#shikari

Akari stares, unseeing, past the lip of the roof and into the expanse of sky. The peace and quiet, the gentle calm a covering of snow brings - she envies it. Desires for it to remain, no matter how stiff and cold she gets. Simplicity is how she'd describe a snowfall, smiling idly to herself at her own meandering thoughts. The melancholy she feels suffused in winter makes everything that much simpler. She can focus her mind on the cold seeping from the engawa and into her feet, the soundless music of the earth around her at peace, and can pointedly not turn around to gaze at what has become her -

Home. She has a home, now. Cluttered and messy with mismatched furniture and more hidden weapons than cutlery. With the leaking kitchen faucet and dryer that only works if you kick it with the side of your foot in precisely the right spot. Filled with silence more than laughter, as is par for the course when it comes to the life of shinobi. But a home, nonetheless. A place to return, to be at peace. Hers, and -

"Fuck," Shisui mutters from somewhere at her back, entry door sliding shut with a ringing finality as she hears him stamp his feet in place. "Didn't think it was that cold, today." 

Akari smiles, small bubble of laughter catching in her throat. Her cheeks sting from the effort, but still she closes her eyes and smiles, relishing once more in a quiet morning well spent. Before she can even voice a greeting, she feels the weight and warmth of their shared blue blanket settle across her shoulders, falling down her back. She breathes deep, inhaling the remnants of their intermingled scents suffused within worn fabric, and leans instinctively back to where she knows he will always be. 

True to form, just a breath before balance is lost Shisui is there to catch her. Arms coming around her waist, he allows her weight to settle comfortably into his chest, warming her with his presence as he sits soundlessly behind her. Akari turns her face into his neck, nose pressed to the tender skin beneath his ear, her laughter loud when he flinches and curses yet does not pull away. Holds her that much tighter, a whisper of a kiss pressed into her hair.

And then there is quiet, once more. They fall softly into one another, slotting into place as easy as breathing. Akari brushes her mouth to the line of his jaw before she curls herself into him, chasing his warmth and feeling her eyes fall closed.

They remain, silent and half-frozen, until the sun crests fully over the horizon. Watching the sky lighten, listening to the fall of fresh snow. And feeling only warmth.

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(two.)

Shisui wakes, slowly at first. He takes stock of himself, aware of the sharp sting in his left arm and the sore angle of his neck. A slow and rhythmic tugging through his hair, teasing his scalp. There's a soft cushion beneath his ear, and it's with a barely-audible sigh and a wry twitch of his mouth that he immediately recognizes where he finds himself. Akari's breathing above him is a comfort, her fingers gentle as they card through his mess of curls. Blunted nails leaving a teasing trail, eliciting a pleased shudder through his heavy limbs. He likens himself to a cat, stretched out and petted and cherished by loving hands; the thought widens his smile into a grin, teeth flashing from behind bitten lips.

The ground is hard on his hip, but he doesn't have the presence of mind to care remotely when his senses are filled with Akari. He isn't sure why it aches, when all she'd ever been was a balm to his every pain, from physical to emotional. His arm twitches, rough palm spreading over her bent knee and squeezing once, then twice. Her hand goes still and her breath catches, a low murmur of his name following quickly.

(He'll never tire of the way she says it, in those myriad of ways. The quiet slur of syllables when she's half asleep, the quickened hiss of last name-first name when she's ticked at him. Said around a bubbling of musical laughter, or whispered against his mouth with her face awash in a flush. The jolt of fear that drips down his spine when it's accompanied by wide eyes and something panicked in her tone -)

He wakes, all at once. Eyes snapping open, sharingan alight. That's how she'd sounded, right before he'd been slammed in the side by an earth jutsu, the last thing his conscious mind remembers seeing was the incredulity painting her unnaturally pale face. Just the memory of it tightens his breast, anxious at the simple thought of seeing her in such a state. Guilt, at knowing he was the root cause.

Shisui tilts his head, glancing up to see Akari's mouth in a hard line, smear of blood staining the swell of her cheekbone. She finished the fight, as he trusted she would. The red-tinted world of the sharingan gets blinked away, and he cannot suppress the soft smile that curves his mouth at the sight of her, healthy and whole.

The furrow of her brow and the twist of her frown puts a damper on his uplifted mood at waking in her embrace, and he swallows around the sudden drying of his throat. "You took a hit meant for me," Akari explains without waiting for him to ask to fill in the blanks, ever on his wavelength. Anger colours her voice this time, tone as sharp and honed as the tanto on his back. Her hand curls into a fist, strands of his hair still caught between her lithe fingers. She doesn't seem to notice his flinch, nor does she pay any mind to his breathless stutter of her name. "Don't do that again," she hisses from between clenched teeth in a way that surely translates to I love you, giving his hair a firm tug for good measure.

(He loves her, too.)

Shisui has enough awareness to feel properly reprimanded, apologizing in a low murmur and pointedly refusing to acknowledge her desire to see him safe. His body had moved on its own to protect, his heart and mind already four steps ahead. He'll do what he must, as always. Any cost, any risk to himself; always in the name of prioritizing those he cherishes.

He falls back asleep nestled against her thighs, nodding off to the feel of gentle hands in his hair once more.

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(three.)

The kitchen is bare, most days. Busy and conflicting schedules allow for nothing more than rushed and simple meals, eaten alone at the small table shoved into the corner with three chairs that don't match. They compromise, even in a shared home empty of half its occupants more than half the time, by leaving each other notes. Both as a courtesy and an expression of affection and yearning. 

I'll be gone for a few days. 

Dont expect me back for a week, at least. 

Leftovers in the fridge, dont forget them! 

I'll miss you. 

Come home safe.

But tonight it's practically bustling. Half a dozen used dishes discarded haphazardly in the sink, window thrown open to let a breeze in. The counter is a mess and the stove-top filled with spilled sauce and errant chunks of chopped vegetables. It's - loud, with the radio playing and Shisui singing along off-key, Akari carving out a slice of clean counter to perch atop it and laugh, at ease and free. She takes a long sip from a glass of something strong, head tilted back against the door of a cupboard with scratched paint, and gazes over at him with an indulgent smile at his antics, the over-dramatic flair with which he tosses rice into a bowl.

He bats at her ankle when he passes to the sink, she leans down to claim a kiss as her price. They each take a bowl and a glass, and walk past the table. It's reserved for mornings of solitude, for worrying whether she is safe or if he will remember to not be reckless. Such melancholy is best left for empty rooms and aching hearts, and tonight is for nothing short of together.

Shisui claims his spot at the edge of the low couch with a satisfied groan, Akari grumbling when he nearly spills his drink over his lap when he throws himself against it. Does end up spilling some, when she swats his arm and tells him to be careful; he shoots her a flat look and she blames him regardless, the pair of them falling into laughter with heads pressed close. Akari folds her legs beneath her at his side, close enough to touch despite the extra space. She swims in a too-large sweater with sleeves nearly hanging past her hands, and she rolls her eyes and levels a halfhearted punch to his shoulder when she catches him staring at her bare legs. The television plays a foreign romance drama they'd been watching off-and-on, and delve into conversations of missions and the latest gossip, bickering over chores and who Xiulan should kiss of the two male leads. 

The food is good, and Akari elects to be lazy and leave her bowl beside Shisui's on the coffee table instead of bringing it to the kitchen. He lifts an arm and she slots herself easily into his side, curling into his embrace and feeling her heart clench when he traces shapes on her arm with the tips of his fingers. He falls asleep within the hour, leaving Akari with the opportunity to glance at his peace-filled expression. She's fallen, harder than she expected to, and finds herself with a giddy feeling building beneath her ribs when she thinks that he has, too.

The simple domesticity, the warmth of home. It's at some point during this night that Akari realizes she rather wishes every night for the rest of her life could be just like this one.

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(four.)

Mornings come harder and harder. The waking itself is easy, it's the uncertainty of the day which inevitably follows that serves to tighten Shisui's chest with something unspoken. It lingers in the back of his mind, day in and day out; this anxiety over the future, nearer than he would like. Whispers in the dark, a pressure in his head and on his shoulders. He cant escape it, nor would he if he could. Or so he thinks; preserving family, protecting whom he loves - it's worth any price.

The other shoe will inevitably drop, and it will be soon. The Uchiha are restless, the rest of the village feeling the disquiet and becoming apprehensive in turn. Thus the cycle continues, until the pressure snaps and a line will be crossed that can never be rescinded. 

He holds Akari closer, on such mornings. Still fast asleep and breathing even, head resting over his heart and fingers knotted in his shirt. Pulling him closer, even when unaware of it. It breaks his heart, seeing the love and affection she carries in her heart with very few in her life to offer it to. He's humbled, and blessed, and so very in love. 

Would that he could pause time, push the sun back beneath the horizon, cling to these quiet mornings alone with her and damn the rest. But duty calls - as it always does. Shisui wakes her with a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her mouth. Akari grumbles and rolls over and sends her foot back to land a kick against his shin for good measure, making him smile before he finds the strength to leave their bed. 

He brews their coffee in silence, mind wandering and eyes drawn to the window. It might rain later, he thinks, when Akari meanders from the hallway to pack them both a bento before their respective missions take them away from heart and home. They don't speak, they don't need to; it's less awkward and more ominous, in the way her hands shake when she packs a bed of rice and how his eyes spin to red to capture the sunlight glancing off her profile. Call him sentimental, but he'd rather remember this moment.

Akari can sense the fear brewing in his heart, and in turn he can see how his silence on the matter of his clan pains her. But he wont involve her, he cant - not when they stand on the precipice of change, not when it all could go so awfully wrong in an instant. Shisui isn't sure what it is, exactly, that he fears; he just knows this feeling well enough to understand that it likely wont end well. For any of them.

The door opens when they're dressed and packed, Shisui hooking a finger beneath the strap of the sash about her waist and tugging her close before they leave. One last kiss, his smile says. Each moment more precious than the last. 

He presses his forehead to hers when they break apart, his stomach heavy and his mouth wet. "Come home safe," he whispers to her, breath fanning across her face as she nods, eagerly. 

They go their separate ways, Akari donning her mask before taking to the rooftops with one final glance towards him that lingers. Shisui watches her disappear, holding the memory of how she had trembled in his arms forefront in his mind. And flickers away in the opposite direction.

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(five.)

The fire flickering deep within Shisui's eyes is normally tempered, banked low. Constantly aware of just dangerous he can be, in the eyes and in the fire. There's an edge of - not quite caution. Precision, maybe. Carefully cultivated and keenly aware of how he can burn as well as warm. The danger inherent within the sharingan and practiced shinobi hands, kept coiled and leashed and ready to release at any moment.

His skin is feverish beneath Akari's scarred hands. Sweat-dampened chest that her palms glide over, nails catching on his nipples and making his spine arch clear off the sheet, breath releasing in a whine. She smiles at that, small and wicked, and does it once more just because she can. The fire in his eyes flickers, red dipped gaze focused entirely on where she kneels between his spread thighs, and captures her wrist in one smooth motion.

He yanks her down until their breath is shared, mouths pressed together and her bottom lip caught between his teeth. He kisses her with an air of desperation, chest heaving and oh she relishes the fact she can feel him smile, can taste his lack of breath, when she uses her still free hand to press the pad of her thumb to a swollen nipple, rolling it softly while he keens her name.

Her braid brushes against his ear when she pulls away, swaying gently with the rhythm of her body. Her hips roll slowly, gently, and even in such a moment of ardor her expression shifts to one of adoration, heart full to bursting. Her cunt pulses each time she impales him on her false cock, the toy nestled deep enough within his slick and warm hole that his eyes widen and he says her name, once more. She'll never tire of the sound, falling into the sensation that wraps around her like a blanket. 

Shisui meets her halfway, drunk on the sensation and basking beneath her. His hand finds the side of her face, thumb parting her lips and she bites, teasing at first before she slams her hips forward and digs her teeth into him sharper. Iron blooms across her tongue but he doesn't so much as flinch, the bottom of the secured toy pressing into her swollen clit as their twin moans of desperation paint the air.

Head thrown back to expose his throat, Akari's eyes follow the trail. Even if his neck is ringed with pale blue bruises and his chest is scored with red lines from her nails, still he looks at her with those red and hazy eyes as though he loves her. She closes her lips around his thumb, teasing her tongue against the bite she'd left. A sharp pinch to his nipple, his ass clenching hard around the toy amidst sharp gasps and God, she wishes she could feel it. Fell him lose himself with her, wrapped around her. 

Nerves alight, her breath comes faster. Hips slamming forward until surely more bruises will bloom across her thighs, his ass. Shisui moves his hand from her face to her shoulder, desperate to cling to a handhold and keep himself tethered. But she only grins, wild and free, and leans down until she can press her mouth to his, unrelenting as she fucks him.

Even as he trembles and babbles and keens, still he looks at her with those unspeakably tender eyes. She could almost weep from it, though no small part of her almost wants to look away. Embarrassed, maybe. Terrified, more likely. How he can look at her with unrestrained affection, look at her like - like he loves her.

The knot in her stomach tightens, and she moves her mouth to trail sloppy kisses from his face to his neck, and back again. She cant keep herself from kissing him, from falling further and further into all he offers. Akari moans, shifts her weight, and moves her hand to curve around Shisui's neglected cock. It sends a jolt through his spine, gasping into Akari's mouth as her hand tightens to a fist around his leaking shaft, jerking him in time with her erratic thrusts. 

He falls over the edge with sharingan alight, hand curved over her throat to keep her at arm's length. He captures her face as he comes, the flush in her cheeks and the stray hairs sticking to her neck from sweat. He falls, and she kisses him, and joined they remain when they share lazy kisses that taste of home.

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(+bonus.)

He fell. Without her, without anyone. Alone, achingly, terrifyingly - alone. Had he not already been falling, all these years? They'd been together in everything, how could he fall without her? 

The river is a riot of noise, pressing harsh onto Akari's ears, pulse echoing with the sound in a thunderous drum. She cannot - speak, cannot think, nor comprehend. Pain seizes tight in her chest and before she knows it she, too, has fallen. The ground is hard and unyielding beneath her bare knees, fingers tearing through the dirt and grass until the beds of her nails shred. The ache in her body is dull, negligible; back bowed and supplicant towards the endless sky, before the rushing river - nothing else matters, save the empty space beneath her ribs where he'd once been cradled. 

No, no - he still is, even if he's - even if he had -