Novermber: 11
Fandom:Naruto
Characters: Itachi and Shisui
Summary: Coffee and kisses and a little something more. (Prompted for "Girl With One Eye")
Warnings/Ratings: R for violence, a little swearing, and some disturbing things.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. Innocent enough, yes? And Shisui was so innocent. That quirky grin, his odd sayings and mannerisms. Childish.
"Don't step on the cracks."
That smile. Eyes crinkled at the corners, warm and kind. Bright like his funny scarf and hat. And you like bright things. Yes, you do. An odd weakness for someone like you.
"You'll break you mother's back!"
His hand curls into your back, ushering you forward. Even through your shirt, his hand is warm. Your cheeks heat. People turn to look as you glance up at him. Are they jealous? Are they wondering why his touch lingers? Siblings? Friends? Lovers? Shisui smiles, and you wish you knew the answer to that question.
He was the one who approached you as you checked your hair in the mirror. He grinned behind you, never creepy, simply there and ask if you wanted some coffee. He said you looked like a little doll. You wore the little blue sundress your mother had gotten you, the drape and flare at the hips gave you the illusion of a better figure--or any at all, really.
He bought you coffee. He bought you a cookie. He promised you another coffee next week. He made you excited.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. A warning. A touch on the sidewalk.
"Don't fuss. Relax." Another kiss, just as soft. His knees on either side of your hips. His breath warm on your face. He smells like coffee, and he curls his warm fingers against your skull, sliding up your thigh. Today you're wearing a red dress, black tomoe patterns on it. You put it on and felt pretty.You wondered if he would like it.
The skirt bunches up around his hand. He kisses your jaw. Your neck. Hot shiver, prickles of excitement and fear as your body tenses. His fingers rub your skin, trace your eye. His lips do something that makes your back arch.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. That's all he had over you. That's all you'd given him.
How did you end up like this?
"Don't worry, it's not going to hurt." The sleeveless dress has slid down. You feel exposed. he's rucked your skirt up around your waist, teased his hands along your flesh as he pets you. You try to push him away, but he's larger and stronger. You can't move him. All his nonsensical chatter doesn't seem so charming anymore.
Such pretty eyes.
He strokes your face.
Such beautiful eyes.
He presses his fingers into your flesh, and his lips muffle your scream. His flesh dips into yours. Pain rises up sharp and real and breaking everything in your head apart. As hard as you fight, as hard as you struggle, nothing changes. His nails scrape against bone. A scream is swallowed in his mouth. You want to scream loud enough for the world to here, but he won’t let you. Something tears. Lights flash in your head, colors brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You feel the flow of blood.
Hot blood all over. Sliding thick and burning down your skin. You're crying, but it doesn't matter, does it. He's telling you so stop being silly. It doesn't hurt. Stop screaming. Stop crying. It doesn't hurt. Really, it doesn’t hurt. Hush. Shhh.
Shut the fuck up bitch.
Your eye doesn't close all the way anymore. The damage to the eyelid was extensive, the doctor’s said. The acrylic eye looks almost normal, but it doesn't move. Of course you can't see out of it. There's nothing there to see with. You take an extra ten minutes putting on eye make-up. Taking it off. Putting it on.
It never looks quite right.
And you used to have such pretty eyes.
Characters: Itachi and Shisui
Summary: Coffee and kisses and a little something more. (Prompted for "Girl With One Eye")
Warnings/Ratings: R for violence, a little swearing, and some disturbing things.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. Innocent enough, yes? And Shisui was so innocent. That quirky grin, his odd sayings and mannerisms. Childish.
"Don't step on the cracks."
That smile. Eyes crinkled at the corners, warm and kind. Bright like his funny scarf and hat. And you like bright things. Yes, you do. An odd weakness for someone like you.
"You'll break you mother's back!"
His hand curls into your back, ushering you forward. Even through your shirt, his hand is warm. Your cheeks heat. People turn to look as you glance up at him. Are they jealous? Are they wondering why his touch lingers? Siblings? Friends? Lovers? Shisui smiles, and you wish you knew the answer to that question.
He was the one who approached you as you checked your hair in the mirror. He grinned behind you, never creepy, simply there and ask if you wanted some coffee. He said you looked like a little doll. You wore the little blue sundress your mother had gotten you, the drape and flare at the hips gave you the illusion of a better figure--or any at all, really.
He bought you coffee. He bought you a cookie. He promised you another coffee next week. He made you excited.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. A warning. A touch on the sidewalk.
"Don't fuss. Relax." Another kiss, just as soft. His knees on either side of your hips. His breath warm on your face. He smells like coffee, and he curls his warm fingers against your skull, sliding up your thigh. Today you're wearing a red dress, black tomoe patterns on it. You put it on and felt pretty.You wondered if he would like it.
The skirt bunches up around his hand. He kisses your jaw. Your neck. Hot shiver, prickles of excitement and fear as your body tenses. His fingers rub your skin, trace your eye. His lips do something that makes your back arch.
Two cups of coffee and a kiss. That's all he had over you. That's all you'd given him.
How did you end up like this?
"Don't worry, it's not going to hurt." The sleeveless dress has slid down. You feel exposed. he's rucked your skirt up around your waist, teased his hands along your flesh as he pets you. You try to push him away, but he's larger and stronger. You can't move him. All his nonsensical chatter doesn't seem so charming anymore.
Such pretty eyes.
He strokes your face.
Such beautiful eyes.
He presses his fingers into your flesh, and his lips muffle your scream. His flesh dips into yours. Pain rises up sharp and real and breaking everything in your head apart. As hard as you fight, as hard as you struggle, nothing changes. His nails scrape against bone. A scream is swallowed in his mouth. You want to scream loud enough for the world to here, but he won’t let you. Something tears. Lights flash in your head, colors brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You feel the flow of blood.
Hot blood all over. Sliding thick and burning down your skin. You're crying, but it doesn't matter, does it. He's telling you so stop being silly. It doesn't hurt. Stop screaming. Stop crying. It doesn't hurt. Really, it doesn’t hurt. Hush. Shhh.
Shut the fuck up bitch.
Your eye doesn't close all the way anymore. The damage to the eyelid was extensive, the doctor’s said. The acrylic eye looks almost normal, but it doesn't move. Of course you can't see out of it. There's nothing there to see with. You take an extra ten minutes putting on eye make-up. Taking it off. Putting it on.
It never looks quite right.
And you used to have such pretty eyes.