned at the mention of Legolas' name, your eyes following theirs and widening at the sight before you, a Mûmakil, with a small army on top, and before you could say or do anything Legolas moved towards it, managing to grab onto arrows that had previously been fired at it’s legs, climbing his way up to the top of the beast, shooting people as he went while you stayed on the ground, slaying orcs. Your eyes widening as a man had snuck up behind him and in the blink of an eye you grabbed the sword belonging to a fallen orc, mumbling something under your breath and throwing it, your eyes lighting up and the sword hit it’s mark, Legolas turning his head to see you blowing a kiss at him, and he afforded you a quick smirk before continuing, that was forty-five.

You watched him cut the rope of the platform that went around the Mûmakil, watching as it slided off and you followed the army of the dead as they surrounded the fallen platform, killing any survivors, but you, on the other hand, continued along the Mûmakil to the best of your ability, just in case he needed you. You cut down another orc, mentally counting it to forty-six, as you continued onward, watching as Legolas moved to the head of the Mûmakil, shooting not one, not two, not three, but four arrows at the same time, the arrows piercing it’s skull and you watched as it fell, Legolas disappearing from your view. Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, and finally you reached around the dead Mûmakil in time to see Legolas softly land on the ground with a smirk, staring at Gimli whose face was completely red in frustration “that still only counts as one!” He angrily said and you ran over to Legolas, cupping his face as you giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly, which he happily returned, and when you parted you smirked at him “he’s right, still only counts as one” you whispered and Legolas scoffed amused, eyes glancing to the ground before looking back to you with the same smug smirk “how many?” he asked and you shrugged playfully “fifty-two” you said casually, watching his stunned expression as you moved away from him and cut down another orc, turning to him with a few drops of orc blood covering your cheeks, and you had never looked more beautiful to him… well, except for that night at the camp, to him, you were a goddess.

“Fifty-three. Be careful, my love, I’m winning” you taunted as you moved on to the next orcs, Legolas couldn’t help the adoring smile he wore as he watched you, before joining the battle once again.

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You stood besides Legolas, your eyes, which had stopped glowing, fixated on the King of the Dead, who stood before Aragorn, “Release us…” his voice was haunting, but you guessed yours would be as well if you were long dead and but a ghost, cursed to walk the earth eternally.

“Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead.” Gimli said with slight apprehension, and you frowned down at him “they have been bound long enough, Gimli…” you whispered, seeing a disappointed look on his face as he looked away, “You gave us your word!” the King said in an angry voice, as if he was scared that Aragorn would take Gimli’s words into consideration, but clearly, they did not know Aragorn. “I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace” Aragorn said, and you smirked proudly at him as the King of the Dead seemed relieved, a smile on his lips as he and his army disappeared in the wind, finally free and at peace. You bowed your head down and knelt before Aragorn, who had turned and saw Gandalf bowing his head as well, to the new king of Gondor, the real king.

On your way back to the city of Gondor you were walking with Aragorn, who stopped, head turning and once you followed his gaze, your eyes widened. Èowyn. Your feet carried you towards her and Éomer, your knees hitting the grass besides her as you looked her over, ignoring the cries of Éomer who held her, you put a hand on her forehead, over her eyes, and closed your own eyes, a glowing light shining from the under your eyelids, and when you opened your eyes again, Éomer, for the first time, saw a glimpse of the power you possessed, your eyes slowly turning back to their beautiful (Y/E/C) colour, finding his own eyes as you gave him a small smile “she’s alive… hurt and wounded, hanging on by a thread, but alive” you assured him and he sighed in relief, his eyes glancing back at you, about to say something, and you swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips, just for a second, but as Legolas approached he frowned in slight confusion, watching you get up and Legolas gently grab your hand, his other hand cupping your cheek with a love and adoration in your eyes that Éomer wished you looked at him with.

You gave Éomer a small smile before continuing onward to the city with Legolas, who still held your hand. You were halfway there when he stopped you, and you turned to him, silently asking why you were stopping, but when you saw his gaze you already knew. “Did you mean it? The promise you made?...” he carefully asked, and you smiled brightly at him, removing your hand from his, seeing a split second of grief, until both of your hands cupped his face, your eyes staring into his with certainty “Legolas, my love, nothing could ever stop me from meaning those words. It is beyond doubt that I love you, and now, I truly believe that Elves and Dwarves are not the only ones who only love once, who will only love one person for the rest of their life.” You whispered and you saw… tears? In those beautiful, icy blue irises, you saw an ocean of tears and joy at your words, “Nin mel, nin cuil, nin tinu, nin meld, if er aur im am an lelya-, tovon in i talv, im will mel cin, onlui cin” at his words, you couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes, running down your cheeks, and you felt his fingers gently wipe one of them away, the gesture taking roots deep in your heart and you looked up at him with pure adoration and love, something you saw in his own eyes.

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As you reached the top of the city of Gondor, much to your exhaustion, which surprised you, you saw the white tree, a tree you had wanted to see for as long as you could remember, and when you approached, you saw a small flower bloom on one of it’s branches, your eyes finding the figure of Aragorn who walked over. You looked back at the flower with pride, studying everything about it “the king of Gondor has returned, My Lord” you glanced at him, seeing him roll his eyes ever so slightly at the nickname ‘My Lord’, knowing full well that he already hated it, not that it would stop you. So you faked surprise “My Lord! A king does not roll his eyes at his subjects!” you said in a fake surprised voice, seeing Aragorn lightly glare at you, but you knew it was just playful, so you quickly moved to Legolas “save me, my love” you giggled as Aragorn continued to glare at you, but eventually his eyes moved back to the tree, and Legolas stood as confused as ever, you behind him as though Aragorn would chase you “why, Nin mel?” and you giggled, dropping the act, standing up straight and shrugging in a playful manner “Aragorn wasn’t too fond of me calling him ‘My Lord’, not even an army of orcs would scare me as his glare did” you jested, seeing Legolas gently shake his head in amusement as Gimlli laughed at your comment. One of Legolas’ hands found your lower back and he led you inside the castle itself, Gimli mumbling about finding something to eat as he followed you two, giving Aragorn space to study the tree that proved to him that he was indeed the real king of Gondor, that there was no mistake, that he was the right one, despite his earlier doubts.

Before you entered the hall you turned and saw Gandalf approach Aragorn by the tree, and you stared proudly at the dark haired ranger, proud to not only have the pleasure of knowing him, but to call him family as well.

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Tags:

@entishramblings

@depressedchilipepper

@graniairish

#Legolas #Legolas Greenleaf #Legolas x Reader #LOTR #Lord Of The Rings FanFic

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hey-have-you-heard · 4 years

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Hey have you heard these 50 songs from 2019

I really enjoyed this last year so going to give it another go for ‘19. I put quite a lot of thought into what actually a ‘song of the year’ for me when I was first constructing and then heavily editing the playlist that came to be my Top 50 of 2019. I think the most important thing is that above all it’s a track that I’m glad exists, sometimes this is because of the songwriting or composition, sometimes the performance, sometimes the lyrical importance and sometimes just because it sparks joy.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6bFJOjL8b8Zc2s5r1oJbsk?si=UJdqSXOTR3SQ8D3IwcmV2g

Explanations for each tracks inclusion below the fold…

100 gecs - 800db cloud 100 gecs channel a mix of Crystal Castles and Sleigh Bells with a Death Grips level appreciation for noise. It��s an absolute rush and that outro is just absurd.

Natalie Evans - Always Be Natalie Evans soft melody and sing song vocals are sublimely sweet on this heartfelt track of lost love, longing and nostalgia.

Petrol Girls - Big Mouth “If you fight back or disagree you’re the one with the fucking problem” this hits home, hard. Big Mouth is a rallying cry to speak out against oppression and discrimination, to raise you’re voice and be heard, not to be controlled.

Charli XCX ft. Lizzo - Blame it on your Love Charli has a midas touch when it comes to pop, combine that with Lizzo who has just about been the most fun thing in music this year and you’ve got a 10/10 banger.

Poppy - BLOODMONEY Poppy’s music just keeps going further down the rabbit hole. Originally playing with blending elements of nu-metal with bubblegum pop, she now seems to have transcended genre altogether to create whatever BLOODMONEY is, it’s absolutely ridiculous and I love it.

Body Hound - Bloom Get on that GROOVE! So proggy it hurts, this track from Body Hound is a technical wonderland of metamorphosing rhythms, gargantuan riffs, and just the tastiest of chord progressions.

Can the Sub_Bass speak - Algiers Word of warning, this is not an easy listen. A freefall tumble through genre and tone accompanies a stream of consciousness monologue full of racism, prejudice and political and artistic critique.

Elohim - Buckets Buckets is an onslaught of trap influences, emotional outbursts and aggressive distortion. I’m a big fan of this sound.

VUKOVI - C.L.A.U.D.I.A I know very little about VUKOVI as a band, but that riff is absolutely massive and this track has been a constant throughout my year on that basis alone.

Show Me The Body - Camp Orchestra Apparently more hardcore bands should use Banjos, because this is a damn good sound. Slowly building from a single bass line this track builds into a powerful demolishing force.

clipping. - Club Down Having thoroughly proven themselves able to do afro-futurist scifi on the Hugo nominated Splendor and Misery, clipping. now turn their considerable talents to horror core and unsurprisingly nail it. Daveed’s flows are tight as ever as he brings to life a decaying city backed by tortured screams.

Dream Nails - Corporate Realness YOU ARE NOT YOUR JOB. WORK IS NOT YOUR LIFE. YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU MUST DO IN ORDER TO SURVIVE. Dream Nails are great and exactly what we need right now.

ControlTop - Covert Contracts This track positively bristles with an anxious energy. A fitting sound for the subject of the information overload we find ourselves locked into everyday.

Cherry Glazerr - Daddi There’s an icy coolness to ‘Daddi’, a disconnected sarcasm that falls away to reveal the anger and torment in the chorus, it’s a masterful bit of emotional storytelling through musical tone.

The Physics House Band - Death Sequence I Listening to Physics House latest release, the Death Sequence EP feels like a physical journey. This opener is a perfect example of this, as you’re plunged straight into a heady and disorienting mix of rhythms and counter-melody’s, the Sax guiding you through the turbulence until you land in a placid midsection, before that bass riff drags you forward through rhythmic breakdowns into an absolutely absurd brain melting saxophony and then it just keeps on going from there…

Witching Waves - Disintegration I saw WW back in the early summer, they were a bassist down so it was just a guitar and drums duo. They started with this track and it was one of the most pure punk things I’ve experienced, drummer/vocalist Emma Wigham bashing the absolute shit out of her kit . A great no-nonsense lo-fi banger.

Lingua Ignota - DO YOU DOUBT ME TRAITOR Another, not particularly easy listen here. DO YOU DOUBT ME TRAITOR is a dark and angry brooding track, building in intensity to release the primal rage, fear and horror of the abused. Its deeply chilling and instantly arresting. This track and the entire CALIGULA album stands as an absolute must listen.

Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Electric Guest - Feels Right I love the instrumentation on this one, those chunky piano chords and screaming guitar lift the track out and make it the highlight of an already great album to me.

Orla Gartland - Figure it out Dialing back the intensity slightly, Orla chronicles the frustrations of having to deal with someone in your life who you’re done with. The choruses burst forth in beautifully fuzzy explosions of noise. That vocal flair at the start of the final chorus is chef kiss.

Battles - Fort Greene Park Battles are at their best when they keep things simple. This is evident on 2019′s Juicy B Crypts which features some incredibly cluttered moments, but this just makes Fort Greene Park stand out all the more. A delightfully spacious piece of math rock, from some of the best in the business.

Dogleg - Fox Boy howdy, do I love me some midwest emo. Catharsis in musical form, it just makes me want to mosh my troubles away like I’m 16 again.

Tørsö - Grab A Shovel Tørsö go hard, I can appreciate that. An absolutely brutal track about the destructive power of depression and self-loathing.

“Pijn & Conjurer playing Curse These Metal Hands” - High Spirits “We were like, are we Pijn and Conjurer, or are we Curse These Metal Hands? I think we’ve settled with ‘we are Pijn and Conjurer playing Curse These Metal Hands’ …whatever that means!“ what it means is one of the most joyously triumphant pieces of metal music I’ve ever heard. Some of the guitar lines in this absolutely soar.

Lizzo - Juice Lizzo has won 2019, her message of self love, acceptance and body positivity has won her both critical and cultural acclaim and permeates her music in a way that makes it impossible to not love.

COLOSSAL SQUID, AK Patterson - Kick Punch Colossal Squid is the name given to Three Trapped Tigers drummer, Adam Betts’ experimental project. After a solo album of percussive wizardry Betts has now teamed with vocalist AK Patterson to give us something else entirely.

Evan Greer - Liberty Is A Statue Evan Greer uses the a folk punk sound to deliver an essay on the damaging influences of cis-normativity and social inequality. Of course I like this one.

Taylor Swift - Lover I wasn’t on board with this song for a fair while, but then I kept listening to it and kept coming back to it because of a roughly 50 second section which ties the track and the whole album together. Yeah, this is on here purely for the bridge, which is just beautiful.

Dodie - Monster Monster is an incredibly well written and delivered study on how perception changes with resentment and it makes me cry.

The Y Axes - Moon Moon is a delightfully dreamy piece of pop that glitters with infectious melodies, it’s lyrics a blissful embracing of cosmic nihilism, need I say more?

Ezra Furman - My Teeth Hurt My teeth hurt is a song about tooth ache, about that pain you carry with you everywhere and can’t get rid of, that ruins your days and and is one hell of a mood. Yeah it’s about gender dysphoria.

Nervus - No Nations Speaking of things being a mood, this track hits the nail squarely on the head.

Cultdreams - Not My Generation "Everyone ignores me Unless I’m on a stage talking Because they put me on a pedestal And pretend I’m just performing“ Lucinda Livingstone calls out the misogyny in our culture with a singular ferocity.

Lil Nas X - Old Town Road If there’s one song that’s dominated 2019 this is it right here. Who ever had the idea of putting that NIN Ghosts sample to a trap beat and cowboying over the top of it is an absolute genius.

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Planet B It’s impossible to predict where King Gizzard’s sonic influences are going to take them next I doubt even they know half the time. Whatever they turn their hand to though they do it as if they mastered the sound decades ago Planet B is an all out thrash track with a strong environmental message.

Kesha - Rich, White, Straight Men Okay, I’m about to compare Kesha to John Lennon here but HEAR ME OUT… As ‘Imagine’ asked us to consider a world without conflict or capitalism, Kesha now posits that we should tear up our conceptions of our society based on its formation by a privileged group and imagine what kind of utopia could be built if we gave the underprivileged and minority groups a say.

Allie X - Rings A Bell The chorus here sounds like it could have been off Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories, and I’m all about that sound. Combined with Allie X’s dreamlike vocals make this a certified bop.

Poly-Math - Sensors in Everything Sensors in Everything is a beast of a track spanning over 14 minutes of absurdly dense prog. Having recently enlisted keyboardist Josh Gesner. Polymath make use of the new sounds and textures available to them, at times imitating a sort of Hammond sound not unlike John Lord to the chaotic maelstrom of noise.

Calva Louise - Sleeper Big hooks on this one. Sleeper has a confident swagger to it’s sound which stands apart for the bands previous work. It’s an absolutely huge track.

Slipknot - Solway Firth Slipknot didn’t disappoint after the tease of 2018′s “All Out Life”, following up with an album which blended old and new aspects of their sound to create one of their best to date. Solway Firth is a perfect example of this matching the punishing heaviness of Iowa with the melody driven sound of All Hope Is Gone.

Clt Drp - Speak To My Seeing Clt Drp perform live was one of my highlights of the year. The filthy guitar tones, powerhouse vocals tight as heck drumming and the _grooves. _Absolutely like nothing else I’ve seen. Just an incredible band that deserve so much more recognition.

Black Country, New Road - Sunglasses Black Country, New Road released two tracks this year and now I just want more. Dense wordy lyricism plays off against ever evolving instrumentation to present a raw cut of emotional storytelling.

Her Name Is Calla - Swan Her Name Is Calla are a band that have always been on the edge of my radar, my Dad is very fond of them and saw them live a couple of years ago, but never went back to relisten to any of their stuff, then they started an album with this. I was sold instantly.

black midi - Talking Heads Talking Heads (the band) are an obvious inspiration on this track. Both David Byrne’s vocal style and the Talking Heads penchant for sharp angular melodies are on show here. But given an extra ounce of chaos through Black Midi’s delivery.

Amanda Palmer - The Ride The ride is ten minutes of bundling up all your fears and anxieties of where we are and where we’re going and just, accepting them as part of the ride. Written off the back of a prompt from Amanda asking her fans what they were afraid of right now.

Kim Petras - There Will Be Blood Okay, let’s have some out of season spookiness. Love the squelchy synths on this, there’s a huge amount of energy on this track and with it’s commitment to the horror conceit it makes for a super fun bop.

Kate Nash - Trash Kate Nash’s sound is like bathing pure nostalgia,here she spins the toxic-relationship narrative central to her work to deliver a bigger story about humanity’s, quite literally toxic relationship to our planet.

American Football & Hayley Williams - Uncomfortably Numb The other side of the “midwest emo” coin. A melancholic song built on a soft bed of arpeggiated chords and clean harmonics, Uncomfortably Numb is a heartbreaking track of losing everything and of cycles persisting thorugh generations. Employing the clever metatextual trick of referencing Pink Floyd’s comfortably Numb to mirror the generational similarities.

Glenn Branca - Velvet and Pearls Disclaimer, Glenn Branca was a musical hero of mine, his approach to music and composition being solely responsible for influence a vast number of my favourite bands. Released posthumously, Velvet and Pearls is taken from a live performance by Branca’s ensemble and perfectly captures the sense of sonic disorientation, conjuring aural illusions through an assault of intricately crafted noise. It’s an exhilarating piece that should be played as loud as humanly possible.

Brutus - War The raw emotional strength of Stefanie Manneart’s vocals instantly made me pay attention when I first heard this track. Then the song exploded into a barrage of riffs and breakneck drumming.

Valiant Vermin - Warm Coke Another slice of throwback pop, Valiant Vermin proved with “Online Lover” how much of an ear she has for pop and has proven it once again with Warm Coke. Is a real good bop.

———

Welp there it is, 50(+1) songs, I had to limit myself to one track per artist in the main 50 because according to Spotify I listened to [checks notes] 1082 new artists this year. There are a small handful of tracks I wanted to highlight from the same artists though as they offer something quite different to the tracks in the playlists, so here they are quickly with 3 word descriptions.

Petrol Girls - Skye (dead dog, sad) Amanda Palmer - Voicemail for Jill (Talk about abortion) Ezra Furman - I Wanna be Your Girlfriend (Trans Torch Song) Battles ft Jon Anderson & Prairie WWWW - Sugar Foot (Batshit Prog Insanity) Poppy - Choke (Dark Minimalist Pop) Show Me The Body - Forks and Knives (Anxious nightmare punk) Lingua Ignota - CALIGULA (the whole album.)

———

Closing Statement

Cultdreams - Statement

There has been a shadow over the entertainment industry the latter half of this decade. Whether film, music, TV or video games, the late 2010′s are filled with stories of people coming forward to bravely tell their stories about being abused and manipulated by men in positions of power. The #metoo movement as it’s come to be known has been a powerful force in giving marginalised people a voice and the ability to call out oppressors and in starting the groundwork to root out the misogyny in the seats of power, but this is a battle far from won.

While there are thousands of stories out there I want to focus on one in particular.

In 2016 a number of women spoke out about various forms of abuse by a well-known musician in the punk scene. It’s now over three years later and this group of women are in the midst of a long fought claim of defamation from this musician. If this case goes through it sets a precedent for silencing marginalised voices in the industry. They have been fighting for so long and with no legal aid available for the case they have had to finance their defense from their own pockets.

This is where Solidarity Not Silence comes in. Solidarity not silence is a crowdfunding effort to help take the case to trial without the women bankrupting themselves entirely so that they don’t have to give in to this mans demands. You can read more about Solidarity not Silence and make a donation (if you feel so inclined) here: https://www.crowdjustice.com/case/solidaritynotsilence/

You can also follow them on twitter here https://twitter.com/solnotsilence

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elegiesforshiva · 6 years

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Ghosts XIV: Heartthrob

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The camp they set is rife with silence and agitation, not unlike most missions, but something is different with this one.

Despite Nara’s calm and apathetic disposition, Sasuke can tell he is livid. His right hand keeps palming the pocket he keeps his cigarettes in, and the turn of his jaw is twitching, probably itching to chain smoke like he has since the start of the mission. But he doesn’t because tonight they are too close to enemy lines.

Despite the frigid cold, they’d be going without a fire. Just blankets, soldier pills, and water. They’re even resting on the thick bodied branches of Konoha’s trees to avoid leaving obvious footprints.

This is a reconnaissance mission, Shikamaru had said at least six times since the start of the mission. We cannot be seen.

If anyone else were leading the mission, Sasuke would have thought it excessive. But it’s Nara, and if he’s being overly cautious, there’s probably a good reason for it.

Sasuke suspects it has to do with him, lone arm trembling and head buried beneath six feet of ash. But he thinks it must be more than that too. Handicapped or not, he can hold his own and everyone knows it.

“That’s it—I need to ask,” Kiba says, and Sasuke already knows something stupid is about to come out of his mouth. “Why the hell do you keep staring at him?”

“Huh? Who?” Ino says, so dull-witted and obvious that Sasuke thinks it would be catastrophic if she were ever interrogated.

“You!” Kiba says, scrunching his nose until it mirrors the nin-dog curling against him.

“I’m not doing anything!” Ino hisses, her head rivets so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap right off. She glares hard at him, like she’s reprimanding Inuzuka for noticing her gawking for three days. Sasuke is just glad her eyes are finally off of him.

“Shh,” Kaito intervenes. “Keep it down.” He’s the only one in the team that’s not part of the annoying band of genin Sasuke once knew. There’s a strange comfort in that—along with the fact that he’s relatively quiet and docile.

“You’ve been looking at Sasuke like Akamaru does a piece of meat since we left Konoha,” Kiba says, his voice only marginally softer. “Aren’t you dating Sai? Either way, it’s Sasuke—“ Sasuke tries to ignore them, hone in on the hiss of the wind.

“—he’s not going to sleep with you.” It doesn’t work.

“Kiba, you crude, dog-breathed shit stain,” Ino whisper-shouts. “If you keep yapping, I’ll knock your ass right off that branch!”

“No, you will not,” Shikamaru says, sounding as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. “Ino, stop staring at Sasuke. Kiba, shut your trap. You’re both going to agitate your teammates—primarily me.”

“Oh please,” Ino mumbles, just loud enough for Sasuke to hear. “You’re always agitated these days.” But then she’s turning on her side, pulling her thin blanket up to her pink nose. Shikamaru rolls his eyes, the only indication that he heard her before wisely choosing to ignore it.

A thick quiet sets in, and Sasuke can hear his harsh breath as much as he can feel it. He tries to focus on the bright strip of moon, the thick stitching of his blanket, the grainy texture of bark against his fingers—anything but the aches in his body. He desperately itches to ignite Susanoo, if only to feel his body come aflame. Fuck, he just needs some relief.

“Sasuke, get over here. I need to talk to you,” He hears Shikamaru call. A growl is born and dies in his throat, because he already knows he’s been caught. When he looks up, he sees Kaito staring at him, and Ino looking like she’s trying not to.

Sasuke shifts his weight, standing on legs that feel as if they might fall right off. He wonders if he can chalk the shaking of his arm up to the cold. He pushes off his branch with a single stride and lands on Shikamaru’s.

Sasuke can see every hard line around the scrunch of red nose and cheeks beneath those worn, inquisitive eyes. Sasuke can’t help but think that Nara looks far older than even most shinobi his age. And he imagines his own face must look much worse.

“Ino said you’ve been having withdrawals,” Shikamaru says.

For a fleeting moment, Sasuke imagines himself strangling Ino, before consciously shoving the brutal image down in an overflowing mental trunk of his unwanted rage.

“Have you been hallucinating since we left Konoha?”

“No,” Sasuke lies. It doesn’t matter. The hallucinations are nonviolent and brief enough for the lie to pass. Still, Shikamaru gives him a dubious look, and it’s like grime coating his every exposed nerve.

“Is that all?” Sasuke presses, wanting to just be done with this conversation and this mission so he can just see Naruto and Sakura again. He hasn’t seen them in days.

“I just need you to be honest with me,” Shikamaru says, leaning back into oak trunk so wide it looks like it might swallow him. “There’s a number of concerns right now, some involving the members of this squad and I need to know if you’re one of them.”

“I’m not,” Sasuke says. “If anything, you should be worried that there’s a chunin in the squad.”

“Kaito is the most qualified person for his position here, other than Akamaru,” Shikamaru says. “He’s the least of my problems.” He nods over to Sasuke’s cloaked shoulder, calculating eyes trailing down the length of his side. “What about your arm? I can’t imagine you’ll have great accuracy with shuriken when it’s shaking like that.”

“This is a reconnaissance mission,” Sasuke says, repeating Shikamaru’s earlier words. “We won’t be seen.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Uchiha.”

“You’re asking if I can throw shuriken correctly,” Sasuke quips, and he doesn’t bother to keep the strain from his voice—he’s beyond his limit. Ino has been staring at him, waiting for him to snap this whole trip, Kiba’s perpetual, obnoxious commentary is even more annoying than the dobe’s, and Sakura should have been on this mission, but now he has to worry about two sensors tracking his erratic chakra instead of one.

Shikamaru sighs, palms his head in nothing short of irritation. “Just don’t screw this up.” He crosses his arms. “I’ll have Ino check on you before we leave in the morning. Get some rest, I’m not putting you on duty tonight.”

Sasuke doesn’t nod, or give any clear indication he heard the order. He just returns to his branch and curls against the trunk with the elegance of a capricious child. He loosens his thin cloak off his shoulders and tucks his chin enough for his hair to veil his face. He feigns sleep through posture alone, refusing to do so much as close his eyes. It doesn’t matter. In the shinobi world, there’s two ways to go about your teammates: Pretend you’re not watching, or just do it openly.

He hears them trade off shifts to keep watch. And the cold settles thick in his sore, fevered muscles in a painfully pleasant way. It’s nearly midnight when he feels a slight weight shift on the end of his branch.

Sasuke doesn’t even glance at the chunin. “What?” He asks, trying not to sound annoyed, or like he’s been daydreaming of ripping his own skin off for the past two hours.

“Can’t sleep again?” Kaito asks, his voice so distant and calm it felt like it was forged in the night sky.

“Hnh,” Sasuke grunts.

“Is it the mission?”

Sasuke considers not responding, but decides against it. The less heads rolling in elusive questions and grim fantasies, the better. “No.”

Kaito frowns in a way that suggests determination. Maybe he doesn’t believe him, or maybe he’s stupid enough to think he can serenade away a stranger’s childhood traumas by morning.

“I know it’s not my place,” Kaito begins. “But you don’t seem well.”

“You’re right,” Sasuke says. He tilts his head to see past rotting foliage, towards a blackened, starry sky. “It’s not your place.”

There’s a stunned silence, and Sasuke fully expects the nin to leave, possibly after mumbling a clumsy apology. But he doesn’t. Kaito just chuckles, forced and awkward.

“You know, you remind me of a friend,” the chunin says. “We were in ANBU together, her and I. She taught me a pretty neat trick—” His eyes flit to Kaito’s dark ones, the way his mouth twitches and knees buckle in on the next phrase, “Keeps the noise down.”

Sasuke can already tell he puts this nin on edge. He doesn’t blame him. He knows his chakra has been turbulent and he kind of feels like the timebomb Ino has been treating him as too. But Sasuke also knows his trigger already went off. He's just been trying to keep up with the devastation.

“If you concentrate your chakra around your eardrums, you start to hear your pulse a little louder,” Kaito says, and closes his eyes, forces himself to relax. The Rinnegan traces the sensor’s yellow chakra, marvels at how it simmers in, like it’s been dipped in a warm bath. “When I’m on safe grounds, I make it so it’s all I hear. Sometimes it’s just a nice reminder to know you’re alive.”

Sasuke quietly studies Kaito, the soft line of his lips, and the downcast of his eyes even when he opens them. He wonders if the shinobi who taught him this “trick” is dead, or what other tragic stories must accompany this chunin for him to take comfort in his heartbeat—

when Sasuke spends most days just wishing his would stop.

Ino’s hands move methodically over his muscles, pressing gently at key points where Sasuke felt the greatest strain. The sun is gone too early again and everything about this winter is too cold. Ino’s teeth are clattering against one another like fine glass, the ice blue of her eyes gliding over the aches of his rigid body.

“If he’s this concerned about withdrawal, why isn’t he just ordering you to feed me more medication?” Sasuke asks, sounding slightly less cynical than he feels.

Ino huffs part of a laugh or sneer, and her breath comes through in a thick vapor. “I told him it wouldn’t be a better trade off with all the side effects.”

“And you believe that?” Sasuke asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ino says, slides a dry, pink tongue over her cracked lip, eyes cemented to her hands. Sakura looked like that too, when she was healing his and Naruto’s bleeding appendages. “I wouldn’t have given Naruto most of that crap if you weren’t on active duty and Hinata wasn’t pregnant at the time. You don’t need drugs, Sasuke. You need support.”

Her hands move to his left shoulder, and he gasps at the sudden pressure. It feels like her chakra is penetrating bone marrow and soothing as it is, it feels violating. He doesn’t remember Kabuto’s quick checks being like this. But then again, Sasuke had a tendency to cut those short, if not outright refuse them.

“But unfortunately,” Ino says, “You’re a shinobi like the rest of us—and that makes you damned to feel alone no matter how many people are with you.”

“Does she feel that way too?” Sasuke asks before he can stop himself. He hates himself for it. He can’t tell if Ino’s presence is disarming of he’s just hopelessly desperate to hear from someone who has answers.

Ino is startled, her lips parting and her eyes growing into wide, cold mirrors. Sasuke can see his naked need reflected through them.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” She asks.

Sasuke snarls in offense. “She’s my teammate.”

Ino is quiet, hands still, and he can see her eyes searching for something in his face before she turns her gaze past him. When he looks close enough, he can just make out Shikamaru’s figure reflected in her icy blue iris.

“We really thought you left, Sasuke,” she says. “We didn’t think you were ever coming back.” Ino looks down at her hands, the color past pink and bordering red from the cold. Her nailbeds are brown with buried dirt. His are too. “Sakura, she… We mourned you, Sasuke. It was like...like you died.”

Sasuke doesn’t want to hear this. Cherished as Ino is, she’s not the one he needs to beg for forgiveness. But he knows that pain is shared and Sakura’s hurt is Ino’s too. They’re connected. Just like him and Naruto. And so he whispers it anyway, laying a firm hand around her wrist, hoping to feel the presence of a single, blooming blossom through the contact. A tremor runs through instead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Her other hand slowly clamps down on his and he feels like a hostage. It’s cold, and the grip is strong with the kind of hurt that Sasuke often tries to daydream away. But he doesn’t resist it this time.

“I’ll save it,” he tells her.

Sasuke studies the iron bars below, rusted and nearly buried in snow and dead foliage.

The hideout is underground, like most hidden lairs, but the entrances are rarely this small and narrow. It resides in a hollowed out tree, between a thicker branch and the trunk, sealed with an area genjutsu that his eyes can see through with comical ease.

“It’s even smaller than I thought it’d be,” Ino whispers. “How is Akamaru going to fit?”

“Oh, he’ll fit just fine, don’t you worry.” Inuzaka’s smile is somehow both mocking and prideful. He glides a hand over his prized nin-dog and Akamaru lets out a bare whimper, despite the eccentric flailing of his tail.

“This is the safest entrance our intel gives us,” Shikamaru says, before inclining his head towards Ino and Kaito, who sit in the rear. “How many can you sense?”

“Not as many as there should be with a hideout as big as the report suggested,” Ino says, frowning.

“Is it concentrated or scattered?”

“Concentrated for sure,” Kiba says. “I can smell them right from here. And a bunch of chemicals too.”

“Yeah, it’s mostly clumped together, but I can still sense a few signatures on the outskirts,” Ino says.

“How many?” Shikamaru asks.

“Probably three or four,” Ino says.

“I feel four,” Kaito confirms.

Shikamaru stares forward, pensive. His eyes are locked on the gateway. “Change of plans,” he decides. “We’re going to rely on Kiba’s nose for tracking. Ino, Kaito. You two stay on the outskirts.”

“What? I’m the medic,” Ino says.

“And I’m the captain,” Shikamaru dismisses. “I’ll give you the signal if we need back up.”

“What about the chemicals?” Ino asks. “What if they’re toxic?”

“Then more reason for you to stay behind,” Shikamaru says, a rough edge to his voice that demands submission. “Are we clear to go?”

Ino looks like she wants to protest further and even Kaito looks peeved. But they hold their tongue. Kaito murmurs a reluctant, “You’re clear.”

“Good. Stay within a five mile radius. If you can’t for any reason, contact me with Shintenshin,” Shikamaru says. Then they’re off, slipping through a dubious passage with Sasuke’s Sharingan rippling in the wake of his genjutsu.

The hallways are obscenely cramped and monotonous, clad in blacks and greys and dirt. There’s no trace of light, and it’s frigid yet stuffy with an odd fume that Sasuke can only hope isn’t poisonous.

Sasuke is leading, the only member of the group who retains sight, and relying heavily on Akamaru who snarls or growls when he smells a nin down a pathway. Their steps are a practiced quiet, so soft that all that’s left is silence, bleak corridors, and more silence. Sasuke can hear the mellow thump-thump of his heart and it almost sounds like the taps of a clock. Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock.

“What are we even looking for?” Sasuke whispers, trying to discern one long, rotting passageway from the other.

“Anything,” Shikamaru says.

“There isn’t anything,” Sasuke says, frustrated.

“Wait, shut up,” Kiba says. They stand in a long stretch of strained silence, listening. But nothing comes.

The cool, damp fumes grate Sasuke’s throat and stiffens his skin. He wants to shrug it off his skeleton, peel it away. Snakeskin. Sasuke has never understood Orochimaru’s coveted newness like he does now. He breathes, channels chakra to his eardrums. It gets louder.

Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock.

Finally, Shikamaru whispers, “What do you hear?”

“A conversation.” Kiba says, before finally turning on his heel and walking forward. “And it sounds important. C’mon, this way.”

“You’re about to walk into a wall.” Sasuke sneers, grasps Kiba’s shoulder and guides him down the aisle.

They move down narrow halls until there’s a sliver of light peeking at the end of a corridor. And then there’s a wordless, unified shift in their movements. They’re faster, yet meticulous. And when they get closer, they can hear an exchange of voices.

“...about the expedition?”

A deep, musky voice echoes. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?” A high pitched voice growls. “It’s an Uzumaki and this was the fifth one made. Your sensors should be more reliable than this.”

“They are reliable,” a man says with a strained sort of anger. “But we don’t even know what country to look in. We’re about to set off to search in Ame now.”

They sound so far that Sasuke can’t help but peak through the corner. He realizes the hall leads to a crumbling balcony, and they’re hearing the voices of a candlelit room down below. He crouches low and moves closer, grateful that Shikamaru trusts his judgement enough to follow. He can just make out the figures of a dark haired man and two women, one who is slouched in a corner desk, writing. Beside her is a teal haired child, shackled and gagged, lying still on the floor.

“We’re running out of time,” the woman says. “We don’t know how the nations are going to respond after the deposition.”

“We can guess,” the bandit replies, a smile in his voice.

“Do I look like a fucking Kage to you?” She snaps. “If we want to see tangible results, we can’t just direct our people on guesses and prayers. But I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you—”

“Rina, you need to relax,” another feminine voice pitches in, placing her pen down and shifting in her seat. Sasuke just makes out a different movement in his peripheral, and he turns his head to see Akamaru pawing at Kiba’s leg. His stomach starts to squeeze. “They’ll probably just tighten the security a little. It’s no big deal. And besides, we have so many clans in ou—”

“And Konohagakure alone practically has two Gods, Yuki.”

“What about the guy in the northern hideout? His plan could work, if we coordinate it right.”

She scoffs. “Fat chance.”

Sasuke watches Kiba try to hush his nin-dog, but then Akamaru clamps his mouth over Kiba’s arm and starts dragging him backwards. Shikamaru is there in the next moment, and there’s a whispered exchange before he signals Sasuke to come back.

“We need to retreat,” Shikamaru says, voice so dry, so practiced. And the tick-tock gets replaced with a wild th-thump th-thump th-thump.

Sasuke leads in haste, wishing he had his second arm again and maybe a third so he could just snatch them all up and move. He can’t let it happen. He can’t lose more people. And neither can she.

When they reach the entrance they came through, Kiba has already prepared them for the two nin waiting, and Shikamaru’s signature jutsu has them planted still for Sasuke’s methodical incapacitations.

“Out. Now.” Shikamaru commands before the last body even meets the ground.

Kiba is pulling an unconscious bandit up by the arm. “Shouldn’t we ta—”

“Now.” Shikamaru growls, vicious, and Kiba drops the body in an instant. “We don’t have time.”

Sasuke is pacing around his head while scampering up the hollowed tree. That pasty Root-nin will never accept him as Team 7. Naruto will be disappointed, and Naruto already has too much to be disappointed about.

They’re out, and the open air frees Sasuke’s lungs. First it’s dead leaves and frosted moss and everything once green and now white.

And then it’s blood.

“Shit,” Kiba breathes.

Lying yards from the exit is Kaito amongst the snow. He’s all brown and green and red. His mouth is agape, his eyes match, and there’s an endless hole sitting where his heart should be.

The gore is splattered everywhere. On tree bark, on snowy forest floor, and all over Sasuke’s mind. There’s so much of it and it couldn’t all be Kaito’s. It couldn’t.

Sasuke’s eyes dart about frantically. His chakra is rupturing inside the left arm he doesn’t have and Shikamaru is telling him to get a hold of himself. But he doesn’t see Ino nor her chakra and Gods, Sakura is going to be so upset. She’ll never forgive him for this.

“Yamanaka,” he says. “We have to find Yamanaka.”

#sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #sasusaku #efs writes #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #ghosts #elegiesforshiva #homemade trauma soup #i actually knew what i wanted the title to be this time lmao #normally i've just been trying to wing it as i edit and post it on ff and ao3

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xxbyimm · 6 years

Text

Trick or Treat - Richard Armitage x Reader

So. @deepestfirefun came up with this idea, and I was like, well I can write this for ya!!

When our minds collaborate…. weird things are about to happen! In a good way, I hope! ;D

Trick or Treat

Summary: It’s Halloween’s eve and Richard is staying over at your place. He’s about to learn you are extremely frightened of clowns. :)

Forever tagged: @fizzy-custard @nelswp @bellastellaluna, @imagines-for-multiple-fandoms, @leah-halliwell92, @sassytyphoondetective, @hannibatchsmuse, @patanghill17

If you wish to be on this list, let me know.

Warnings: Fluffy & seducing Richard. Some angst. Oh, Nin, I’LL SAY THIS IN ADVANCE, I’M SORRY DON’T HATE ME FOR THAT GIF I’LL USE BELOW…

Ding dong.

‘TRICK OR TREAAAAT!!!’

The sound of a number of little high-pitched voices make you stop in your track. You put your water kettle down, make your way through the hall and open the door. A little witch, two ghosts and a vampire are standing on your porch, staring hopefully up at your face.

Ah, the kids from the Miles family.

‘Trick or treat!’ they yell simultaneously again. ‘We’re here to collect ALL your candy!’ the vampire (or rather your nine year old neighbor kid called Adam) exclaims. ‘Or what?’ you tease him. ‘I’ll have to bite you, because I’m Dracula!’ Adam says and he shows you his fangs.

You suppress a smile. Adam’s mom did a good job. But even with his white painted face and voluminous black cape, Adam looks way too cute to be really scary. You doubt that’s what this little Dracula impersonator likes to hear, though.

‘Well, I certainly don’t want to be turned into vampire.’ you say. ‘Who did you bring with you, Dracula?’ ‘My helpers.’ Little Dracula tells you as he points at his younger sister and brothers. ‘And where’s your big brother?’ you say. ‘He didn’t want to come.’ Dracula sighs. ‘He thinks he’s a grown-up, but I think he’s a big baby.’ You bite on your lip and quickly change the subject. ‘You all look terrifying. Who are you?’ ‘Rosie is a witch.’ Dracula chatters. ‘Dean and Paul wanted to be werewolves, and they got mad when I told them they couldn’t. It’s obvious they can’t.’ ‘Why can’t they be werewolves?’ you ask, trying to catch up with his logic. ‘Because werewolves and vampires are natural enemies, miss S.’ The tallest ghost says matter-of-factly. ‘We would have to fight each other, and then there’s no time to collect treats.’

You recognize that smart-ass attitude as the third child of the family. Seven year old Paul is a bookworm and he really enjoys to lecture you about all sorts of facts he has learned whilst reading. You don’t mind, because you always learn a great deal too. You suppress a giggle. ‘Of course, Paul. I should have known that, I’m sorry.’ You confess. ‘No, my name isn’t Paul!’ Paul says irritated. ‘I’m Chase, the bloody helper of Dracula!’ ‘Oh.’ You nod and turn your attention to their younger brother, the little spook. ‘And who is this?’ ‘I’m Curse! And I love candy!’ Dean chitters. ‘Do you have snickers, miss S?’

Before you can answer that in fact, you have bought snickers for him, you are interrupted by the youngest member of the family, a girl called Rosie. ‘I’m a witch!’ the little girl beams, unable to contain her excitement any longer. She twirls around before you so you can admire her black dress. ‘Oh Rose, YOU are SCARY!’ you praise and you gently pull on her fake nose. ‘And you brought Felix with you!’

You eye your neighbors’ red tabby cat. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the harness he’s wearing. He lays down on the porch and watches you intently with his big golden eyes. Rosie laughs. ‘Yeah, mommy says all witches must have a cat!’ ‘Now, back to business!’ Little Dracula says impatiently. ‘Give us our treats, or you’ll have to pay with your life!’

You take a step back and pretend to be scared. ‘Rich!!’ you shout. ‘I’m being threatened by a vampire, a witch and TWO ghosts! I need some help over here!’ ‘AND A CAT!’ Dean adds enthusiastically. ‘Felix wants candy too!’

‘What do we’ve got here?’ A deep baritone sound comes from behind you and the man that belongs to the voice, puts his arm around your waist. Your boyfriend. You look up and his enchanting deep blue eyes are staring right at you. Richard smiles and it makes your heart melt down. You almost forget the children are there. His eyes, his strong jawline, characteristic nose, that perfectly trimmed beard… Oh, did you mention his trained body? The man is divine. The two of you have been dating for a few months now, and sometimes you still cannot believe he chose to be with you.

‘We’re surrounded by these scary creatures.’ You tell him. ‘What should we do now?’ Richard sighs. ‘There’s only one option, Nin. It’s best if we give up our most treasured possessions…’ ‘Yes, or pay with your lives!’ Paul proclaims. ‘Not the snickers!’ you howl and you have to press your lips together to keep in character when you see Paul’s face lighten up. ‘Yes, my darling.’ Richard nods slowly. ‘Especially the snickers. I heard monsters absolutely love snickers.’ ‘Alright.’ You give in. ‘Get the stuff.’ Richard chuckles and shows the little kids the bowl full of candy he has been hiding behind his back. ‘Please accept this as payment and spare our lives, sir Dracula.’ He says. ‘This will do.’ Dracula responds solemnly, but he quickly drops his character when he gets his hands on the candy. ‘Oh! You’re the best, miss S!’ Paul chirps as he grabs a handful of snickers and pushes it in his bag. Dean and Rosie follow his example.

Richard puts his arm around you as the both of you watch the little kids quickly run away from the porch and disappear into the dark street. Rosie wants to follow her brothers and tries to persuade Felix to move, but the cat isn’t having any of it. ‘Felix, please!’ Rosie tries and she pulls on the leash that is secured on the cat’s harness. Felix is unmoved and curls up in a little furry ball. He looks comfortable and you suspect the poor cat just wants to be left alone and take a long nap. ‘I don’t think this kitty wants to play trick or treat anymore, Rose.’ You say. ‘But as a witch, I need a cat!’ Rosie frets, tears welling up in her eyes. You lower yourself on your knees so you can look her in the eye. ‘No darling, a scary witch like you doesn’t need a kitty. He’ll only make you share your candy with him, and we don’t want that, do we?’ The girl smiles a little. ‘Felix can’t eat candy, miss S. He’ll get sick if he does. Don’t you know that?’ You heave a sigh. Rosie is clearly learning from her bigger brothers. She’ll be a smarty-pants in no time, just like them. You pick up Felix and take Rose by the hand. ‘Let’s find your brothers, Rose. Then I’ll take Felix home, ok?’ You gesture at Richard you’ll be back in a minute. Richard waves at you and closes the door behind you. You peer into the street. Now, where did Rose’s mischievous brothers go?

‘So, the cat is safely home again?’ Richard asks with a smile as you finally return to your bedroom with two cups of tea. ‘Yeah… luckily he is.’ You sigh and plunge down next to him on the bed. ‘I can’t believe their parents agreed to let them take him on this candy raid…’ Richard chuckles and looks up from his script, his deep blue eyes enchanting you. ‘They’re good kids. I doubt they would’ve hurt him.’ You shrug. ‘I don’t think they would… on purpose anyway. I’m just glad they didn’t dress him up as a… pumpkin.’ You glance over at one of your own cats, who is eyeing you suspiciously from its favorite place on the radiator. You smile. There’s no way one of them would voluntarily wear a harness, let alone a costume… If you would try to make them, your home would be a battlefield. No survivors. Except for the cat itself of course.

You lay your head on Richard’s shoulder and look down at the script he’s reading. It’s one of his new projects, a film called ‘Sleepwalker’. The concept is really intriguing and normally you would leave him in peace, but tonight you’re craving for some attention. You had to miss him for the past few days, and you want to make up for that lost time. You shift a little and kiss a sensitive spot in his neck, earning a soft groan. Then you ghost your lips over his bearded jaw, traveling upwards until you can kiss his right temple. ‘Are you bothering me on purpose?’ Richard rumbles. Your mouth curves into a devious smile. ‘Maybe I am… Do you mind if I do?’ ‘I don’t…’ Richard breathes. ‘But I’m sure the director does, Nin. I really got to study. My character…’ ‘That can wait until tomorrow…’ You say casually and before Richard can react, you grab the script from his hands. Your initial idea is to toss it off the bed, but Richard is faster than you. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer. You quickly roll on your stomach and make sure to keep the script under your body. You’re not going to give in. He’s not going to get it. Yet.

Richard chuckles and you glance at his face. His blue eyes are sparkling with mischief. ‘What?’ you say and you try not to smile. ‘I was wondering if you could hand my homework over.’ Richard says with a grin. You slowly shake your head. ‘No. You can tell the director that your girlfriend’s cat ate it. ’ ‘Hmm.’ Richard chuckles. ‘I doubt he believes that.’ ‘Then you have to use your acting skills to persuade him.’ You giggle. Richard sighs dramatically and he rolls on top of you, placing his legs on each side of you. His body is weighing heavily down on yours and you can feel his growing arousal against your bum. His breath is tickling your face, his beard rasping over the sensitive skin of your neck. Oh, there’s no way to go. He has you pinned down on the bed, and you have absolutely no problem with that.

‘I’d rather persuade you, Nin.’ he whispers teasingly in your ear. ‘Now, hand that over and I’ll overlook your naughty behavior this time.’ ‘I don’t think so.’ You breathe. ‘I think I’ve got a strong position over here.’ ‘You do?’ Richard muses. ‘You’re being held down, my love. Do you call that a strong position?’ ‘Yes.’ You grin. ‘You’ll never get that script from me.’ ‘We’ll see about that.’ Richard purrs. ‘Bring it on.’ You whisper.

Richard shifts a little and he gently brushes the hair from your neck. His breath tickles your ear and you suppress a pleasant shiver. His fingers ghost over your body and you have to force yourself to breathe normally. He has just begun and you already feel light-headed. ‘Nin..’ Richard groans in your ear and he passionately starts to kiss your neck. The low sound makes the heat within your body firing up. Fingers dig into the soft curves of your hips and you just can’t help yourself. You push your body against his and a soft whimper escapes our lips.

Oh god.

You know that if he continues kissing you like that, you will be unable to resist him. Your body is already begging for his touch and it won’t take long before you really lose your mind. You don’t want to give in, so you have to distract him from winding you up further.

‘And what is your point exactly, mister Armitage?’ you murmur as you try your best not to let another moan escape your mouth. ‘Persuading you.’ Richard growls. ‘To doing what?’ you enquire. ‘Give me my script of course.’ He teases. ‘I’ll never surrender.’ You stutter. ‘Oh, you will.’ Richard purrs. ‘This problem just needs a different approach.’

You make sure you don’t move and watch him apprehensively from the corner of your eye as his fingers travel from your hips to your waist. Richard isn’t one who gives up that easily. He knows you were moments away from giving in. So why did he stop? In other words…. What is that bastard up to?

You burst into laughter as Richard’s hands dart to your sides and he starts to tickle you. ‘This is unfair! Stop it!’ you squeal as you desperately try to escape from his grip. ‘Unfair?’ Richard chuckles. ‘There are a lot of things that I consider unfair, but this isn’t one of them…’ You wriggle under him, unable to catch your breath because you simply cannot stop laughing. ‘I surr- I… I…’ you manage to stutter. ‘What did you say?’ Richard asks and he temporarily loosens his grip on you.

You quickly make use of his swift inattentiveness and throw the script off the bed. Before Richard can make a move, you push him over and continue to straddle him. ‘Now what?’ Richard inquires. You tilt your head and wink at him. ‘Now I give you what you deserve.’ Your hands slide under his shirt and wander over his abdomen. Richard groans and you smile. You lean forward, your lips inches away from his and you let your fingers ghost his sides in a teasing manner. Richard bites on his lip. You are ready to attack him and give him the same treatment, when…

Ding dong!

God damnit. The doorbell rings again. More kids? You glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Hmm, 8.30 P.M. You really would like to ignore the bell, but on this Halloween’s eve there are undoubtingly more little trick or treaters out on the streets. You didn’t buy all that candy to eat yourself, did you?

‘You stay right there.’ You threaten as you roll from the bed and jump on your feet. Richard is eyeing his script and you quickly pick it up from the floor before he can reach it. You dodge his strong hands as he tries to grasp you and almost trip over the plinth in the doorway. ‘Nin, give that back!’ Richard laughs. ‘Not in a million years!’ You shout at him as you haste your way to the door, holding the script tightly to your chest again.

You’re still giggling when you put the script down on the cabinet next to the door and reach for the bowl of candy. ‘And who is this-’ You begin as you open the door, but your joy quickly turns into fear when you register that the person on your porch isn’t a kid. You don’t even know if it’s a human being. A creature with a pale face, huge red nose and crazy ass reddish hair is standing just inches away from you. It’s clothing must have seen better times. The once white material now looks worn and has a faded greyish color. The mouth of the creature is curved in an wide, evil grin, showing you dangerous pointy teeth. It’s dark eyes are eyeing you hungrily.

Oh god.

A clown. A freaking clown!

Shivers go up and down your spine and you start to sweat. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you suddenly don’t remember how to use your muscles anymore. Your fingers clench around the edges of the bowl. You just stand frozen in the doorway, unable to move. Great, so much for all the self-defense classes you went to. Your body just shut itself down and has gone into panic mode. You whimper as you watch the clown coming closer.

‘Aye, Ninnie.’ The creature grins as he takes a step forward. ‘Aren’t you gonna say hello?’ You slowly shake your head. ‘Ohhh, come on!’ The clown coos and he takes another step. ‘Don’t you want a balloon?’ ‘Stay back.’ You stutter. ‘Don’t you want to play with Pennywise?’ It queries. ‘I don’t !’ you hiss. ‘Oh, but I do want to play with YOU.’ It promises. ‘You all taste so much better when you’re afraid.’

You start to scream and the agonized sound fills the air. The clown lunges forward in an effort to make you shut up, but you throw the bowl in its face. The creature hisses in pain and takes a step back. You smash the door shut and lock it. Your body is shaking violently and you lean against the wall to prevent yourself from falling down. You vaguely hear Richard running towards you.

‘Nin!’ he exclaims, taking you into his arms. ‘What’s going on?’ ‘There’s a clown.’ You stutter while tears are running down your face. ‘What?’ Richard says. ‘A fucking clown.’ You repeat. ‘On my porch.’ ‘Let me see.’ Richard mutters. ‘NO!’ You shout. ‘THERE’S NO WAY I’M OPENING THAT DOOR AGAIN!’ Richard chuckles. ‘Calm down, love. Everything is fine. I’ll check it out. It’s probably some kid who’s trying to scare the hell out of you.’ ‘Please.’ You beg him. ‘Don’t leave me alone. I hate clowns.’ ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ Richard says. ‘I’ll-’ ‘It was Pennywise.’ You whisper, staring at the wall behind Richard. ‘The dancing clown…’ You mutter. ‘From my nightmares.’

Richard bites on his lip, trying to keep himself together. He would never have guessed that you, a badass female who doesn’t seem scared of a damn thing, is actually terrified of… clowns. He doesn’t think they’re funny either, but scary? Nah. More fucking annoying. Richard watches your pale face and agonized expression. You look genuinely shaken. He strokes your cheek and brushes away a tear that’s rolling down your face. Richard sighs and suddenly the whole situation isn’t as comical anymore. No one is entitled to scare you like that without suffering the consequences. He’s going to find out who’s responsible for this tasteless prank.

Richard gently lets go of you and cups your face with his hands. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ He promises. You whimper. ‘Don’t go!’ Richard smiles and stands up. ‘Just a moment. I’m going to find out who did this.’

You curl up into a tiny ball and watch him open the door. There’s nothing on the porch. Richard steps outside and looks around. The clown is nowhere to be seen. All that’s left of the scene that happened moments ago, is the empty candy bowl. It lies on the ground, the candy still scattered around it. Richard bends down and starts to pick it up. You force your body to get it together again and you stand up slowly, using the wall as support. You take little steps and make it to the doorway. You almost fall down again as you see the clown nearing your ignorant boyfriend.

‘Good evening sir Armitage.’ Pennywise cackles as he almost jump on him. ‘Do YOU like to play?’ Richard rises on his feet again and towers over the clown. ‘Do you think this is funny?’ he asks, clearly annoyed by the whole matter. The clown tilts its head. ‘Shall we play, Richard?’ When Richard doesn’t reacts and just eyes the clown in an irritated manner, it quickly turns and watches you again with that awful grin. ‘Or do you want to play, miss S?’

Richard clenches his jaw. ‘No, we will not. The only game I WILL play, Scott Miles, is if I should tell your parents about this or not.’ ‘Please don’t, mister Armitage.’ The clown howls and he forgets to stay in character. ‘I’m already grounded.’ ‘Scott?’ you exclaim, not believing you didn’t recognize the eldest spawn of your neighbors earlier. You descend from the porch and inspect the clown’s face. It’s indeed Scott, your fifteen year old neighbor kid. You suddenly feel stupid for being so afraid. Of your fucking fifteen year old neighbor. ‘God damnit Scott!’ you hiss as you try to reign in your anger. ‘I can’t even…’ ‘Nin.’ Richard says calmly. ‘No.’ you reply. ‘I’m going to tell him EXACTLY what he needs to hear!’ ‘Nin, love.’ Two strong arms touch your shoulders. ‘Look at me.’ Richard pleads. You look up, and his face makes calms you down a bit. ‘I got this.’ Richard smiles as he strokes your cheek. ‘Go inside.’

You shake your head and grit your teeth, knowing that Richard is right. You should remove yourself from this situation. Right now, you just want to smack that stupid teen in the face. Of course he couldn’t know that he would confront you with your worst fears, but walking around the streets dressed up like Pennywise the clown when children are around… Some people got stupid ideas, but this one is the dumbest you’ve ever encountered. You turn around and walk into your house again. It’s probably for the best that you leave the talking up to Richard. You’re too hotheaded now to react in a normal way. You slam the door of your bedroom shut and lie down on the bed. You close your eyes and try to consciously slow your breathing, but the image of that horrible smiling face won’t go away.

You’re still in bed when Richard lies down next to you. ‘Are you okay, darling?’ He asks as he pulls you into his arms. ‘Hmmm.’ You groan. ‘Scott told me he just wanted to prank his younger siblings.’ Richard rumbles. ‘I don’t even…’ You sigh. Richard chuckles. ‘I know, it was a stupid idea, but he told me it wasn’t his intention to scare you like that. He was following his brothers and little sister around the whole evening, trying to find a right moment to give them a good scare. He hid in our front yard when his brothers suddenly ran away. He didn’t want to frighten Rosie, but when he saw you walking away with her he thought it might be funny to pull a prank on you instead.’ You mutter something under your breath and Richard starts laughing. ‘He’s just a kid, Nin.’ He says. ‘Besides, will you tell me why you’re so terrified?’ You shrug. ‘I don’t know. I just am. I don’t like them. They’re creepy.’

Richard kisses your neck and you can feel your muscles slowly relaxing again. ‘From now on I’ll be here to protect you from any scary looking clown.’ He teases. ‘Until you have to leave to do a new project.’ You say. Richard chuckles. ‘Talking about projects… Where is my script?’ You giggle. ‘I have no idea, mister Armitage. I truly believe my cats ate it.’ You inhale sharply as Richard’s hands start to roam over your body again. ‘What were we doing before the doorbell rang?’ Richard breathes, his lips brushing over yours. ‘I don’t know.’ You murmur. ‘I think I was trying to seduce you.’ Richard purrs. ‘Is it working?’ ‘It’s always working.’ You reply. ‘Even when you don’t mean to.’ ‘Good to know.’ Richard pulls you closer and lands his lips on yours. It’s a sweet kiss, but you want more. You know exactly what renders under that soft, dorky surface of his, and you need that. Right now. You push your hips against his and ruck up his shirt. Richard growls into your mouth and his strong hands dig into your hips. You smile as he rolls on top of you, his mouth exploring your body greedily. You can feel the anger and stress being melted away by each kiss. Heat flares up in your body and your mind becomes hazy again.

You bite your lip. This man is a magician, and there’s no doubt he’s able to make you forget what happened tonight. You’ll probably forget your own name too. Your head falls back on the bed as Richard’s hands slip under your shirt.

Oh god.

This is going to be a long, very long night…

#richard armitage #richard armitage x reader #fluff and mild smut #angst #clowns #I'm sorry haha #clown gif is not mine #i didn't use a more scary clown because that would freak me out hehe #richard gif isn't mine either

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jouissezduprintemps · 7 years

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Something to Gain, Chapter Eight: How Fast Things Change

Rating: T Words: 3245 Fandom: Naruto Summary: Sequel to Something to Prove. Shikamaru and Temari navigate their relationship now that it’s in the public eye.

Something to Prove First Previous Next

Black gave way to blinding white as Temari blinked open her eyes. Her lids fluttered as she stirred, trying to take stock of her current situation. Her body felt heavy. The discomfort in the crook of her left elbow drew her attention to the needle taped to her skin, feeding her clear liquid from a suspended bag. On the other end of the hook hung a depleted bag, stained red. She couldn’t make out any of the characters except for the large ‘O’ demarking the blood type – her blood type.

Blissfully, she realized she wasn’t in pain. Whatever they were feeding her through the tube was high-quality stuff. That had to be why her brain wasn’t working like it should. She lay in silence until a nurse opened the door to her room.

The young, brown-haired girl beamed when she saw that Temari was responsive. “My Lady, thank goodness. We were starting to worry.”

“How long?” Temari asked, her throat dry.

“A day. You needed some transfusions, and the doctor thought it was best to keep you under until we could repair the damage and restore your levels.” The nurse turned a valve on the tube between her thumb and index finger, taking careful notes. “Your brothers and friends were sent home, but we’ll contact them shortly.”

“Gaara, sent home?”

“He wasn’t happy about it, believe me. None of them were. But, the doctor couldn’t work with them crammed into your room, and they were disturbing the other patients when we sent them to the waiting room.”

Temari rasped out a small laugh. “Water?”

“Ice, for now,” the nurse compromised. “I can’t change anything on your file until the doctor gets a look at you.”

She knew better than to argue with a nurse in a Suna hospital. Their word was law, superseding even the kazekage. “I’ll take what I can get.”

In a not entirely unwelcome gesture, the nurse placed her hand on Temari’s shoulder for a brief moment before exiting the room, with the promise to return.

Temari drew the thin blanket back over her lap and lifted the bottom of her hospital gown to examine the damage herself. The doctors had done a good job of closing the wound, but she couldn’t see the full extent of the damage because they had bandaged her abdomen. Her fingertips ghosted over the gauze, and she winced at the accidental pressure she placed on her injury. It was safe to assume that she wasn’t in danger; the nurse wouldn’t have been so calm, otherwise.

She wasn’t a medical nin, but from the location and pain she’d experienced, it seemed like the kunai missed puncturing her gastrointestinal system or any other major organs. If it had passed through her oblique muscle and fatty tissue, she wouldn’t be in the hospital longer than a few days and should recover well. That was a relief. Sure, she’d prefer not to have been stabbed, but, all things considered, it could have been much worse.

The nurse re-entered the room and handed Temari a cup of ice, which she took greedily. She wasted no time in crushing the ice between her teeth, thankful for the chance to get some moisture back into her body. To her dismay, the doctor entered just as she had her mouth full, and she smiled sheepishly as she tried to down the frozen water as quickly as possible. This doctor had treated Kankuro and Gaara on several occasions. Temari recognized her short, sand-colored hair and angular eyes. Doctor… Saito? Sakai? Something like that.

“It’s good to see you awake, Lady Temari. I’m your doctor, Ayame Sano.”

Well, at least she was close.

“You’re in good shape, considering your blood loss,” the doctor continued, flipping through her chart. “We were lucky to have your blood type on hand; you were almost a very difficult patient.” The small smile she made was enough to show that she was joking, if only a bit. “Your friend, the Konoha medical nin, she did an excellent job patching the injury. I wouldn’t say she saved your life, but she shortened your hospital stay considerably.” She paused as she read. “I’ll need to run a few tests to see if things have improved since last night.”

Temari nodded and made herself comfortable, letting the doctor do her work. Glowing hands hovered above her abdomen, probing with chakra. Temari turned her head to look at the nurse. “Could you have someone let my brothers know I’m awake? And my Konoha friends, if they run across them first.”

“Of course, My Lady.” The nurse ducked out of the room, careful not to interrupt the doctor.

The doctor’s hands stopped moving, hovering over a single spot for several moments without speaking. Temari felt her stomach twist. She studied the doctor’s face, looking for any sign that might tell her what was going on. From the way her brow furrowed, and her lips drew into a thin line, she assumed it wasn’t anything good. After a few tense seconds, the doctor’s shoulders relaxed, and she was comfortable enough to let out the breath she’d been holding. Temari watched her patiently, her heart rate settling back down at the reaction.

The doctor scribbled something on her chart before turning her attention to her patient, embarrassed by her lapse in professionalism. “Forgive me, My Lady. I wanted to see for myself before I gave you any misinformation. I wasn’t the one to run the tests last night, and I wanted to confirm what was written on your chart.”

“I understand.” Temari did her best to give her a kind look. The woman was clearly overworked.

“I’m glad that I did,” the doctor admitted. “I’ll be having words with Doctor Agake for his misdiagnosis, I assure you.”

“Misdiagnosis?”

“Doctor Agake was on call last night, and he recorded dangerously low levels of fetal chakra activity. At my assessment, the levels are still faint, but I disagree that you are in any danger of losing the pregnancy. It’s likely that your body is still responding to the shock, and your own chakra spikes are masking any subtler activity.”

After the previous night’s events, Temari thought it was best to come clean to her doctor about the situation. “No, don’t scold him on my part. There were some political concerns about an information leak, and Gaara decided that feigning my pregnancy would be the easiest and fastest way to draw it out. I’m sure he’ll be making a statement some time this afternoon, now that we’ve apprehended the culprits.” She gave the doctor a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to put Doctor Agake’s career in danger because of some gossip that they’d intentionally spread.

Doctor Sano arched an eyebrow at her patient, trying to process the revelation. “I see…” She looked down at the chart in her hand and flipped a couple pages, reading the information recorded during her visit. “If that’s the case, you wouldn’t mind if I ran the scan again, with this information?”

“Of course not,” Temari relented.

Once more, the doctor’s hands hovered over her abdomen. “Could you concentrate chakra into your extremities for me?”

Temari did as she was told, and her hands and feet began to emit a faint glow.

“Very good,” the doctor mused, continuing with her analysis. She took longer this time, careful not to make any mistakes. Operating under a false assumption could have been dangerous, but she didn’t scold her patient. Rather, she did her best to understand the circumstances.

“Alright, you can release.” The doctor picked up the chart once more and made some adjustments to the page. She drummed the cap of her pen against her bottom lip in thought before speaking. “My Lady, from what I can detect, it’s clear that you’re just shy of four weeks pregnant. It’s still very early, but, I assure you, my work in obstetrics makes me qualified to give the diagnosis. There are more formal tests we can run to confirm, but I’m sure they’ll just confirm what I’ve detected.”

Temari knew Doctor Sano well enough to know she never joked about medicine. There was no point in asking if she was serious or demanding more tests. She wouldn’t be a regular doctor of their family if she wasn’t one of the best. Temari let her head fall back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. She exhaled, drawing out her breath before declaring, “Well, fuck.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, My Lady?” Doctor Sano asked.

“Don’t tell my brothers. In fact, don’t tell anyone. I need some time to think this through.”

“Of course. As your doctor, I should inform you that there are other options available to you. If you’d like, I can have a nurse bring you some literature.”

“Not right now. I need a little while to wrap my head around this.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

A short set of knocks sounded against her door before it opened. Kankuro, clad in pajamas and without his hat or face paint, poked his head through the crack. “Sis, you up?”

“Yeah.” Temari shifted her body so that she was sitting further up against the slanted mattress.

“You look like hell,” Kankuro informed her as he stepped inside, a smile on his face.

“Fuck you, too,” she grumbled, thumping him in the chest with the back of her hand.

“Is that any way to talk to your favorite brother? Especially when he brought you these?” From behind his back, Kankuro produced a plastic bag of sweet chestnuts, tied shut with a ribbon. He’d been thoughtful enough to get them from her favorite shop.

Temari looked between him and the treat, crinkling her nose. “Fine,” she determined, taking the bag from his hand. She pulled the ribbon free and stuck her hand into the bag, pulling one out and popping it into her mouth. Good lord, they were amazing. In an instant, all was forgiven. “Where’s everyone else?”

“You know, I could just leave.”

Temari shot him a glare.

“Gaara’s tied up in his office, and Ino’s off with the intelligence division, getting information from our guys. She’s really good, you know. Like, scary good.” His eyes took on a faraway look, as though wondering what torture their prisoners were going through right now. It made his skin crawl. “I’m pretty sure Choji drugged Shikamaru to get him to sleep. He was bugging the shit out of everyone once they sent us home. He woke Ino up at three, digging through her stuff looking for the cigarettes she took from him. He drank all the coffee from the pot Gaara set to brew at five, and by the time I got up, he’d rearranged the living room.” He gave his sister a sideways glance. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t’cha?”

She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile.

Kankuro narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Tema, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she assured him. “I’m just tired. They weren’t playing around with the sedatives.”

“I’ve been dealing with you for eighteen years, Temari. I think I know the difference between you on sedatives and you preoccupied.” Both scenarios happened more often through their youth than either of them wanted to admit. Their genin years were nothing if not brutal.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to keep that up anymore. We got the guys, so don’t worry about keeping your cover. Besides, it’s just us.”

“No, Kank. I’m pregnant.”

The silence between them was heavy. Finally, Kankuro spoke.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it Shikamaru’s?”

“No, Kankuro, it’s the Raikage’s,” she snapped sarcastically.

“Geez, just checking.” He paused. “What’re ‘ya gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think I need to talk to him, first.”

As her brother, Kankuro felt the need to play devil’s advocate and help his sister think through the worst-case scenario. “What if he doesn’t want it?”

“Then I won’t keep it.” There was no hesitation in her statement. Clearly, she thought this through. “If that’s what he decides, that’s it. I’m not going to do this on my own. If that’s the choice he makes, I refuse to be tied to him for the rest of my life like that.” Her voice wavered in a moment of weakness. That wasn’t an outcome she wanted to consider, but she had to be rational. She couldn’t afford to let emotion preside over logic.

“And if he does?”

“Then we need to talk and make some decisions.”

Kankuro reached out and took his sister’s hand in a rare gesture of physical affection. Their family had never been one for hugs or touching, but now felt like the appropriate time to do so. “You know I’ve got your back.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Now, move over. I haven’t seen this episode.” Kankuro gestured to the television, which was currently on mute, before forcing himself into Temari’s hospital bed.

“Kankuro!” Temari tried to force him off. She was laughing, which was clearly her brother’s goal. “Go away!”

“Shhhhhh,” he warned his sister. “I’m trying to watch.”

“It’s on mute, idiot.”

“Oh, yeah. Give me the remote.” He made a ‘gimme’ motion with his right hand, eyes fixed on the small screen.

Temari sighed and passed him the remote, which he used to increase the volume, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He moved a hand back and forth over the top of her head, messing up her unbound hair in a gesture of affection.

When the door to Temari’s hospital room creaked open a few hours later, Kankuro held a finger to his lips, telling the new arrival to be quiet. Temari had fallen back asleep shortly after Kankuro turned on the television, and he hadn’t dared to move. With the same, free hand, he gestured for Shikamaru to enter. Choji walked in behind him, shutting the door once they were inside.

“How is she?” Shikamaru asked in a whisper, quietly moving one of the chairs to her bedside, opposite Kankuro.

“Good, as far as I know. No one’s come to check on her in about two, three hours. I’ve been stuck here pretty much the entire time, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone.”

Shikamaru glanced at the clock. The staff would probably be making their rounds before long. “I guess that’s good news. Better than if she was under constant watch.” He looked down at Temari, who seemed to be fast asleep. “And she’s resting.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if they gave her something, or if she’s just tired, but she’s sleeping like the dead. She’s drooling on me.” Kankuro grimaced at his blissfully unaware sister.

Shikamaru pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed her chart from the foot of the bed. He scanned the doctor’s notes, declaring, “Nothing they’ve given her seems too out of the ordinary. If anything, they’re playing it safe with the doses.”

“She’s probably just tired,” Choji chimed in. “Getting stabbed’ll do that to you.”

Kankuro snorted at the comment.

“Ino could read this better than me,” Shikamaru complained, narrowing his eyes at the abbreviated jargon on the pages. He was frustrated at his lack of expertise in the medical field.

“Just put it down, Shikamaru. We’ll wait for a nurse, and we can find out more, then.” Choji advised. It wouldn’t help his friend to pour over pages of information that he couldn’t understand.

With a frown, Shikamaru slid the clipboard back down on the foot of the bed. “Maybe I should go find one.”

“Quit worrying,” Kankuro scolded. “It’s Tema. She’s gonna get the best care this place can give. Just relax. Watch some tv.” He gestured at the screen, which had long since changed from his favorite show.

“I need a cigarette.”

“Dude, you’re in a hospital. Do I need to buzz somebody to get you an IV?” Kankuro arched an eyebrow, pleased when Shikamaru finally settled back down in his chair. “I mean, if you’re gonna give yourself an ulcer, here’s the place to do it, but I don’t think you wanna go there.”

Shikamaru leaned forward and took Temari’s hand in his. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and she stirred. Her head lifted from her brother’s shoulder and she rubbed her face with her left hand, trying to bring herself back to the waking world.

“There she is,” Kankuro chuckled, finally able to move his right arm. It prickled with pins and needles as his blood flow began to come back.

“Hey, Tema.” Shikamaru squeezed her hand.

“Shika.” She turned her head to look at him, and her stomach dropped. Almost imperceptibly, Kankuro gave her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.

Kankuro shifted out of the hospital bed, giving Temari back her space. “Hey, Choji, how about you come check on the intelligence division with me? Ino doesn’t seem like the type to take a break unless you make her.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.” Choji stood and followed Kankuro out of the room with promises to be back later. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Temari and Shikamaru alone in the hospital room.

Shikamaru brushed her bangs back from her face, admitting, “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t,” Temari joked.

“What did the doctor say? Kankuro said they haven’t been by since he got here.”

“I’ll be fine. I got really lucky, actually; there’s no major damage. I think they plan on keeping me here for a little while, just to be sure, but I should be able to leave in a few days.”

Shikamaru looked her in the eyes and clicked his tongue. “You’re not telling me something.”

Temari looked away. Damn him. She heaved a sigh. “Yeah.” There was no use trying to hide it. He was too smart for that. Besides, Kankuro knew. She loved her brother, but it was only a matter of time before he let something slip. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked for the right words. They were never ones for flowery language or lavish gestures; she wasn’t about to start now. “I’m pregnant.”

Shikamaru stared at her face, waiting for the smirk, the lift of her cheekbones to tell him she was joking. It didn’t come. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed, removing his hand from hers to rub his face with both his hands. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“How long?”

“Around a month.”

Yeah, that was just about right… He rubbed the back of his neck as he drew in a breath through clenched teeth. The irony didn’t escape him, although it was more like some twisted punishment from the universe than a joke. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Temari looked back at him. “I need a little more than that, Shikamaru.”

“Okay. I’m in. What’s our plan?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. Listen, I don’t want you committing to this because you think you have to. I have options. If you’re saying this because you think it’s the right thing to do, or you think you owe me something, tell me.”

“I’ve never bullshit you before.” Shikamaru frowned. “You know me better than that.”

“I know, I just… It’s real, now, you know?”

“Hey, we’ll figure this out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Temari exhaled. “Oh, god, I can’t believe this.”

“Tema, listen.” Shikamaru took her hand. “Everything will work out. I promise.”

Temari bit her lower lip and swallowed. “I believe you.”

#shikatema #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #shikamaru nara #temari of the sand #kankuro of the sand

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elegiesforshiva · 6 years

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Ghosts IX: Homage

Masterpost

Previous | Next

Ino is touching Sai.

Sakura can tell. It’s subtle, but the movement of a right arm beneath the duvet is making a repetitive, vertical motion. If that isn’t evidence enough, the hushed grunts and gasps leaking through Sai’s lips are. The couch makes a rubber squeak under the shifts of his body.

To be fair, Sakura knows it looks like she is asleep. She is lying on another couch and had dozed off enough to let go of the mask of her chakra earlier. Naruto is openly snoring on the other side, having passed out drunk with Hinata curled comfortably in his arms. The credits of a terrible movie they had been watching are now rolling on the neglected t.v. screen. Sakura supposes, had she been Ino, she would have wanted adequate entertainment too.

She listens in, peeking now and then with a sideward glance. Sai’s breaths are coming in shorter, his stature increasingly rigid. She sees Ino slant her face into the crook of his neck and then she makes a sound too. The motions of Sai’s right arm are harder to detect than Ino’s, but when Sakura looks for it, she sees it clear as day. She hears Ino sigh sweetly, and then there’s the sound of a wet suction that can only be a kiss.

Sakura wonders if the fact that she’s more intrigued than disgusted makes her a pervert. Or possibly a voyeur. She knows she would openly watch if she could. She wants to study them, note how their hands move over skin, memerize the discourse between eyes.

Love between the bodies exists—Sakura knows it does. But her curiosity was buried with the horror of unwanted hands on her flesh. Bloody tomoe swirled lazily in her head that day, sparked with the same madness as her intruder—yearning for a past that hadn’t survived. Those cruel, witted eyes took her desire from her, took everything from her.

But Ino has been through the miasma too, hasn’t she? And Sai, poor Sai—still learning to express himself without coming off as an unlubricated machine—is choking out a moan. The two of them are here, doing it right on her couch. They’ve found the secret she is still searching for.

Sakura drinks every bit in, savoring the texture of their pleasure in her mouth like a full meal after too many years of famine. It continues, the uneven breaths, the wet kisses, the small noises. Ino is a little louder than him, but Sakura’s sure it’s only because Sai is making a greater effort to be quiet.

Eventually they begin to fumble beneath the blanket, then remove it to go down the hall, Ino leading Sai with her hand clasped over his. Sakura hears a door open and shut—no doubt Ino’s old bedroom from when she used to live in the apartment. The light from the t.v. screen flashes against the adjacent wall.

Sakura starts to hear Ino’s cries of pleasure, followed by thumps and creaks of a bed. She curls up closer into her own comforter, careful not to disturb Naruto and Hinata on the other side of the couch.

Ino has had sex with countless other people in that very same room, on that very same bed, in what could only be described as a deeply confusing and painful period of her lifetime. Hearing the soft moans of her friend then, with a man she is undoubtedly in love with, softens something inside of Sakura.

She traces intricate swirls and circles on the arm of the sofa, drawing glyphs to the sound of love making. Sakura thinks her hands must be something foreign to move so delicately like that, her skin an opaque blue from the television screen.

When the sounds quiet, Sakura lifts her head up to look over at Naruto and Hinata. Naruto’s nose is burrowed in Hinata’s charcoal hair. She has the wisp of a smile , eyes closed peacefully. The image is surreal and oddly fascinating. For a moment, Sakura imagines that they’re both dead, holding one another in the most peaceful sleep life has to offer. Then Naruto lets out an audacious snore, shattering the image in an instant.

Sakura stands slowly, turning off the t.v. They hadn’t been planning a sleepover—even if Naruto did bring sake as an apology, (only to drink most of it himself.) The movie they chose was just so dull that they all ended up dozing off, Sakura exhausted from her shifts in the hospital, Naruto pleasantly drunk, and Hinata unnaturally relaxed from the massage Sakura had given her.

Sakura switches on the living room light and the Hyuga begins to stir. “Hinata,” Sakura calls, her voice a soft whisper.

“Hm…?” Hinata moans, “S-Sakura-san?” she slurs, saturated with sleep.

Sakura moves over to the couple. “Sorry for waking you,” she whispers. “I just thought it might be better if you two moved to the bed.” Sakura has to hold back from smiling, Hinata straining to look at her through the brightness of the room. The Hyuga heiress looks downright adorable. “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you two weren’t crammed on the couch like this.”

“Oh,” Hinata murmurs, closing her eyes. She exhales gently and asks, “And you?”

“I’ll take the couch,” Sakura explains.

Hinata’s lips pull slightly downward.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s much more roomy when there aren’t two other people on it.”

Sakura thinks Hinata is about to protest, but she just nods tiredly. “Okay,” Hinata mumbles.

She lets Sakura guide her to the bedroom, and easily makes herself comfortable on the plush mattress. Sakura doesn’t bother waking Naruto up, just carries him from the couch to her bedroom, gently laying him by Hinata. Hinata curls into him almost instinctively, probably too tired to bother with modesty. And Naruto responds to her, even in unconsciousness, wrapping a muscled arm around his wife.

“Good night,” Sakura whispers, before heading back to the living room.

Despite being on a sofa, Sakura sleeps better than she has in weeks.

“Sakura, right?”

Sakura turns her head to spot familiar green hair she had seen only a few days ago. “Oh.” She offers him a tired smile. “Hi Kaito.”

She sees the way his eyes twitch wide at the sound of his name and Sakura feels her abdomen twist in an empathic ache. She knows what it’s like to be forgettable too.

His focus is timidly fixed on her. He seems agitated, she observes, his lips scrunched together, shoulders tense. “Is everything alright?” Sakura asks.

Kaito nods, offering a smile much more sincere than hers. “Yeah, I’m just visiting a friend,” he explains.

He’s still rigid, but there isn’t terror in his tone so she can only assume his friend isn’t dying. That’s good. She nods her head, to herself and to him.

“It’s a shame you can’t be on the mission with us,” Kaito says.

Sakura fights the stiffness in her jaw and fingers, and she prepares for an interrogation. Busy at the hospital. But Kakashi said he spoke to Tsunade. Fuck. Chakra block? Then she wouldn’t be here at work right now. Sick friend. Completely bonkers. Needs my help. But then what kind of friend would she be to not commit them to a psych ward.

Maybe he notices her anxiety, because his eyes quiver, stricken with the kind of panic that accompanies a heinous blunder. “Ah—I mean—you’re a brilliant shinobi, is all,” Kaito amends. “I’ve really enjoyed working with you.”

Oh. He isn’t going to ask.

Sakura smiles softly, and she finds she doesn’t need to make an effort to give her features vibrance. “Thank you,” she murmurs, then adds with more confidence, “I’m sure you’re a great shinobi yourself. Hokage-sama wouldn’t have chosen you for such a high class mission if you weren’t.” And it’s true. Kakashi is methodical and calculating. He favors fail-safe options over risky calculations. He’s lost too much to chance already.

“Although we won’t see each other on the mission,” The sensor says. He lifts quivering knuckles to his lips and clears his throat. “Maybe we can see each other after?” Kaito says, and she watches the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows thick. “On a date?” He clarifies.

There’s a tense pause where she tries to grapple with the proposition, flustered, because although this isn’t entirely uncommon for her, it’s not so often these offers feel so earnest. Kaito is looking straight at her, his brown honey struggling to refrain from melting, unease blaring and palpable. Sakura becomes increasingly aware of the purgatory she’s putting this poor nin through as she tries to process the new, tightly wound ball that’s floating in her stomach.

He speaks again, his tempo comes in fast. “I know, this is probably inappropriate—you’re working—I-I just thought…”

He pauses, breaks eye contact for respite before reconstructing himself with greater confidence. “You’re beautiful.” His sincerity is found raw in the texture of his voice and Sakura feels the thing lodged in her gut flutter. “And I would really like to take you out.”

“Yes,” Sakura says quickly, before she can second guess herself. “Yes, I would love that.” She feels a wide smile stretch onto her face, remembering an earlier conversation that implored she give love a fighting chance.

She watches the relief cascade through him, shoulders falling while a saccharine smile bursts through his lips. “Oh...wow. I kind of wasn’t expecting that,” Kaito gives a semi-nervous chuckle. He exhales, stretching the tension away. “Alright, I guess I’ll just come by the hospital after the mission?”

“Sure!” Sakura nods, and she can feel the warmth on her cheeks, the slight speed of her heart. She’s never been on a date before, and she can’t help but feel excited. “If I’m busy or not around, just leave a note with whoever is at the front desk. I’ll get in contact and we can figure out the details.”

“Great,” Kaito nods his head and doesn’t even try to fight back his grin. She likes that. It reminds her of Naruto. Smiles like that are wonderfully contagious things. “I’ll see you then.”

When Sakura walks back home that evening, her thoughts are wrapped in white silk. The sun doesn’t come out as early, and the leaves are nearly all gone now, but she’s warm with the knowledge that she’ll soon be having her very first date.

Some part of Sakura knows she shouldn’t have said yes—that she was sentencing herself and him for disappointment—another little death to survive. Because she isn’t ready. She couldn’t be. There are just too many phantoms flitting around right now and she shouldn’t be dragging someone else to meet them. They cradle her with claws while she sleeps. Sakura is sure of it.

Nonetheless, she’s smiling more often, and even treating herself to small meals and snacks. She imagines and reimagines her first date with Kaito, each one ending with a pair of puckered lips and the heat of being gathered in a pair of bronze arms. Suddenly, Sakura remembers what it’s like to want again.

“Not that I’m not happy for you,” Ino says, dipping a roller in pale green paint. “But maybe you should slow it down. You don’t know him, Sakura.”

“I know,” Sakura says, smiling. “That’s why it’s perfect.”

The living room walls are decided to be Sai’s new project. Ino plans to surprise him by doing the base and so he can skip straight to the decorative illustrations when he comes back from his mission. Sakura has just finished moving the furniture to the center of the room.

“That’s a dangerous game, forehead,” Ino says, rolling a splotch of mint over the base. “We all did that with Sasuke and—”

“He’s not Sasuke,” Sakura interrupts with crass certainty. He isn’t. Nobody is.

Ino looks over at Sakura with a slight pout, before smiling. “You’re right. Let me stop being such a downer.” The paint makes a wet squelch as it meets the wall. “I’m just really protective of you, you know.” And Sakura does.

She watches as several wet lines dribble down from Ino’s workspace. The color is so light it almost blends in with the white beneath it. Almost. “But first dates are super fun. The best part is when you realize it’s going nowhere so you just start making shit up just to see how they’ll react.”

“Pig!” Sakura laughs aloud, the sound foreign to her own ears. It must be to Ino too, because she sees her arm quiver. Fortunately, Sakura’s in a good enough mood that she can ignore it. “How many times did you resort to that?”

“More times than I can count. I was making up completely different personalities too, when I was younger.” Ino says, a wistful grin on her face. “Wasn’t that hard, considering...”

“Oh yeah,” Sakura says, remembering her best friend who wasn’t quite herself anymore—lost in mannerisms and memories that weren’t hers. “How has that been, by the way? Did you ever tell Sai about it?”

Ino just shrugs, looking bored. Sakura nearly cringes at that. “I don’t use the jutsu for that long anymore. It hasn’t gotten that bad in years.”

“You should tell him, Ino,” Sakura reproaches, before hastily amending her tone. “You know, just incase. So he’ll know what to do.”

Ino’s brow twitches and there’s a pregnant pause of idle painting. “I don’t...I don’t want to make it real,” she says, then stares down at the roller in her hand. Sakura makes a sharp inhale and looks away. She didn’t like that statement. She had that same thought when she was younger, and was longing for her love to return.

“Ugh, it’s fine.” Ino groans to herself suddenly. “I manage it so much better now, it’s not even a thing.”

Sakura looks at Ino again, frowning. “But if it happens again, he’ll need to—”

“Forehead,” Ino sighs, her shoulders slumping. She stares at Sakura, half pleading, half chiding. Sakura feels anger unfurl in her chest, and a twinge of guilt too. “If I thought it was a problem, I would tell you, okay?” Ino looks back at the wall, dips her roller into the tray of paint. “It’s in the past. Let’s just keep it there.”

Sakura frowns, wondering how it can be that simple. But she trusts Ino enough to believe her. She mercifully changes the subject. “Before I get my hands wet, do you want me to make tea or something?”

Ino stills, brings a hand to her chin in contemplation before shrugging. “Nah,” she decides. “The only tea we have is some foreign crap Sai bought. It’s supposed to help with cramps or something but it just tastes like ass.”

Sakura smirks fondly. “Sai’s too cute.” She lifts the other roller, admires the way the soft bristles saturate in the green hue when she dips it into the tray. “At least he tries.”

“Yeah, he’s super sweet about it.” Ino smiles. “You’d be surprised how many guys out there get uptight about periods. Meanwhile Sai comes home with some new weird product or technique every month,” she scoffs. “Mind you, the only suggestion I’ve actually liked is fucking.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, smirking. “What a surprise.”

“So tell me about this guy,” Ino says, and Sakura finds herself instantly smiling. “You’ve been on a mission with him before, right?”

Sakura nods, extending her arm upward to roll slick paint on. “He’s a sensor.”

“Oh,” Ino says. “I think a sensor would be good for you. They’re really perceptive. Kind of forces honest communication.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sakura snorts. She sees Ino’s cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s…” Sakura pauses, considering. “Attractive.” She smiles. “And he has green hair. Like green green hair.”

“Oh shit, I think I’ve been in a team with him!” Ino exclaims. “Oh my god, that dude was so hot!” She gushes, “I mean—not like Sasuke or Sai hot, they’re just superhumanly sexy—but shit, I remember he took off his shirt when I was healing him on a mission and ooohh gurl!” Ino says, “Total heartthrob!”

Sakura chuckles, “Pig!” She tries to swallow her nervous smile and hopes her cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel.

“What do you think your babies will look like?” Ino asks. “What color will their hair be?”

“And she tells me to slow down,” Sakura mumbles, her stomach squirming in shared excitement. “Let’s just wait until the first date before we talk about babies, okay?”

Ino laughs lightly, “Yeah, you’re right. We gotta make sure he’s not just trying to get laid or marry rich.”

Sakura nearly chokes on her spit. “Marry rich? I never even thought of that.”

Ino just shrugs. “You’re probably going to be head of the hospital when Tsunade retires, everyone knows you make big bucks.” She lathers the roller in more slick paint. “Y’know, I think if he doesn’t work out, you should try dating a civilian. They’re way less maintenance and drama.”

Sakura tenses because this is code, she’s learned, in ways she didn’t want to.

“She can be difficult,” Kizashi had said casually to a friend, when he was too tired to love her okaasan anymore. Sakura knew she wasn’t supposed to be listening in on their conversation like that, but that’s exactly why she did. Something was wrong with her okaasan and everyone kept pretended like there wasn’t. Sakura had been sick of it. “High maintenance—you know,” Kizashe had amended, not liking his previous diction. “I thought she’d be better after her father passed—that she’d let it go. But she didn’t.”

Sakura recoils, as if she’d been slapped across her flushed cheeks. Her brows furrow and she frowns. “What makes you think I care about that?”

“I mean—I thought that—” Ino falters, hands still as her lips twitch. “I don’t know, simplicity is nice.”

Sakura’s frown deepens. “What?”

Ino bashfully meets her eyes, lips twisted in an anxious line. “Nothing, it was stupid. Just forget it.”

Sakura opens her mouth to question her further, before there’s a sudden, hollow thump thump. The two kunoichi look over at the window, spotting a small canine.

“A mission?” Sakura asks, and Ino walks over to open the window.

“Yamanaka-san!” the orange spotted dog greets, “Hokage-sama has summoned you. He would like to see you as soon as possible!” Ino turns to give Sakura an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” Sakura says, nodding gently. “Go ahead. I’ll just finish up this wall and head out.”

“Thanks, forehead.” Ino smiles soft. She gives her a goodbye hug and squeezes tight. This shouldn’t startle Sakura, but it does.

The embrace is not apologetic, Sakura realizes. Perhaps grateful, but mostly just warm. Affection for the sake of it. It’s so good, the awareness of her own yearning for intimacy tsunamis through her. Sakura has been needing this. She’s been needing it forever.

But then Ino’s pulling away. “You’re the best,” Ino says.

Then she is gone.

“You remind me of my niece,” Yuuto says, a weary smile on his lips. The white tiles and walls, reflecting too-bright lighting is hard on Sakura’s eyes today, and she doesn’t know why. Lack of sleep, her body thinks. Lack of dreams, her head replies.

“Oh? How so?” Sakura asks, running her palm along his bare chest. The vibrant green of her hand is iridescent and makes the pain behind her eyes worse.

“Do you feel discomfort when I do this?” She asks, applying slight pressure to the breastbone. She likes the way he tenses against her, knowing it’s not of pain. It happens often when she’s with patients and she hasn’t tired of it yet. It’s one of the subtle reminders that she’s not just good at this but she belongs. And Sakura never felt like that until Tsunade.

“No, no pain,” Yuuto tells her, and her hands move to his head, gently presses against the forefront of his skull. “You have these moments,” he says then, answering her previous question. “Child-like. I used to think we were all dead before you.”

Sakura’s hands still for a moment, and she gauges the sincerity in his eyes. She wonders if the poison has already ensnared the cognitive functions in his brain.

“Not like innocent, but you’re...well...” He struggles in his search, before his tired eyes marginally lighten, like they’ve caught onto something. “Cute.”

“Cute,” Sakura repeats, wrinkling her nose. She regrets the occupancy of the word in her mouth as much as this conversation.

Yuuto howls then, and she jumps. He’s laughing—rough and throaty but so honest that it steals the breath from her lungs. “Just like that!” He gasps then, before taken by a fit of loud and forceful coughs.

It’s in this moment that Sakura confirms her suspicions. She likes Yuuto. She likes him very much.

Sakura places a chakra loaded palm on his chest and rubs her fingers against his warm skin soothingly. “Easy there,” she says, her smile sincere and taunting. “Laughing to death might be a pleasant way to go, but I’m not done with you yet.” His lips turn upwards and based on the pinch of his brow and heaves of his chest, the smile is painful for him to hold. But he wears it just the same.

“It would be, wouldn’t it?” Yuuto muses with a hum. He looks at her with a fondness in his eyes. Sakura feels undeserving, but her heart pumps forcefully against her ribs, devouring the image with need. It reminds her too much of her Tousan to deny herself the painful pleasure of smiling back.

Finally, she brushes a loose pink strand from her face and begins to scribbles notes. He’s doing worse, unsurprisingly. “We have a new medicine for you,” Sakura says then, skimming over numbers in his chart. “It’s not a cure, but it will slow the poison down.”

She meets his eyes, and she can see the grave dullness has returned. For a moment all she feels is pure anguish for bringing it up. But professional as always, she keeps the rot from her voice. “A nurse will be coming in to administer it through an IV. You’ll probably get a little nausea from it, and maybe a headache, but that should be the worst of it. If you feel anything else, let a staff member know immediately, okay?” He stiffly nods his consent.

“Will I see you again?” He asks then, and Sakura’s self loathing increases incrementally, looking into those lonely eyes of his. She wants to stay, keep him company. But she has to go back to the lab so she can keep him alive. Her medicine isn’t a cure. Not good enough.

“Of course,” she says. “You’re my patient.”

Yuuto doesn’t look satisfied, the frown on his lips still neatly placed above the wrinkle on his chin. He nods anyway, stern and stiff. It’s practiced—the nod of a shinobi after being handed a suicide mission. It makes her sick to her stomach.

“You’re a strong man, Yuuto,” Sakura says. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.” And she sees the weight on his shoulders marginally lift.

When she leaves, Sakura spends her walk to the lab pondering why life demands so much from the dying.

Sakura closes her eyes and tries to block out the rest of the world, her fingers splayed along her lower stomach, gently rubbing. She takes a deep breath, tries to coach herself through this the way she often does. Just relax, Sakura. We can do this.

She considers picturing Kaito. He’s handsome enough. And the thought is at least tangible, something written in the realm of possibility. But the concept is too strange with her not quite knowing the man. So Sakura pictures nothing.

She tries to recall that stranger from her most eerie and pleasant dreams. A man—an Uchiha—she recalls. It’s hard to remember when she’s awake, but she’s catalogued factual pieces the last time she woke up: Long, dark hair, like Madara, with two locks wrapped in strips of cloth to frame a regal face. Bold, azure lines tracing his bottom eyelids. None of it stands out like his Sharingan.

She remembered thinking he was a deity, when he undressed her in her dreams, placed his hot mouth between her legs. He was a man of unmatched caliber, this Uchiha, who wore holy white robes and Sasuke’s sinful smirk. And she remembers she had called him that, because he felt so much like her ex-teammate. She called him Sasuke-kun—like he was ever hers.

Sakura can’t quite grapple onto the memory of yearning in his eyes, but she imitates the way his hands had danced between her legs. It works, and soon enough, she’s sighing at the feel of her fingers meeting her lower petals, parting them gently. With great care and patience, she rubs sweet friction along her folds, working herself up to her peak. It takes longer than it should, her climax evading her. She forcefully exhales, and moves her fingers faster, hoping the stimulation will bring her closer.

It doesn’t, it leaves her feeling raw and distraught. She’s becoming more antsy, feeling herself growing dry. Sakura steals a determined breath and struggles to focus. I can do this. She used to all the time, though she hardly remembers it. She breathes in and out, honing in on the pad of her finger as it grazes her sensitive nub. Then there must be progress because she’s tossing her head to the side to mewl, stomach tight. Something coils inside and the moisture grows. She runs her fingers further down, probing her entrance gently with a single digit.

And then she feels a nukenin’s cold hands on her body, a man possessed forcing himself on her. Inside her.

Her hand stills and her eyes snap open as a tremor crawls through her. She sighs, pulling her hand away to stare up at the whiteness of her ceiling. All traces of her high vaporize, as if it were never there. Sakura buries the feeling that she’s been robbed of something, and with a heavy exhale, she sits up. She smears a frustrated tear off her cheek and crawls out of bed.

The stream from the showerhead is a bleak, liquid winter. Sakura turns the knob and makes it even colder. She has to use all her willpower to stay rooted in that spot, shivering. But that’s okay because she’s gotten good at doing things she doesn’t want to. It’ll help, she thinks, honing in on the loud buzz in her head. Sakura rocks back and forth on her heel, nails pinching hard into her arms as she holds herself. It’ll go away. It always does. It’s just a matter of when.

His tongue was slimy, she remembers. Her nails scrape at her neck, following the path he had forever marked You have her face. The nin had said, wearing a delirious smile. Sakura’s fingers move over her cheeks and wonder if they were ever really hers. Did that girl he saw die during her lifetime? He’d pushed inside her so painfully, so desperately—like he hated and loved her at once. Sakura wonders if she had always been wearing the face of a dead woman.

“Fuck!” Sakura mewls in pain, a burning sensation tearing her from the monochrome. She jerks from the water and her body shakes with the force of her gasps. She looks down at her trembling fingers, cheek throbbing. Her nails are stained with blood and chunks of skin. She’s shaking bad and she’s sure it’s not because she’s cold. She doesn’t want this. A life defined by deaths. She sees okaasan’s eyes—open, chapped lips slightly parted.

“Your kaasan doesn’t hate you,” Kizashi had told her, back when he was alive and full of mirth. He had sounded as if her suggestion was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “She’s just had a hard life.”

“Well, she must think I make it harder,” Sakura said, clutching the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep the tears from her voice. Her pout was as obnoxious as her sadness was honest. Her otousan’s large hand smoothed over her hair.

“She loves you, Sakura,” Otousan said. “She has a hard time showing it, but she loves you. She’s just had a hard life, that’s all.” His voice was mechanical, like this was a mantra he’s spoken for years, though it’s the first time Sakura had heard it.

“What happened to her?” Sakura asked. She felt Kizashi’s arms tense.

He ran his fingers through her hair again and she felt the warmth of his other hand moving up and down her arm, trying to chase a chill away. “It’s complicated,” he had said, and when she looked up, he was staring forward at the wall. “But it’s not your fault. I promise.” He held her closer, and kissed her forehead.

She’d frowned and said nothing. She wanted to believe him, but found she couldn’t.

Her youth didn’t come with naivety and she knew her otousan was wrong. Okaasan looked at her for too long sometimes—like she was seeing through her. It was as if she had already made up her mind long ago.

She imagines if she had come to the bedroom before her mother had passed out, Mebuki would have spent her last breath whispering You did this to me. before her face became the mask of a dead thing too.

Sakura places her palm over her chest, willing her second heart, with it’s second face, to stop beating. She moves back under the shower head, teeth chattering, skin frozen. And her blood is just droplets sprinkled in the water now. Sakura watches it dissolve, fading into liquid clarity. She shuts her eyes and listens to the rush of the cool stream.

It’ll wash away, she thinks, feeling gore on her face and between her legs. It always does. It’s just a matter of when.

A/N: Special thanks to Timafa, who encouraged me to write in that transitional scene. Hopefully future chapters will read smoother for it.

#mine #sasusaku #fanfiction #ghosts #elegiesforshiva #efs writes #homemade trauma soup

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