Master List of the Written Works

List of all the written works done by us:

Such fancy names :3

It will be updated whenever a new AU or other canon story is updated as well :)

MEOH Series:

- Main Plotline (Paula): I1 The One With All The Celebrations (link)
- I Love You (drabbles/Paula): Naruto misses Gaara (link), Gaara misses Naruto (link), Kazekage's Mental Journal Update (link), I made you a cookie but I eated it (link), My Home (link), Biology (link), Lobster (link), Forbidden (link), To Love And To Be Loved (link)
- Outtakes (Paula): Swimming Lessons (link), Awakenings (link)
- Life In Technicolor (drabbles/Catarina): Morning Birds (link)

MEOH Studies:

- Innocent Parties? Yeah Right... (oneshot/Paula/ANBU Parties): (link)
- Moonlit Killing (oneshot/Paula/Gaara and Shukaku): (link)
- Happy Birthday For The Kazekage (oneshot/Paula/Sand Siblings): (link)

AU/Other Cannon Series:

- Paper Notes (multi-chaptered/Catarina): (link)
- Trains (multi-chaptered/Paula): (link)
- Valentine's Is For... Pranking? (oneshot/Paula): (link)
- How To Like My Bed Better (drabble/Paula): (link)
- While The Earth Sleeps (multi-chaptered/Paula): (link)

Morning Birds

Naruto's thoughts on his relationship with Gaara.

~Catarina

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«If I could sleep forever…»

-

The sun had set a long time ago.

As the time of that night slowly ran out, little telltale signs of the threatening rays of sun on the horizon were becoming progressively more present, not much alike the ghost they had been not long ago. The pink light invading the sky, small groups of tiny, blue birds flying around the still in-slumber houses and homes, letting out their morning songs, all of them told whoever was awake at that time and had the mind to decipher the message, “The morning will arrive soon.”

It was in times like those that he truly wanted to slow down, inject his heart with a touch of mellow peace, set his breathing to the slow movements of the shadows in the bedroom, half lit in that morning dream because someone had been too careless to properly shut the window panes.

Those times he wasn’t the he people were used to see and know, except for himself and that one figure still asleep by his side. But perhaps, that was the true face, one too deep to be seen by anyone.

He liked the peace that came with those moments.

He didn’t even know how to name it. He didn’t quite know how to define it. It was something similar to a dream-like atmosphere that could only be set in those moments lost in the whispers of the previous night and the warmth he so loved, that feeling of belonging in someone else’s heart and in return keeping a neat patch for that loved one – who wasn’t like a loved one, but more an extension of his own being, one that was perfect where he was imperfect.

And only that made him happy.

Well, maybe many things were enough to make him happy and think, “This world is worth the ride”, but that one thing made him especially happy. People told him he was just being silly, with a smile of one who knows something that might end up unlike the dreams he kept, yet smiling because at that moment he was happy. He knew they were hiding something and he had an idea of what that might be. However, he knew they didn’t have bad intentions, just the fear of spoiling such beautiful fact of life.

Ah, how he knew that so well. He feared it, not only because he had lived it once – and cried for it tears he wished would never exist – but not even the ghost, the horizon in each one of them would eventually be alone, was enough to make him go back in that decision.

Maybe because he knew better than them all.

He wasn’t intelligent and he wasn’t smart, but his life and the experiences that came with it gave him wisdom. He knew that for someone who lead a life like his, those small moments of peace were worth all the effort, all the fighting, all the sweat and the pain and the wounds, eventually love would find a way to kiss those simple problems away.

And that dream that was real was worth any nightmare and any scar on the wall, four lines and another one across them, for the days without the Yang to his Yin. Days spent living without that one person, days that he was sure to remember so he could later share them.

And it was in those moments where he found the plenitude that was the remedy to his overdose of life, when he watched him sleep, when he could listen to the soft sound of his chest slowly rising and with a calm mirroring that pace, lowering again. It was the rhythm of the life by his side, so it was the rhythm of his life as well.

He had to be a saint to refrain himself from reaching out a hand, a nimble hand at those times and caressing the porcelain make-believe skin that was already merging with his, curling the vermillion curled locks of his hair, that looked so lovely in that pink light – making Naruto wonder who was the idiot who said red didn’t look good in pink – and then brushing them off of the sleeping face, lightly circling his dark rings around his eyes and placing a soft kiss, so soft that there would be no remaining sensation in his skin, so soft it could only be an illusion, in the red scarred traces that said love.

He liked his presence close to him. He worshipped his existence and loved his soul and body. He felt as if it was only natural, slowly – not to wake him up – getting even closer to him, feeling more of his skin, and then standing still in an attempt to merge those two bodies as one.

Saffron to vermillion, honey to ivory, cerulean to jade, body to body, skin to skin, soul to soul, Naruto to Gaara, love to love. And that made him fulfilled.

And then he would smile and stare at him, because tomorrow would be a new day and a new succession of days without him. And he would think – lightly, because he knew that wasn’t his strength – about his luck.

And to think that once that chest was to stop his rising and lowering and cut his life and his world, but not the meaning of that five lettered word. To think about the tears he had shed for him, tears that weren’t water, tears that were silent prayers to nothing in special, but maybe to Time and Life. Those were tears that had a mantra, “Save him, I love him.”

When he really considered that entire situation, later, when he was – a little – more matured, he realized how deep his feelings went. He wondered, how he would react if he knew what he did for him. He wondered, what his reaction would be if he knew the callings of his name, the embraces of his cold, lifeless form, the rest of his existence, the tears blown with the wind and the sting in his heart threatening to destroy it at any moment at the lightest of provocations, because it was so weak.

Thinking about it, he had to lose him to know how deep he was seeded in his heart. When he died, that was love, it was the time his subconscious – the wisest part of him – let everyone but the ones who should actually know that it was love, the love that only came to the surface at watching him die.

And a second chance was granted. He fought for it and it was graciously handed to him, and he took it with care and decided to make it worth.

How lucky he was to feel that chest rising and lowering.

And he would shake those thoughts out of his head, to keep them from corrupting that otherwise perfect scene. And he would open his eyes again and smile and place a kiss on his skin once again.

Even if he was as soft as he knew he was, it was by then that the one so close to him would let him know for sure that he had been awake for all that time being, in silence, feeling every of the blonde’s innocent and caring ministrations, loving all the love was being given to him. He would open his eyes and pierce his with a still sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” he would say if those words weren’t useless and if they weren’t the premonition of something sad.

If the morning came that meant he would have to leave him and go away, go away a long distance until he arrived at his other home, one in the desert. That was part of the way things were, neither of them could be able to enjoy the caring love from their second home for a long time. The distance was unforgiving, three cursed days apart.

The still half sleeping warm body by his side would shift a bit, without much noise, and stretch his bony limbs, enjoying that moment just like the blonde had been until then, ignoring the now lit sky and the cheerful chirping of the birds, clearly getting loud.

However, there was always time for just one more sweet caress, one more hair ruffling with sleepy hands, one more whisper and one more kiss as outside the sun used its radiant rays to lift itself to the sky, the omen for a bright, sunny day. Something in the air told them it wouldn’t be that bright for the two of them…

There was always something to be done about it. He knew he could grab his clothing and throw them to the balcony, sure that the neighbor’s cat would shred the prized clothing of the desert man. The both of them knew that there was always something that could be done, but they knew better as well, they knew that eventually the world would come knocking on the door and the desert winds would start blowing in the direction of that forested city, calling like a chant for their leader. So under a silent agreement they always knew their remaining time was to be spent in that heart-warming embrace.

Then would come the moment of a quick shower and helping each other with the loving task of keeping a warm temperature and getting dry in the midst of laughter and ruffled hair. Helping with the setting of a leg ring here, each buckle the right way, a long strap across a shoulder and a large gourd attached to it on the back, a scarf around the shoulders, all covering places and red marks that were for no one but them.

And then, still too early to see people around in the streets, a long walk in silence that was the freeway of a communication hand in hand until reaching a large door. A large door that could change a lot in their consideration, depending on the side where they were, right side outside, wrong side inside. There wouldn’t be a grand gesture of goodbye, just a long consumption of the sight of each other and then the sound of footsteps taken by someone fragile without him.

He would feel desperately broken inside, so broken he would begin fearing that if he reached out a hand to stop him, he would break in one thousand and one shards, so broken and lost and fragile that no sound would come from his half opened mouth.

Maybe he would still be able to see him and talk to him that time in his dreams.

It was always like that, so once again, he knew that it would be like that, and he was sure to breathe in all of the other while he could, memorizing every tiny smile that might have been an illusion and the touch and the barely there smell of cinnamon and spice.

One day, one day that ritual wouldn’t be needed at all.

One day, he wouldn’t have to endure that repetitive process of being heart-broken and then healed again, always the same. Always for the sake of that undying love, the birth and death and then rebirth once again of that affection that seemed to give them both strength and weakness. For he knew eventually the circle would close again and one of the two chests would stop moving and the other would apply strength on it for the both. He knew that that joining and parting of their lines was always a part of it, a small sacrifice for their happiness.

He would always choose having him for one night over never being able to feel his warmth like that.

Someday, he would be able to transform one night of those into forever. That was his dream that would become a reality.

He knew it, he simply knew it.

-

«…Would you still be in my dreams?»

To Love And To Be Loved

A sneek peak into Gaara's head at a moment of peace :)

~Paula

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Sometimes when we are at your house at night, after one other night spent sleeplessly and inside a bubble of sweet lust, after a morning of lazyness and an afternoon filled with walks and glutton meals, I like sitting on your couch in an overwhelming harmony and have you this close, while the movie you chose to rent this time runs its plot by the old television.

If already naturally horror movies have no effect on me, then inside the shelter of amber, sun, blue and whiskers that surrounds me even less. You're the one to worry me, the spirits that torment the young lady trapped inside the television seem to be hurting you too, proof of that is the tremor I feel all around me, coming from you and your irrational fear. In lack of better remedy, I smile discrete and somewhat perversely. If I will take anything good from this, it'll be the fact that this night will be spent sleeplessly as well: after all I will have a small fox to calm down and please. I want to protect you from all that upsets you, even if what upsets you are fictional ghouls.

However, before these previsions become reality, right after the end of the movie, there is something you do to me that no longer surprises me but that will always melt my heart to caramel. Slow but progressively, the weight of your body is no longer all around me to be set right on top of me, and in the same needy way your arms pull me to you, your head finds rest over the stoic beating of my heart and your lips murmur these simple words: "Ghosts are coming to take me. Cuddle with me, protect me..."

And suddenly all of me reacts with an emotion I cannot define, all of me lives to satisfy that simple wish.

But, really, the explanation of this phenomenon is actually quite simple...

One thing is for me to want to protect you and care for you, one completely different thing is for you to want me to protect you and care for you. I've always known that I wanted to be loved, I've always thought the biggest prize from what we have would be that same love I'd get from you. But I was wrong...

It is a great prize, do not get me wrong, but there is another just as great as that one...

It's to know that you long for every touch of my fingers over the wheat fields of your hair, that you tremble with every kiss I lay upon the smirk of your lips, that you fantasize over each felt word with which I invade your senses.

It's to know that you will miss me even before the moment I cross that door to leave, to know that you trust me to return and resume the honorable task of always keeping you happy and satisfied, to know that I can always touch you, talk to you, love you, because you will always be hoping for more from me...

More than knowing that I am loved, it is to know that my love is what you want the most, it is to know that all that I am is worth so much to the person who saved my life in so many ways... (including the literal one)

Am I sadistic for thinking like this, for being so happy over the power I have on you? All my life I dreamt of something like this, so I apologize if I am, because I do not regret it, nor is your trust misplaced...

I protect you from the ghosts of this cruel world, because that mission was only on me placed and because I would not want anyone else to have it but me...

You know how I feel, as I squeeze you in my arms, I can tell, by the peace in your face, the bliss in your lips.

And I know how you feel, now it is so clear to me...

We will be like this forever, I am sure of that...

The unhappiness in our lives is over, the crisis after crisis.

I love and am loved, fuck all rest.

Forbidden

In all humans there is a moment of doubt, difficult decisions to be made...

... but can be overcome.

Who Wants To Live Forever - Breaking Banjamin (but cut out the last sentence)

~Paula

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Having returned home, tears cover his face, but the moist trail is endless, for new salted drops quickly succeed it.

His back rests with incredible tiredness against the door behind him, closing it, and all his body finally gives in to the emptiness, to complete and ultimate surrendal.

Sometimes it's so difficult to fight...

So difficult to go on holding hands with him when the eyes of the world stare at them with desdain, so difficult to belive happiness will survive so many stabs when one more is dealt to it, so difficult to keep the heart intact when it stumbles through the entire path...

Sitting on the floor, his eyes abundantly bleed their ocean. He cannot take that struggle anymore, but the goodbye between them wrecked him.

If he at least couldn't feel each forbidden kiss dance across his skin, each sweet whisper taunting his ears, each happy promise blinding his sight, maybe he could tear all that vain hope from his heart and carry on... Maybe he could start over...

But no... Love (and for a brief moment, it almost looks like the ghost of a smile slides among his tears, the memory of that word) has fused with him like the air he breathees, and all love, even the forbidden like his, it's just like that: the sickness and its ineffective medicine, the sadness and its preserverance, the pain and the hope that it'll end.

But this pain won't end. And love only makes it more intense.

Why do we fall in love with such conviction with who we can't? And why has that person to fall in love with us too? There are so many people feeling such innocent love and they never see it coming to life, why not give this love to them? Why does this false forbidden love feel so real and right?

Listen to your heart, wise people say. But the heart speaks the opposite of all rest. But the heart is made of matter superior to them...

Surrendering is so tempting, but it hurts so much...

Maybe... fight a bit more...

There's no real surrendal in any love.

And even if victory is just one single moment of love, it's already worth a whole life of surrendal...

He stands up and walks out, the crying is over. It's not too late to go on fighting.

Let me see you stripped down to the bone...

Intermission from Kage duties for the win :3

Stripped - Depeche Mode/Shiny Toy Guns

~Paula

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Lobster

It started as a small narration I did to my sister. Then, it became another drabble :D

~Paula

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I needed a romantic context to approach you, at least one that was more original than the ones I have been using and, innocently, I came to the person who was the least adequate to advise me in that. I know that Sasuke has been more agreeable and amiable since he returned, but even so I should have known better...

Very diligently, he told me that lovers tend to be more worried and loving when their partner is with some sort of health problem. For example, if I were to get a huge sunburn, it would be very likely that you would want to spread cream all over my body and, unfortunately, the idea was too tempting since the very beginning, and I saw myself making an extraordinarely excentric plan work...

My skin is not very white, to burn it under the influence of the sun was a difficult task, more difficult than it would be to you (besides, many times already have I wondered how your skin isn't always sunburnt, victim of the desert light). But I executed this mission with such perfection that all the surface of my body became a painful and red film, that cracked and hurt everytime I moved, and it was with a lot of effort that I was able to reach you.

But one single fact was enough to render all my plan useless. Looking at you through a grimace of discomfort, I saw that your pose, expression and movements were somewhat altered too, and that your skin shone with the crimson force of a fire. You too had gotten a sunburn, a huge sunburn that affected you whole.

Of course Sasuke's words were correct. As soon as we realized the state we were in, we ran to each other and our voices showed our worries and care, but there was nothing we could do: just moving hurt, it would hurt even more the simple (even if) loving touch we'd share.

Now we suffer the effects of the cream, yes. But we weren't the ones to apply it on each other, no. There's a wicked glint on Sasuke's eyes and grin as he rubs our skins almost with pleasure, after all this was his secret plan.

I look at you. Your blushed and ivory skin enchants me alone. What a cruel torture! To have you all covered in cream and delicious, so close to me yet so far from my touch!

Your violence is beautiful and your center sweet...

They can stay together, until the time comes for one of them to leave.

This time, Gaara wants to say goodbye before leaving for the Sand...

Sunsets and Car Crashes by The Spill Canvas.

~Paula

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