#fluff ish

~~~~

By now you were acquainted with the game you and Emily seem to have been playing since you first joined the team. It was fun but it led to you going home every night you went home and wondered why she wouldn't make a move. Sure you could just tell her how you felt but where was the fun in that if you knew every button to press to get her all riled up?

The team was headed out for drinks and you knew for a fact that a certain Unit Chief had promised the first round of drinks so you hoped she'd let loose a bit. Tonight was the night you'd push just enough for her to finally take a step.

It was a simple plan, one of the oldest in the book really: Step 1 was to find a dress she wouldn't be able to resist. You picked a deep red, practically maroon dress that was far from modest and a larger leather jacket to combat the cold you knew you'd feel when so much of your body was on show. The dress wasn't too short, it came to just about mid thigh but knowing you could use the fact that Garcia had said to dress up as an excuse made you feel a bit less nervous.

JJ had offered to give you and Tara a ride since she wouldn't be drinking tonight. Michael had a soccer game the next day bright and early and she wasn't the biggest fan of waking up at 7 with a hangover.

When she arrived her and Tara had you do a spin before even getting in the car. "Damn Y/n, got plans for tonight?" JJ asked and Tara chuckled. "I might," you didn't say much more, "Gonna elaborate on that?" Tara asked from the passenger seat. "Nope" you said with a smile knowing they'd figure it out eventually.

Your favourite part of the night had to be the look in Emily's eyes when she helped you out of the car and took in what you were wearing. "Garcia said dress up so I did," you whispered to her with a barely covered smirk.

"Yes you definitely did," she was still staring when Penelope dragged you away to the bar and all night her eyes barely left you. In step 2 you used that to your advantage when a random guy who clearly thought he would be getting lucky with you tonight walked up to you at the bar.

He was mainly talking at you about whatever it was he thought made him interesting as you just nodded along and took an occasional glance over his shoulder at Emily. "I was thinking, can I get your number?" he said as he took a step closer and put his hand on your waist. His body was unfortunately close to yours but when you looked at where Emily sat she was gone.

You were confused as she was just there a moment ago until a familiar hand came from behind, pulling you away from him and against her chest. You were surprised when she ended up fully pressed against you and when you turned you saw the cold stare she gave the man, he ran off as if he'd seen a ghost.

She didn't even care to see where he went as she turned you to her and pinned you to the bar. "What the hell was that?" she practically growled. "What? It's not like I was doing anything wrong, last I check I'm still single." You have her you most innocent eyes as you fought your smug grin. Slowly all you steps fell to the wayside.

"Fine. You wanna play pretty girl? Go, I won't stop you." She went to pull away but just as her body separated from yours you pulled her back by the waist of her pants. "No wait, don't go." You whined a bit that she wouldn't just say the words.

She stopped and looked at you expectantly, you grabbed her hand and pulled her to the washrooms. The second you walked in she pushed you into a stall and your back hit the wall as she pinned you.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" she said with a finger under your chin so she could force you to look her in the eye. "I thought you were single?" "Maybe I don't want to be anymore," she wasn't going to confess but maybe you could push her to getting there. "Well you certainly picked the right dress for it, you've had people lined up all night waiting for you to notice them." Her lips trailed up and down your neck, just brush where you wanted more.

"I didn't wear the dress for them Emily I wore it for you!" You were getting more and more needy by the second especially when her hand then slipped under the hem of your dress, hiking higher and higher. "Really? Tell me pretty girl, what did you imagine me doing to you in this dress?"

"I imagined you taking it off of me and then using me like you own me." You said breathlessly and she groaned at the thought, her fingers trailing up your thighs to just where you needed her the most.

"You're mine." She says as her bites your neck.

You gasp at the sensation and buck into her hand, "I'm yours."

sasuke closed the book, tucking it beneath his arm as he was about to head to the librarian's desk.

taking a deep breath, you approached him and asked him, "forgive me if i'm wrong, and shoot me in the head if i definitely am but... did i... by chance..." you squinted your eyes and sighed "suck you off in the bathroom at the frat party?"

sasuke's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your blunt question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. for a moment, he simply stared at your, his silence speaking volumes about his thoughts. then, without warning, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. it was a dark, wicked laugh, full of unspoken implications.

"oh, you definitely sucked me off," he confirmed, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

you slumped against the book shelf. you hoped to god you hadn't embarrassed yourself. "was it... at least... satisfactory?"

he took a step closer, invading your personal space until you were nearly touching. "satisfactory?" he repeated, his tone low and husky. he smirked, and leaned forward a little "let's say... i wouldn't be forgetting it so easily."

he reached out, tracing a finger along your jawline, his touch electrifying despite its gentleness. "but don't think this means anything beyond that, understand?"

you nodded. "yeah... i know..."

sasuke's finger slid down your neck, coming to rest on your collarbone. he applied gentle pressure, guiding you to lean into his touch, his thumb brushing against your pulse point.

"good," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. 

"because i don't do attachments, y/n. i don't get involved. and i certainly don't fall for anyone." his words were a stark reminder of the cold, hard truth of his existence. but even as he spoke them, sasuke couldn't help but notice the way your skin tingled under his touch, the subtle flush that spread across your cheeks.

"it was just a hookup, nothing more," he continued, his voice firm. "don't read too much into it."

"that was it though right? i just gave you a blowjob? no sex right?" i asked for confirmation.

a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or a hint of dark satisfaction—crossed sasuke's features at your inquiry. he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he replied in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"no sex, but not for lack of trying on my part," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "you were too drunk and stoned to consent properly. wouldn't have wanted to take advantage of you in that state."

"fair enough. cool... see you around, sasuke," your offered him a small smile, thankfully remembering his name from that hard-to-hear-over-the-music round of introductions at the party.

sasuke nodded curtly in response, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before he turned to leave.

as the days passed, sasuke couldn't help but notice you around campus. you didn't actively seek him out, nor did you avoid him—just a steady, neutral presence that he couldn't quite place. it was the perfect purgatory for what had happened, neither resolved nor completely dismissed.

he saw you with sakura, ino, tenten, temari, and hinata from time to time, but always observed from a distance how you seemed to prefer solitude, especially during lunch. while others gathered in groups, you were often tucked away under a tree or sitting alone in the cafeteria, lost in a book or deep in thought.

one night, sasuke and you walked into each other at the local convenience store outside campus. both of you had missed the canteen dinner; you because you'd been studying all night at the library and lost track of time, and him because he'd just returned from a late night workout at the gym he went to.

he grabbed a pack of onigiri and some instant miso soup, while you opted for steamed and grilled chicken with rice and a side of kimchi. the convenience store’s window-facing table had stools lined up neatly on one side, offering a view of the dimly lit street outside.

you both sat there, side by side, the quiet sound of chewing and the occasional clink of chopsticks against plastic containers filling the space between you.

sasuke stole a few glances your way, his eyes catching on the loose curls framing your face and the smudge of red pepper on your lower lip. he resisted the urge to comment, instead focusing back on his onigiri, though his thoughts lingered on the fleeting details he couldn’t seem to ignore; how your lips had swollen due to the spice, turning hot pink.

on the way back to campus, just before you both parted ways, him heading back to his house outside campus, you to your dorm, sasuke abruptly pulled you under an archway. in the quiet dark, with no one around, the risk felt minimal. pressing you against the cold brick wall, his hands settled firmly on your waist. he didn’t even bother justifying it to himself—he didn’t need to. a fleeting, meaningless makeout, he reasoned, was harmless.

his lips crashed against yours, hard and demanding, seeking to claim every inch of your mouth. fuck, he could taste the hot, spicy pepper on your lips. sasuke's tongue delved deep, exploring the warmth of your mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperation. he swallowed your gasps, drinking in the sound of your breath mingling with his own. his hands roamed her body, tracing the curves of your hips, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts.

he'd done this so many times, used so many girls on campus. this was just like that. right?

just physical. nothing else. he told himself as he made out with you ferociously, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to caress the warm skin of your abdomen.

the sound of the patrol guards snapped you out of your trance. sasuke pulled away slightly, licking at the strands of saliva that stretched as your mouths parted. he didn't say anything and turned around to exit the campus, leaving you heaving against the brick wall.

just like that, sasuke walked around campus like he hadn't shoved his tongue in your throat last night. he was a lone wolf, but occasionally hung out with naruto and shikamaru.

during the annual model un debate marathon, all the academically gifted students prepared rigorously under the guidance of their mentors and a few seniors. you got roped into it thanks to temari's insistence. as the first lady of the event, she claimed to have a 'gut feeling' about your knack for diplomacy. to prepare you, she assigned a task: interview the 'leaders' of various clubs and gather insights, for god knows what. probably just practice interviews to see if you could ask the right questions.

ipad in hand, you set off to complete the task. first on your list was sakura, who answered every question with the precision and authority of a seasoned leader. after her, you visited a few other club heads, jotting down their insights and anecdotes.

then, as you wandered further, you spotted naruto lounging about with sasuke and shikamaru. steeling yourself, you approached the blond man, ready for whatever unpredictable energy he would bring to the conversation.

sasuke listened intently as you interviewed naruto, his expression impassive. he noted the ease with which the blond spoke, the genuine enthusiasm that radiated from him—a stark contrast to his own reserved nature.

as the interview wrapped up, his gaze shifted toward you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you. composed and confident. absolutely unbothered.

when you glanced in his direction, your eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. then, without a word, sasuke turned away, resuming his study of the surrounding area, his thoughts still wandering back to your furtive encounter under the archway.

naruto leaned in, his grin as wide as ever. "you preparing for the mock un thing?" he asked casually.

"yeah," you replied, keeping it short.

"hmm," naruto mused, inching closer, his face way too close for comfort. "you know... i've always wanted to see you in a heated argument," he added with a playful smirk.

sasuke, standing nearby, didn’t react outwardly, but the way his jaw tightened betrayed a flicker of irritation at naruto’s proximity to you.

you gave naruto a sly smile. "good to know i have fans," you quipped, leaning back slightly to regain your space.

shikamaru, who had been half-listening, snorted at your response, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

on the day of the debate, the hall buzzed with energy—spectators filled the seats, camera crews adjusted their angles, spokespeople hovered with clipboards, and faculty members mingled near the stage. naruto, as the principal’s son, occupied a seat in the exclusive VIP booth. alongside him sat sasuke, there by virtue of his position as the son of the guest of honour...the revered royal: uchiha fugaku, who exuded an air of stern authority, while itachi, sasuke’s older brother, carried his usual composed demeanour. sasuke, however, felt the familiar weight of his father’s gaze, a subtle pressure that always tightened his chest. he hated whenever fugaku was around, the man’s very presence a reminder of expectations sasuke wasn’t sure he wanted to fulfil.

you stood with temari and her brother gaara, the primary leaders of konoha's debate team. temari, always poised and confident, held the title of first lady, and you were second chair. your presence was calm, but commanding, as you stood tall in your outfit. you wore a gorgeous white satin shirt, the fabric hanging loosely over your frame, the black lacy camisole underneath peeking out just enough to catch sasuke's black hawk-eye vision. the subtle detail didn’t escape his attention. you paired it with black flared trousers, adding an air of elegance, and finished the look with classic black louboutins, the heels clicking softly with every movement. the combination of elegance and understated power gave you an aura of tranquility, making you seem unbothered by the chaos around you.

as the debate progressed, sasuke found himself increasingly engaged, his strategic mind whirring as he considered various scenarios and counterarguments. he watched the speakers carefully, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he analyzed each point, mentally calculating how he would dismantle their arguments if he were in their position. despite the outward calm, there was a fire inside him, a desire to outmaneuver and outthink everyone around him.

"and what about the two other countries claiming ownership over that island? you do realize that removing the political warfare won’t just make them agree it should be its own state, right?" the opposing member made his point.

temari wrote it down, and you took over, stepping up to speak. in the entire hall, when everyone was rushing to make their points harshly, to intimidate, you were the only one who spoke calmly, almost gently.

"indeed, it’s like the olympics of territorial disputes, isn’t it?"

you continued, voice steady, with just the right amount of lightness.

"we’ll set up diplomatic obstacle courses – navigating through bureaucratic red tape, hurdling over historical grievances, and of course, the ultimate challenge: finding common ground in international law. and to keep things interesting, we’ll have a diplomatic decathlon with events like synchronized treaty drafting and synchronized eye-rolling at stalemate situations."

you paused, letting the laughter ripple through the room.

"maybe, in the end, amidst the friendly competition, they’ll realize that cooperation isn’t just a buzzword – it’s the ultimate medal-worthy move in the game of global politics. and, hey... think of the tourism revenue."

the room filled with laughter. the opposing team was slowly losing their patience.

the debate raged on, tempers flaring, but you tried to stay calm. in the end, the debate tipped in konoha's favour. the opposing university lost face entirely when their speaker, assuming the mics were turned off, got impatient and insulted you, whispering to his teammate:

"please, big tits and a pretty face don't make a good diplomat"

people gasped, his team tried to get him to shut up. you shrugged. "maybe the d in diplomat stands for D cups," you murmured.

sasuke held back a choking cough.

at the end, your team took pictures with the principal and the guest of honour.

as fugaku shook hands with you, patting your shoulder and offering his congratulations, sasuke stood off to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly.

seeing his father interact with you, so effortlessly cordial, did something to sasuke. a mix of frustration, irritation, and... something else. he couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the sight of his father, the legendary uchiha royalty, showing such warmth to you, when he rarely offered it to sasuke, was enough to gnaw at him.

sasuke didn’t like feeling this way. but he couldn’t tear his gaze away as fugaku moved on to the next person, still smiling, still the perfect picture of political diplomacy. meanwhile, sasuke just stood there, feeling... something he wasn’t ready to admit.

naruto and his dad, minato, the principal, also congratulated you. naruto casually slung his arm around your shoulder, talking to his dad about you with that easy smile of his. sasuke watched from the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

sasuke stood there, forcing his focus elsewhere, but the sight of you and naruto laughing, of minato joining in, lingered in his mind, eating away at him more than he wanted to admit.

afterwards, as people started to disperse, naruto invited you to have lunch with his dad, minato, and sasuke’s dad and brother. by extension, that meant you’d be having lunch with sasuke as well.

the idea didn’t sit well with sasuke. he wasn’t keen on having lunch with his father in public.

minato and fugaku treated everyone to a nice restaurant, and you found yourselves in a private booth. you sat by the window, enjoying the view. naruto, ever the energetic one, leapt into the seat beside you, practically throwing himself onto the cushions. sasuke, however, was stuck sitting across from you, next to his brother itachi. the whole arrangement made him uneasy, his discomfort only growing as he sat beside his family, with you just across the table.

sasuke's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as naruto continued to rest a casual hand on your thigh beneath the table. the sensation of his fingers creeping ever closer to your inner thigh didn't go unnoticed.

naruto, unaware of the storm he was causing, casually commented, "i think you might have a candidate for your diplomat panel, mr fugaku," glancing over at the elder uchiha, who hummed in approval.

"an internship is always a possibility," fugaku responded, his voice smooth and detached as if everything were completely normal.

you, on the other hand, seemed lost in your own world, barely touching your food, the silence around you broken only by the quiet hum of polite conversation. sasuke's eyes flickered to your face, to your lack of appetite.

"i tried to get my youngest in, but seems that he has no knack for subtlety. itachi is the current leader on my panel. perhaps she can learn a thing or two," fugaku said, the slight jab at sasuke going unnoticed by most at the table but not by him. fugaku's words lingered in the air, his casual dismissal of sasuke barely scraping the surface of what seemed like an ongoing, deeper rift between father and son.

sasuke was used to his father's indifference, the weight of expectation always heavier than his ability to meet it. but there was a flicker—just the briefest flash—of sadness that passed over his face.

noticing the change in his demeanour, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. beneath the table, your heel lightly tapped his leg, the small touch a quiet question in a sea of unspoken tension.

'you okay?' your eyes asked.

sasuke’s eyes briefly met yours, the usual guarded look softening just enough for you to catch the underlying frustration, but his expression remained unreadable as ever. he didn’t speak, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave you was enough to tell you that the question, for now, had been answered.

sasuke noticed the way you had barely touched your food, your discomfort apparent as the conversation danced around you. naruto’s flirtatious gestures and the discussion about your potential role with fugaku’s panel seemed to be weighing on you, and he could see it in the way your fork hovered over your plate, your mind far away from the meal before you.

without making a scene, sasuke quietly leaned in, his movements subtle and deliberate. he began taking small pieces of food from your plate, slipping them onto his own as though it was part of the natural rhythm of the meal. each bite he took, he made sure it looked like you were eating, his actions measured so as not to draw attention.

sasuke’s phone buzzed softly, and he glanced down. your message was simple, but it carried the weight of a memory only the two of you shared. he smirked ever so slightly, the corners of his lips twitching as he read your text.

unknown: you still got that suspicious weed from the party?

he knew exactly what that meant — that one joint, the one you had shared when everything felt different, when he had indulged, and especially after you'd sucked him off in the bathroom at the frat house. how could he forget that.

sasuke typed a deliberate response, just to be sure, and your phone buzzed.

sasuke: who dis

cocky bastard. you smiled to yourself before typing.

unknown: testicle left

sasuke snorted an unexpected laugh and actually saved your number as such. so did you.

testicle right: anyway, yes, i still got it

testicle left: annnnnd, do i still have the privileges?

testicle right: maybe

[sorry, this is just too funny for me ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽]

————————

at 10 pm, you arrived at sasuke's house, and it immediately struck you how grand it was— a literal mansion. the kind of place you only saw in movies, with a towering façade and expansive grounds. you couldn't help but assume he lived with his family, servants, and all the other luxuries that came with this kind of wealth. still, you hadn't expected just how lavish it would feel up close.

as sasuke had instructed, you entered through the back door, which was conveniently left open for you. the moment you stepped inside, a black doberman pounced at you. you yelped softly, instinctively taking a step back as the dog barked aggressively, its dark eyes gleaming with energy.

just as the dog lunged, sasuke appeared from the darkness, moving with inhuman speed. in one fluid motion, he grabbed the dog's collar, halting its attack with a firm, commanding grip.

"spike, relax," he said calmly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the quiet of the mansion.

the doberman whimpered, its earlier aggression fading into submission. its tail wagged slightly, and it looked up at sasuke with adoring eyes, as if it had been momentarily caught up in the excitement.

you looked at the dog, then at sasuke. "lovely bodyguard you have there."

"he's loyal, which is more than i can say for most people," sasuke remarked dryly, his eyes never leaving your face. there was a subtle bitterness in his tone, like a quiet echo of the isolation he'd built around himself.

without waiting for a response, he turned and led the way deeper into the mansion. the sound of his footsteps echoed off the marble floors, creating an almost eerie silence in the vastness of the house. you wondered how many rooms there'd be.

"do you have a dungeon?"

sasuke threw a glance at you from the corner of his eye, the tiniest of smirks etched on his face.

he quietly led you up to his bedroom. the space mirrored his personality—dark and minimalistic. grey walls, a few electric guitars hanging on one side, their sleek bodies almost blending into the shadows. a bookshelf lined one wall, filled with editions you could only assume ran through his family, the kind of books that carried a weight of legacy.

his bed was a king-sized affair, draped with oxford blue silk sheets that caught the dim light, a soft and thick comforter neatly folded at the foot, and black pillows arranged with meticulous care. everything about the room exuded a sense of controlled luxury, but there was also a coldness, a detachment that seemed to seep into every corner.

the room had a balcony that overlooked the night sky, the stars barely visible through the slight haze of city lights, casting a dim glow over everything. it was the kind of space where everything felt distant—like it was meant to keep people at arm's length.

without a word, he strode over to the liquor cabinet, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. his movements were measured, effortless—like a ritual. he poured a generous amount into each glass, the amber liquid catching the low light in a way that felt almost intentional.

you took the glass gently, the weight of it grounding you. you both stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin, contrasting with the warmth of the whiskey in your hand. clinking your glasses together in a silent toast, you took a sip, immediately feeling the burn of the alcohol hit your throat.

"jesus..." you coughed softly, surprised by its potency.

"it's strong, isn't it?" he observed, taking a sip himself.

leaning against the railing, sasuke’s gaze turned to the star-filled sky, his mind adrift in a sea of thoughts. he couldn’t help but wonder about the complexity of his attraction with you. you were a temptation—one that both unsettled and intrigued him.

"does... your dad always do that?"

for a moment, sasuke was silent, his gaze distant as if lost in the shadows of memories long past.

"my father's opinions don't matter," he finally muttered, his voice coated with disdain. he took another swig of whiskey, the sharp burn cutting through him in a way that felt almost cathartic.

you studied his face intently, watching the way his features tightened, the subtle signs of the pain he still carried.

"sorry he does that to you..." you said quietly, your voice soft, genuine.

"it's not your concern," sasuke muttered, his voice rough, like it was struggling to break free from the weight of everything he kept buried inside. the words were cold, but there was a slight crack in them.

your gaze fell to the guitars in the background. you recognised one of the guitars. holding back a gasp, you looked at sasuke and asked as humanly calmly as you could, "why do you have the akatsuki bassist's guitar on your wall?"

sasuke visibly tensed, his body stiffening as though you’d struck a nerve. for a split second, the room seemed to hold its breath. he hadn’t told anyone about it, not a single soul. not even the people closest to him knew. only his family did. akatsuki was a disbanded band from five years ago, a group of masked teenage musicians whose music had been too controversial, too ahead of its time. the band had collapsed under the weight of public backlash. sasuke had been their bassist.

he hadn’t expected you to recognise it.

sasuke's thumb absently traced the edge of his glass, his gaze drifting away from yours as he muttered, "it's either obsession or severe autism for you to recognise that shit." he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

your jaw fell, morphing into a wide knowing grin. "oh... my god. are—were you... the bassist?"

sasuke almost groaned at your question, the embarrassment creeping up on him. he shifted uncomfortably before finally nodding.

you clamped your mouth shut, hiding the huge smile spreading across your face.

sasuke shot you a glare, leaning forward slightly, whiskey on his breath as he threatened you to keep it to yourself. "don't fucking say a word." he muttered, his voice low and intense.

you nodded, and shook your head at the same time.

"you still good?"

a wry smile tugged at the corners of sasuke's mouth at your question.

"good enough," sasuke replied, his tone nonchalant, but a hint of pride crept into his voice. he could see your doe eyes looking up at him expectantly.

sighing, he sauntered towards the guitars, plucking out a sleek black bass guitar with four thick strings, a small red cloud etched on the curve of the front. plugging it into the amplifier, he tuned it to perfection, strumming a few notes with a casual ease.

he sank onto the carpeted floor, resting against the bed that was bolted to the floor, the sound of the guitar filling the space between you two. you sat next to him, whiskey glasses by your feet, the tension from earlier fading into the background.

sasuke plucked a few bass notes, the sound of his old songs drifting into the air. each note was sharp, clean, and deliberate, as though the music had never really left him.

you could hear history in the strings, the quiet intensity of the sound filling the air, as sasuke's fingers moved fluidly over the bass, a ghost of the band that had once existed.

[im using . by girl in red for reasons that shall hopefully make sense (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) and idk if u can hear my voice over my guitar and the instrumental - bear in mind i don't have studio equipment nor a bass guitar, so it's just an electric]

halfway, you recognised the song. without thinking, you reclined back against his bed, your voice rising in accompaniment, a feminine contrast to the grating bass that sasuke had mastered.

sasuke's fingers faltered for a moment, the unexpected blend of your voice catching him off guard. his gaze flickered to you, but he didn’t say anything.

but he could hear the rest of the band echo through his memories, itachi's keyboard, obito's drums. he had been used to the raw, almost abrasive sound of hidan’s vocals, the chaos they brought to every performance. but with you, it felt… different. the rough edge had softened, replaced by a smoothness that made the song feel more personal, more intimate. a slight unease stirred within him. he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this kind of harmony until now.

he hadn’t expected this—hadn’t even known you could sing, let alone with such haunting beauty. as the final notes faded away, a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the steady hum of the amp. sasuke's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

"you've got... a voice," he muttered, the words rough, as if admitting it was a struggle. he took a sip of his neglected whiskey.

"sounds exactly as it was... man... that was a phase," you said, looking up at the ceiling.

sasuke smiled unbeknownst to him, "yeah? you a fan?"

you nodded. "i know all 36 songs by heart."

sasuke snorted a laugh. it felt so silly now, but back then, when he was a teenager, had he heard that somebody memorised the songs he wrote and performed with his brother, he'd have been on cloud nine.

"may i?" you asked, looking at his acoustic guitar, your voice soft but laced with a hint of curiosity, as if expecting to be refused.

for a moment, sasuke simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, to his own surprise, he nodded once, curtly.

"fine," he said, his voice a little gruff. he stood up, retrieving a slender acoustic guitar from its stand. with a swift motion, he handed it to you, your fingers touching briefly.

you hesitated for a second, the weight of the guitar settling in your hands.

"heh. i have the same one," you said, holding his black granada six-string guitar, your fingers tracing its familiar curves.

"you do?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity as he sat back down, sipping his whiskey, his dark eyes fixed on you.

you strummed gently, pausing to tune the guitar by ear, the way he had earlier. the chords you played were unfamiliar to him.

then, softly, you sang as you strummed—a short verse, simple yet poignant, a melody that seemed to resonate with the quiet ache of sasuke's life, a toast to his inner turmoil.

the gentle, soothing quality of your falsetto in the chorus washed over sasuke like a calming wave. his gaze softened, his sharp features losing their edge.

perhaps you were a little like him. broken, hurt, but trying.

"you write those yourself?" there was a note of awe in his question, a hint of reverence for the artistic talent he'd just witnessed.

you chuckled. "oh, no, that's taylor swift."

a small, surprised laugh escaped sasuke's lips at your casual admission. taylor swift? he wouldn't have pegged you as a fan of the pop star, especially given the solemn, introspective nature of the song you'd just sung.

"not my usual cup of tea, but..." sasuke trailed off, his gaze flickering between you and the guitar, as if reassessing something he thought he already knew about you.

you placed his guitar gently beside you, its neck resting against sasuke's bed. taking a sip of the whiskey, its warmth spread through your chest, grounding you.

as promised, sasuke lit the joint—the same unique blend you'd shared in the bathroom during your first day at the frat house party. after taking a slow drag, he handed it to you.

leaning back against the bed, arms crossed, sasuke's dark eyes followed your every movement as you took a hit.

you exhaled slowly, turning to him. "are you okay?" you asked, your voice calm but probing.

"i'm fine," he replied curtly, his tone brushing the question aside like an unwanted fly.

you scoffed lightly, taking another short drag before passing the joint back to him. "you're a bad liar," you said, your voice holding a faint challenge.

sasuke's eyes narrowed at your words, annoyance flashing briefly across his face. he accepted the joint, taking a long, deliberate pull before responding.

"you don't know anything about me," he muttered, his voice low and guarded, a clear warning not to press further.

you looked away, your gaze falling on the balcony and the glowing moon hanging in the distance. "right..." you murmured softly, a faint edge of resignation in your tone. it was a quiet reminder to yourself that no matter how much you pried, he was always going to keep you at arm’s length.

his dog, spike, entered through the dog door into the room, his paws padding softly on the carpet. without hesitation, the doberman approached sasuke, licking at his arm and neck, before turning his sharp gaze toward you. a low growl rumbled from his throat.

"easy, boy," sasuke murmured, placing a calming hand on spike's broad head. his voice was firm yet soothing, instantly easing the dog's tension.

you smiled at the intimidating dog, holding out your hand with quiet confidence. spike sniffed cautiously, his ears twitching as he seemed to assess you. sensing the calm energy you radiated, he let out a soft huff before pressing his snout into your palm.

settling near you, the dog stretched out, his eyes growing heavy as you continued to pet his head gently, your touch light and rhythmic.

sasuke's gaze drifted from your hand resting on spike's head to your face. the serene expression you wore, paired with the calming energy you seemed to exude, caught him off guard.

he watched, almost envious, as spike—a creature so fiercely loyal and protective—melted under your touch. a part of him wished he could possess that kind of purity, that unspoken ability to soothe and calm just by being present. perhaps that was why his turbulent personality gravitated so strongly toward your softer, steadier one.

the heady mix of the weed and whiskey coursing through his system dulled his inhibitions. before he could think twice, sasuke leaned in, his lips brushing your shoulder in a fleeting, absent-minded kiss. the tip of his cold nose nuzzled against your skin as he kept pressing soft kisses.

as sasuke pulled back, a faint flush of embarrassment crept up his cheeks, stark against his pale complexion. his mind raced, trying to process the impulsive gesture. his dark eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them—shame, confusion.

"forgive yourself, sasuke," you whispered, your voice tender yet firm.

sasuke's initial reaction was a suspecting frown, a glare he was used to deploying

"i... can't", he managed to whisper, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

you turned to sasuke, your movements deliberate and tender. your hands reached for his face, your fingers brushing against the sharp edges of his jawline, before sliding into the soft strands of his black hair. his breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy, his body tensing as though preparing to push you away.

without hesitation, you gently pulled him toward you, wrapping your arms around his rigid frame. his head rested against your shoulder. you held your breath, aware that there was a 50% chance he’d shove you away. but as seconds passed, his resistance faltered, and his body sagged slightly against yours.

he didn’t reciprocate the hug—his arms stayed limp at his sides—but he didn’t pull away either. his breathing grew uneven, and you felt the faint tremor in his shoulders.

you never pulled away from hugs first; god knows how much people might have needed one. so you stayed, as long as he let you.

minutes later, he pulled away, avoiding your gaze, downing his whiskey with one gulp.

"i'll lock the back door on my way out..." you whispered, getting ready to leave his house.

he just nodded.

"How?"

"I thought you'd tell me that." You chuckle.

"No- how did you know?!" All guys at that age were something of an enigma, or fancied themselves to be, but Peter was especially distant and mysterious. When things ended between you and he managed to make himself off grid, you began to wonder. All speculation at the time, but Peter’s reaction is certainly telling.

"Spandex doesn't leave much to the imagination.” You tease. “Something about the shape of his...body...was familiar." You smile mischievously.

"You're telling me, you knew I was Spiderman because of the outline of his c-"

"No, but I do know now!" The blush on Peter's face made you want to kiss him.

"Are you serious?" 

"About your cock? No. About knowing you're Spiderman, 100%."

"...when did you realise it was me?"

"Shortly after you left. Obviously I saw Spiderman on screen a hell of a lot more than I saw you, in any capacity and I could just see that same...energy."

"Is that what we are calling my dick now?" Your free hand covers your face. 

"Pete!" His face softens, a strange, sweetness spreading over it. "…What?"

"Something about being called Pete makes me feel like a 40 year old man who harasses women at the bar." You suppress the laughter. "But when you say it..." He looks down. "At the risk of sounding as much a prick as I was when we last saw each other, can we go somewhere more private? I don't think everyone needs to know how badly Spiderman regrets his last sexual encounter with you." 

“Excuse me?!”

“No I-”

“Christ Peter, I think I got the hint enough when you left after it happened.”

“No, please.” He raises his hands as though he is going to reach out and touch you. But he doesn’t. “That’s not what I meant and exactly what we need to talk about.” His eyes keep flicking to your mouth and whilst you so desperately want to slap him, part of you can't dismiss the way it felt before he left you last. You nod, leaving the cappuccino on the table to follow him out the door.

 When he opens his flat door he stands to the side, ushering you through. "Please, ladies first."

"Plural? Damn. Once a ladies man, always a ladies man I guess." He rolls his eyes.

"I'm a one at a time guy. The last was...a French teacher. Spoke a lot of French. It was hot." You spin around with a look of what must be shock. “You know, I think I am going to shut my mouth and think about what I say before I say it.”

Your silence allows the thoughts to ruminate. You two have been nothing to one another for a long time. You only wished you'd made the most of your singledom. "Your bothered about the French teacher." He says, sitting down on the couch.

"It has nothing to do with me." You speak softly. Though true, it's hard to admit. It’s hard for Peter to hear too. He didn’t want to leave, he just thought he was doing the right thing. As it stands, he seems to have no measure of the way in which to minimise people’s pain.

“I wish it did.”

“Okay, next time you guys get it on, send me a quick text.” You jest weakly and he rolls his big, beautiful eyes.

"You're so annoying."

"So are you." You defend. You pause. You shake your head. “All this time and you swan in like nothing changed." There was a distance to your words, as if you’d thrown them into the air particles of the apartment, not wanting to address the electric thoughts running through you.

"I know."

"And nothing has." You whine immaturely, putting your head in your hands, leaning over your lap.

"I know." He strokes the back of your neck, tentatively: possibly the most intimate moment you had shared with one another in all the time you had known him. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" Your voice is muffled.

"Why has nothing changed for you?"

“Maybe coming to terms with you being Spiderman softened your exit and helped me understand some of it. It wasn’t your typical fuck boy going off to fuck my best mate or something. You just disappeared and it kind of hurt.” Your words fade.

"How did you really know I was Spiderman?"

"Like I said…or implied, it was a guess! Though an educated one. But you are the most recklessly, selfless man I know. Even without webs or superpowers you would have leapt off a bridge for-" You stop. Peter looks uncomfortable. He did jump off a bridge. For Gwen.

"Peter." You sigh and put your hand over his. He turns his hand and your palm falls into his daintily. 

"I loved her a lot." You nod. "But in a way I..." He squeezes your hand. "She died so long ago, people always said I was still in love through college. I think still having to be Spiderman, every waking hour, mostly, meant I couldn't ever separate the superhero loss from my heart’s loss." You blink, unprepared for such a conversation. "Something you did that day or something about how you made me feel felt like I was cheating on her."

"I'm sor-"

"No, no. Don't apologise. You weren't to know I was there when it happened." He swallows and you sense a shift. “Can I kiss you?” You are thankful for him taking control of the situation.

You share a soft, gentle kiss and a smile between you. It’s a relief. For both of you. Peter leans in again, confidence finding its way into the kiss, making it deeper, darker and hotter.

You feel it low in your body and moan. Peter pulls back, staring at you with something like alarm.

"What? Forgotten what a woman enjoying herself sounds like?"

"I will not make a comment about pleasing women and instead refer you to the knowledge that I had committed that sound to memory and wondered if I had actually heard it or made it up again." He eyes up your neck before going in, nipping, sucking and licking. You sigh loudly and crumble under his advances. You reach over and stroke the stiff denim of his vintage jeans. He groans against your neck and you continue, undoing the buttons and zipper with only a slight fumble. "Nervous, sweetheart?" The reality was staggering. The idea of fucking him was one thing, but his confession about the moan had you wondering if he was just as sentimental about this as you were.

You look down and see Peter has been freed from the confines of his boxers and you are breathless with what you feel might be fear. "Is it how you remember?" His breathy whisper is accompanied by a smirk, making your heart race.

"Peter, if you think I've spent five years committing your genitals to memory you've got another thing coming." You laugh, weakly.

"Hopefully you." His fingertips trace up your left thigh, disturbing the dress in its place. "You want to come, don't you?" His eyes search yours as you struggle to catch your breath. "I've missed this." Somehow his hand is under your dress, stroking at the front of your underwear. You gasp. "Such a good pussy. Fuck knows I haven't forgotten it in five years." Each slow graze of his fingers has you hooked on every word. "You in there?" He kisses your jaw. You can't speak. Something akin to a squeak passes your lips and he throws his head back with laughter, withdrawing his fingers from the tormenting. You can’t recall the last time he bellowed like that. For a long time he seemed troubled. He was troubled. You just didn't know how badly at the time.

You want to envelop him in your arms and kiss him forever, but the ache in your chest tells you you don’t know how long you have.

You're looking at him for some time before you realise he's caught your empathetic gaze. "You look gorgeous when you look at me like that." The thoughts flow freely from his conscience.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like you want to protect me or something." 

"I suppose I do."

"I am definitely ruining the sentiment when I'm sat here with my dick out."

“FUCK,” comes Lambert’s muffled shout, followed by a several crashes and a yelp of pain. Ciri giggles quietly into Eskel’s palm, and Eskel chews on his grin before doing it again. “What the heck?” Lambert barrels out of the shed and peeking around the corner of it, Eskel and Ciri can see him standing on a patch of frozen grass, stance and arms wide, looking around.

Eskel draws them both back into the shadows and mouths: more? Ciri nods, so Eskel prepares himself before uttering the sharp cry of a vulture.

Lambert doesn’t say anything, but when they dare look again he still stands on his spot, head cocked and every muscle in his body tense, listening for a long breath before he shakes himself and wanders back into the shed.

“Must be going mad in this shithole,” Lambert mutters and Ciri glugs, a sound Eskel quickly covers up with the hoot of an eagle owl. “FUCK OFF!” Lambert kicks something – or at least Eskel assumes he does – and more clattering and rattling fills the otherwise peaceful noon. Somewhere from inside the keep, Vesemir shouts for Lambert to stop causing such a ruckus and Lambert stomps off, muttering under his breath.

It’s cute and Eskel will make it up to him later, but for now, he allows himself to bask in the joy he feels, the joy that shines brightly in Ciri’s eyes.

---

“Eskel,” Ciri asks when they have extracted themselves from their nook. Eskel’s armoured jacket is covered with dusty bits of mortar and dried moss, and Ciri has some spiderwebs tangled in with her hair which Eskel quickly picks out. “Can you do other birds too?”

“Any bird,” Eskel confirms and crouches before her because he senses something is up and even living together these past weeks, Ciri still gets intimidated by his sheer bulk. He taps her reddened nose with a finger and she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… up here the birds sound different than back home. And I wondered… I just…” Ciri breaks off, frustrated.

“What is it, little wolf?” That always gets her, somehow. Always makes her stand up taller, puff out her chest.

“I’m having nightmares,” she admits. “And I think it would help if you came by and made noises like some of the birds we have in Cintra. Can you?”

“I can,” Eskel says. Ciri’s eyes widen minutely, then she squeals and throws herself into his embrace, face tucked against his neck.

“Thanks. And Eskel?”

“Yes, little wolf?” Eskel murmurs and runs his hand down her spine, feeling the bumps of her vertebrae.

“Don’t tell. Not even Geralt.”