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blaisenova · 1 year

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the consequences of enjoying someone's company

Xina Kwan had always been able to make Miguel smile even when no one else could. Maybe a little bit TOO well...

or:

Miguel O'Hara visits with his ex-girlfriend turned friend, Xina Kwan, until, like always, things don't go quite as planned, and Miguel has to explain some rather strange truths about himself, such as why Xina could see fangs when he smiled.

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the world needs more xina and miguel content, and i am all too happy to supply it.

xinamiguel lovers, this one is for you!! they're not explicitly stated to be together, so it can be read as either platonic or romantic, but it is entirely possible to read some of what happens as romantic tension. THIS IS CANON COMPLIANT, OKAY?? WE CAN'T KEEP PRETENDING THAT THEY DIDN'T STILL KINDA LOVE EACH OTHER EVEN AFTER THEY BROKE UP IN THE COMICS. dana lovers, beware of dana slander. i'd say i'm sorry but it would be a lie. we stan xina here.

also, an extra bonus for those of you who just want to see miguel be a guy for once. oh yeah, that's right, in this ao3 fanfiction i offer you a miguel o'hara that ISN'T just angry all the time. you wanna see this man have a good time? you wanna see him interact with someone without being an asshole the entire time??? you wanna see how this man acts when he's not under the pressure of holding together the entire multiverse??????? WELL HERE HE IS. comic accurate miguel. come get y'all juice.

gentle reminder that i also take requests if any of you have an idea itching at the back of your brain but don't wanna write it XD

content is below the cut because it is LONG. ao3 link is in the reblogs as always. please enjoy!! <3

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It would be impossible to overstate just how much Xina Kwan meant to Miguel O’Hara.

The two had known each other from the time they were young children, back when it had felt like it was them two against the world – and, really, the sentiment wasn’t too far off considering how desperately Kron Stone had wanted to make their lives living hell, up until he decided they didn’t deserve their lives at all – and to say that they were close would be an understatement. So close, in fact, that once they’d matured from intelligent youth to genius adults (and Miguel, from an arrogant child to an even more arrogant adult), the two had gotten together.

Then, of course, Miguel had ruined it by being his selfish, self-absorbed self; though, in the moment, he hadn’t thought it was a mistake to leave Xina for Dana. There’d been a part of him that regretted hurting Xina the way he had, but Dana was a gorgeous, loving woman who never thought him any less than perfect, and Xina… Xina hadn’t let him be content in being the bastard that he was. At the time, he hadn’t liked that about her.

Now, after it was already too late and Miguel had ruined things with Dana, too, he could see how stupid he was for choosing what was easy over what was best. Just another failure to chalk up to the heroic Spider-Man.

It was true that Dana loved him, and it was even true that he loved her back, but it had taken a lot of suffering and bullshit to realise that loving someone wasn’t necessarily enough for them to be good for you. He probably should have known that already, considering the state of his own family, but that would have required any level of self-reflection, and that was still a rather new skill for him, all things considered.

What he knew now, though, was that Xina had never apologised to Miguel’s dad on his behalf, claiming that he didn’t mean his vitriol when he did. Xina had never tried to love George O’Hara when they both knew he didn’t deserve it, and she certainly hadn’t tried to convince Miguel to love him, too. Dana believed that he’d cried at his father’s funeral because he genuinely felt sorrow, and Miguel hadn’t had the heart to tell her otherwise. Somehow, even after everything, she still didn’t seem to understand that some people didn’t deserve love or pity, and that, even if George somehow did, Miguel would never have deigned to give it to him. Though, there was also a part of him that found himself wondering how she hadn’t seemed to get that he didn’t deserve it either.

Complicated and distressing feelings aside, there were simply things that Dana let Miguel get away with that she shouldn’t – like being arrogant, and “pompous” (or so Xina had said, at least, and, frankly, Miguel was starting to believe her), and uncaring towards the world that so desperately needed to be cared for – and there were things she wouldn’t let go that she should – like his relationship with his father, and his mother, and Gabriel, as if she hadn’t hurt him, too; as if she didn’t use the fact that Gabriel used to love her to keep him from being angry with her.

If honesty was what you were looking for – something Miguel had never been very good at, especially when it came to the difficult truths about himself – he would say that, despite his initial regret over his hasty break up with Dana on the day that he found out about his biological father and the truth of his… condition, it was a bit of a relief. They had been in love, but that wasn’t enough. Miguel had adored her, but she’d made him a worse person and he’d hurt her in kind, and, while he might not have cared about that fact before, he did now.

Running from the difficult confrontations and hiding in easy love that allowed him to fester in his grief was a choice he’d made back when he’d cheated on Xina, but he could see now that it was a poor one.

And, really, if honesty was what you were looking for – which, really, was asking a lot of Miguel – he would say that he missed Xina. Maybe not necessarily in a romantic sense (though, he couldn’t quite be sure), but it didn’t really matter, when it came down to it.

There was a reason that Miguel had insisted so fervently that LYLA be fixed. Sure, maybe it was, in part, due to her comforting familiarity in a time that was, undeniably, full of the terrifying unfamiliar, but it was also because LYLA was a product of Xina; she was a constant reminder of the person that Miguel had cared for so much and, frankly, still did. He hadn’t wanted to let that go, and maybe that should have told him something even before things ended with Dana, but Miguel had never been very good at facing difficult feelings. That’s why Dana had been so addicting, and why he’d wronged Xina when he shouldn’t have.

Xina had always been a bigger person than he had, though, and, somehow, she’d found it in herself to forgive him for what he’d done. If Miguel still wasn’t so afraid of what voicing his relief and appreciation might cause, he’d thank her. Maybe one day.

For now, though, the two could be friends as they once were; or, at least, something close to it. It was a nice change of pace, to be able to talk to someone that didn’t want something from him, one way or another. Though, admittedly, that was likely, in part, due to the fact that Xina’s expectations of him were still depressingly low.

It hurt a bit, but Miguel was aware that he’d more than earned it.

For now, mercifully, the difficult conversations could wait, and Miguel could pretend to be nothing more than Miguel O’Hara: bastard of a man that was doing his damndest to become less of one; not Spider-Man and whatever being him meant.

Or, at least, that was what he’d thought. He’d never really been that fortunate.

“Miguel O’Hara,” Xina exclaimed with faux fury, a hand placed firmly on her hip and a brow quirked upward as she attempted to bite back her smile behind a snarl. Her other hand laid casually on the door handle, and Miguel could already see all sorts of twencen junk just a few feet inside her home. “And just what, pray tell, are you doing here?”

“Xina Kwan,” Miguel returned, matching her energy as he, too, placed his hands on his hips and scowled. “I should ask you the same thing.”

Losing the fight against her amusement, Xina desperately tried to obscure her laugh with a scoff. “I remember you being smarter,” she mused. “I live here, as a matter of fact.”

As if the notion was news to him, Miguel’s eyes widened, and he straightened up, making a show of looking around the doorstep and peeking past her shoulder into the house before he raised his brows. “Well, sure enough,” he hummed. “Fancy that. May I come in?”

Sighing, Xina allowed a smile to slip onto her face, and she pushed the door aside, gesturing half-heartedly. “Yes, I suppose, but don’t touch anything. I don’t know what you’re contaminated with.”

“Charming, as always, Xina,” Miguel hummed as he entered. He fixed her with his own smile, and, like usual, took care to ensure that his fangs remained concealed. “I was going to say you were a better doorman than that robot of yours, but now I’m not so sure.”

“What’s wrong with Jack?” The words were accompanied by the sharp slam of a door, and Miguel couldn’t help but to smirk as he turned to see the annoyance on her face.

“He still calls me ‘Miguel the creep,’” he hummed, idly picking up some sort of blocky looking plastic brick with buttons on the side and some sort of antennae coming out of the top.

Immediately, Xina smacked his hand, and Miguel hissed at the feeling but placed the object back on the table nonetheless. “Does he?” she asked, eyes wide as if she genuinely didn’t know. Which was shocking bullshit. “That’s so strange. I wonder who taught him that.”

“I have a few ideas,” Miguel murmured, rubbing his hand with a pointed look.

“Well, now, let’s not get accusatory.” Xina straightened the item he’d moved, brushing it off gently. She paused, examined the object once more, then moved it slightly to the left before nodding affirmatively.

All the while, Miguel could only watch in muted fascination. “What is that thing?”

“Some twencen tech!” she immediately chirped, eager as always to talk about her number one favourite hobby. “It’s called a ‘walkie-talkie.’”

Miguel’s head cocked to the side, a brow raising. “A whatie-what?”

“A ‘walkie-talkie,’” Xina repeated slowly, grabbing his ear and pulling it to her lips as she spoke, much to Miguel’s chagrin. He batted her away, though couldn’t quite squash down a smile. “It’s basically what they used before holo-messages. I just wish I had another one so I could use it for something besides collecting dust. They only work with a pair,” she huffed.

Again, Miguel picked up the object, taking care in his movement, and, this time, Xina let him. He turned the walkie-talkie curiously in his hands, impressed by its weight when it supposedly had such a simple function. He’d never really understood her obsession with the twentieth century. From what he’d read, things really weren’t all that much better than they were now. He’d been working on a goober – though LYLA liked to call it a gizmo, mostly to spite him, he’s sure – to potentially see for himself in another universe, if he didn’t, y’know… die in the process.

That was later Miguel’s issue, though, and a worthy risk if he might be able to bring Xina a matching machine to complete her set. He didn’t get her obsession, but he didn’t have to. It was important to her, and that’s what was important to him.

Almost inaudible in his concentrated confusion, he mumbled, “Qué extraño…”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘super cool.’”

With another huff, Xina took the artefact from his hands once more, placing it back down onto the table. “Yeah, alright, you liar.”

Despite the practised angry tone, Miguel could see the way her lips quirked up in a smile, and he couldn’t help but snicker a bit. She’d always known him too well to believe nice lies. It was part of the reason why Miguel used to be so afraid of her, though the admission was something he still hadn’t quite come to terms with. Afraid was a strong word, but it was also an accurate one. Miguel was afraid to be seen for what he was, because he was even more afraid that he was something not worth seeing. Xina had never seemed to agree with that sentiment, though.

“Okay, maybe I don’t get it,” he admitted, hands on his hips once more.

“Of course you don’t,” Xina returned, cruel teasing words accompanied by a sweet smile. “I was always much smarter than you.”

“Har, har,” he said sarcastically. “Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Then, before Miguel could respond, “how are you and… Diana, was it?”

“Dana.”

“Yeah, that one,” she said, snappily enough that it was clear that she’d actually known the answer all along, which Miguel was well aware of, considering how LYLA had returned to him with intricately coded insults specifically in Dana’s name. “You haven’t talked about her in a while. Did you two finally break up?”

Without missing a beat, Miguel fixed her with a sarcastic smile. “Yes, actually! Thanks so much for asking.”

Despite the nature of the question, his answer seemed to genuinely catch Xina off guard, her eyes going wide and mouth falling open. Her eyes searched his face as her brows furrowed, a mixture of guilt and some kind of indecipherable relief shining in her gaze as the gears turned in her mind and grasped for a response. It was almost amusing to see Xina so stumped when, normally, she was so quick on the draw. There were very few times that Miguel had seen her well and truly left without words, though, unfortunately, the twinge of bitterness and healthy dose of grief made it difficult to enjoy to its fullest.

“Congratulations,” she blurted, then immediately cringed at herself, a hand coming up to her forehead with an audible smack, and, admittedly, Miguel’s eyes widened a considerable degree, too. “Wait, fuck-” she backtracked. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry, Mig-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Miguel hastily interrupted, pushing down hurt and hiding it behind a quirked brow. “What did you just say?”

Shrinking in on herself, Xina cringed again. “Congratulations?”

“No, no, not that,” he said, and a hand waved her off almost dismissively. “The other thing.”

“I’m… sorry?” she tried again, brows furrowed in confusion. Her arms, which she’d wrapped tightly around her shoulders, loosened their grip, though the tension didn’t leave her.

Miguel shook his head with another wave of his hand. “Not that either. The f-word.”

Eyes narrowing, Xina tilted her head forward. “Fuck?”

A short, breathless laugh fell from his mouth. “Oh, my god,” he nearly whispered, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “What are you, a millennial?”

“Wha-” Again, Xina’s eyes went wide, and her hands fell from her shoulders completely. “Miguel, are you kidding? That’s what you’re upset about? Me saying fuck?”

Face deadly serious, Miguel nodded once more as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody says ‘fuck’ anymore. I know you’re into the whole twencen thing, but cursing is a sacred thing. You need to act like a civilised human being and say ‘shock.’”

As if she was entirely unsure how to react, Xina’s mouth still hung open uselessly, her eyes searching Miguel’s almost urgently. When all she was met with was his carefully practised mask of apathy, she managed a surprised scoff and picked her jaw up from off of the floor. Miguel, to his credit, managed to hold himself together, too, and raised a brow.

“You’re unbelievable,” she sputtered.

“Thank you,” came the response.

Then, “No, you are genuinely…” but she didn’t finish, the words trailing off, and Xina’s eyes narrowed once more. She leaned back on her feet, managing to actually look somewhat intimidating despite how much shorter she was than Miguel. Her arms crossed, and she fixed him with an unimpressed look that made his skin crawl just a bit. “I see what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he lied through his teeth, trying desperately to keep the tension out of his shoulders.

“No, no, you are,” Xina insisted, no longer falling for his antics. “I’ve known you since we were kids, Miguel. I know all of your stupid little tricks, probably better than you know them yourself.” She approached him, and, really, despite Miguel quite literally towering over her, he still felt small under her glare. “I’m gonna apologise to you, whether you like it or not.”

“Xina,” Miguel began uneasily, giving her his best attempt at a placating smile. “Come on… Let’s not be rash. I cheated on you, and you told me ‘congratulations’ when I broke up with my fiancée. We can just call it even.”

“Alright, first of all,” Xina began, a finger waving in Miguel’s face.

“Oh, boy.”

“Those two things are not comparable,” she hissed, though Miguel’s attention was mostly on the way that her finger moved in front of him. “And second of all-”

“Right.”

“I am better than you.”

“Uh huh.”

“I apologise to people when I hurt them, even if they don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, great.”

“So, I- Are you even listening?”

At that, her hand stilled, and Miguel frowned, his eyes refocusing on her face. “What?”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m kidding! Come on, let’s just forget about it,” Miguel practically pleaded. “We can watch one of those twencen movies you like. One with that actress you really like, uh…” He trailed off, face screwed up in focus, mumbling, “ay, ¿cómo se llama?” then, with a snap of his fingers, “Marilyn Monroe!”

Xina placed her hands on her hips, brows furrowed as she eyed him. “You’re really sad about it, huh?”

A scowl found its way onto Miguel’s face once more, and he ran a hand over his face and through his hair in exasperation. “Ámi, I don’t know how I can be any clearer that I do not want to talk about it, or even think about it, for that matter.”

“Alright, alright,” Xina relented, raising her hands in surrender. There was a beat before she snickered a bit, shoving Miguel’s arm with a smile that was a bit too soft. “Look at Miguelito! He grew a heart, eh? What’d you do with the real Miguel?”

Despite the teasing, Miguel couldn’t help but to return her smile. “I guess someone got fed up with his ‘pompous’ attitude and killed him,” he answered, and the two laughed.

In a way, Miguel knew that it was irresponsible and selfish to hold all of his hurt as close to his chest as possible only to inevitably lash out when someone happened to push the wrong buttons. More than anything, he was terrified of being like his father; or, step-father, rather. George O’Hara had chosen the worst possible way to express his feelings, and it had, admittedly, left Miguel terrified to express his at all. It felt safer to just keep them to himself, up until the point that he couldn’t take it anymore and ended up taking it out on someone else, and, in the moment immediately after, Miguel realised just how much like George O’Hara he really was.

The thought was enough to make him feel sick, and it just made him work even harder to be everything his father wasn’t, for better or for worse.

George O’Hara never would have taken up the mantle of Spider-Man, and, even if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have used the position for any damn good. Knowing the bastard, he probably would have used his abilities to come up with new and improved ways to torment his family. If Miguel couldn’t say he was better than his father in any other way, at least he could say that he was better than him in that.

Still, there were more days than Miguel liked to admit that he wondered whether he was doing the right thing by trying to use his powers for good, or if he really was just using it to boost his own ego like Gabriel had accused him of.

“Hey,” came Xina’s gentle call, her hand pressed against his bicep gently, grounding him. “Have you ever heard of Pac-Man?”

Miguel was quiet for a moment, then, “not even once.”

“Oh, man,” she said, her face cracking into a smile, “prepare to have your mind blown.”

To say Miguel’s mind was not blown would be an understatement. Of course, he knew by now that the things Xina found to be completely mind blowing were entirely different from the things Miguel would be impressed by, but, even with reasonably low expectations, this was a disappointment. She’d led him through her house, skillfully weaving around the organised clutter of twencen artefacts, then stopped – with the biggest, proudest smile Miguel had ever seen from her �� in front of a rectangle with two buttons, a stick, and a screen. He raised a brow at the thing, then peeked over to Xina again.

“Well?” she prompted, gesturing to the box and confirming that Miguel wasn’t mistaken and that the real thing wasn’t hidden behind the rectangle. “What do you think?”

Again, his eyes slid over the thing, and, yeah, it really was just a couple of buttons and a stick, but, nevertheless, he smiled. “Consider my mind blown.”

“Yeah, alright,” she huffed. “Thanks for humouring me. I swear it gets better.” Xina beamed as she pulled the cabinet away from the wall with some degree of effort and pulled what looked to be some sort of tail from the object. Miguel watched in muted fascination as she stuck the thing into some sort of specially made device that connected the thing to the building’s power source… with a wire? Who would want that?

All at once, the thing’s screen flared to life with so few neon coloured pixels that they barely even made shapes but, somehow, managed to be bright enough to hurt anyway, making Miguel flinch even behind his sunglasses. Coupled with the almost ear-piercing music and sound effects that accompanied it, he could safely say that he was less impressed than he was bothered. As Xina once again turned her smile to him, gesturing to the screen with all of the enthusiasm of a child, Miguel wouldn’t have dared to say it aloud.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, and that much, at least, was true.

“I know, I know. It’s pretty awesome,” Xina bubbled, and her smile turned mischievous. “The best part? It’s two player.”

That made Miguel raise a brow in genuine interest. “It’s a game?”

“Finally have your interest, huh?” she teased. “It is a game. One of the first, actually.”

Miguel peered at the screen again, watching yellow pixels dart across, occasionally followed by red, blue, pink, or orange. His head cocked to the side, and he took a bit of a hesitant step closer. “How do you play?”

With a snicker, Xina rubbed her hands together before lacing them together and pushing them forward with an accompanying crack. “Watch and learn, rookie.”

As it turned out, Pac-Man was actually a relatively simple game; you (the yellow munching thing, though Miguel did not get an answer as to what it was other than “he’s Pac-Man!”) needed to travel through the maze and eat all of the dots (why, Xina couldn’t tell him) and avoid getting touched by the multicoloured “ghosts” that would chase you throughout the map (which, again, Xina couldn’t explain, but maybe it didn’t matter). There was also fruit that occasionally popped up for some reason – though all it really seemed to do was increase score – and bigger dots that turned the ghosts blue (“Xina, there’s already a blue ghost.” “Well, these are bluer.”) and made them edible, apparently. Though, the ghosts never stayed dead; whereas Pac-Man only got three lives. Miguel commented on the unfairness of it, but Xina didn’t seem particularly interested.

So, all that said, it should have been a pretty easy game. Xina certainly made it look easy, weaving between ghosts with ease and timing her dot collection just right to ensure that she could take out each enemy in one fell swoop. She only played a few levels, noting that the ghosts would get faster and faster, before she intentionally lost so the two of them could play together; which was the same as single player except the game forced you to take turns. Whoopie.

As easy as the game looked, though, Miguel ate his words more than he ate dots as he struggled through his first life.

“What the- What the shock?!” he hissed as he got stuck in a corner for the fifth time, struggling to time the joystick movement with the direction he wanted to go. He whirled to face his companion again, eyes blown wide with frustration. “Xina, it’s shocking broken. It’s these controls, I swear. They’re ancient. Are you sure it’s working?”

Barely containing her laughter, Xina gestured to the screen. “The game’s still going, Mig.”

“¡Chale!” Miguel all but screeched as he turned back to the game, furiously pulling at the joystick once more. “Este jodido juego es tan… ¡Qué mierda! Ay, no, no, no… Aléjense de mí, ¡cabrones! No quiero que me toquen, por favor, moriré- Ah! No! Shit, shit- ¡Coño! Shock!”

As the yellow pixels curled in on themselves in death, Miguel wailed at the screen in frustration, though he perked up as he heard the distinct sound of wheezing from behind him. Concerned for a moment, he quickly turned to check on Xina before his concerned expression fell away into annoyance once more. Xina was laughing so hard her face had turned red, cheeks wet with tears as she barely held herself up against a nearby dresser.

“Oh, yeah, laugh it the shock up, asshole,” Miguel grumbled, though the words came out sounding half-hearted at best.

“You are- so bad!” Xina managed to get out through wheezes. “I don’t think I’ve heard you curse that much ever!” With a short yelp, her hand slipped off of her crutch, and she slipped to the floor – thankfully harmlessly – and her fist pounded against the carpeting like a lifeline as she started to laugh once more.

Unimpressed, Miguel squatted down beside her. “Hey, Xina.”

Taking a few more moments to learn how to breathe again, Xina only hummed, glancing up to him with tears still streaking down her cheeks and eyes crinkled in a smile.

Miguel jerked a hand towards the screen, giving her his own grin. “The game’s still going.”

All at once, her laughter died away, and she rocketed to her feet, nearly taking Miguel out in the process. “Fuck!”

Then, it was his turn to laugh as she scrambled to get away from the oncoming enemies, though Xina was certainly much more successful in the endeavour than he was, managing to make it through a couple more levels despite her setback before she finally took her first death.

With a grandiose laugh, she turned back to Miguel and grinned. “Beat that, bitch!”

Scoffing, Miguel took the joystick into his hand and leaned in close to the screen. “Easily.”

Unfortunately, he did not, in fact, “beat that,” bitch.

In reality, Miguel only managed to make it through the first level, then near immediately lost his last two lives at the very beginning of the second one while, in the intermission between his second and third life, Xina made it all the way to level twenty-six. Needless to say, she had not only beaten him but, also, thoroughly humiliated him in the process. Not that Miguel could possibly be frustrated with the loss when Xina was smiling at him the way she was. In that moment, it really was like nothing had changed, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel lighter than he had in years.

Leaning over her shoulder as Xina prepared herself for last life, she bounced on the balls of her feet and took a deep breath.

“What’s with the face?” Miguel questioned, startling her out of her focus and making her yelp, and he snickered a bit before whispering an apology. “You’ve already beat me, ámi. By no small number, might I, regretfully, add.”

Without so much as a glance towards him, Xina scoffed, the sound accompanied by the skillful flick of the joystick every which way. “Not everything’s about you, Miguel. I’ve almost beaten my highscore.”

A beat, as he remembered just how much effort she’d put into ensuring she beat him. “...You’re sure it’s not even about me a little bit?”

“Shut up,” she hissed. “I’m trying to focus.”

“Alright, alright,” he snickered, putting his attention onto the game right alongside her.

Pac-Man is, admittedly, not as much of a disappointment as Miguel had initially chalked it up to be. In fact, he might even go so far as to say that he was wrong entirely and that the game was actually rather fun, though he wasn’t sure that it would be entirely fair to attribute his amusement to the game so much as the person he was playing it with. At the end of the day, it was just a few pixels on a screen – something that was over a century obsolete and had long since been replaced with far more complex and involved experiences – but there wasn’t anything that could ever possibly equal the time he spent with Xina or make him feel the way her laugh did.

…He’d forgotten the way that she stuck the tip of her tongue out when she was focusing.

As three of the four ghosts closed in on Xina, Miguel couldn’t help but wince. “Uh… please tell me you’ve beaten it.”

“Fuck!” was all he got in response, then, “this fucking game is so… What the hell?! Oh, no, no, no… Get away from me, bastards! I don’t want you to touch me, please, I’ll die- Ah! No! Shit, shit- Fuck! Fuck!”

Yellow pixels curled in on themselves in death as Xina wailed at the screen, and Miguel could barely hold himself up from the force of his laughter, mouth wide open as he cackled unabashedly. His chest heaved desperately for air, only for it to come out in more snorts and snickers, and Xina, clearly just as amused with the situation as he was, turned to him with a poor imitation of a scowl, her lips pulled up wide into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it the fuck up, asshole,” she chided light-heartedly.

Then, all at once, her smile dropped, and her eyes went wide. The suddenness of it all was enough to near instantly cut off Miguel’s laughter, too, though his smile didn’t quite fall away yet. It warped into something nervous, and a few more uncomfortable laughs fell from him, his brows furrowing into something concerned.

“...What?” he asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

Xina didn’t say a word, though she approached him with her own skittishness, taking his cheek in her hand and leaning in close, and Miguel’s face flushed bright red.

There was a moment, however brief, that he was sure that she was going to kiss him.

Then, her finger hooked his upper lip and pulled it upwards, her eyes widening even further as her breath hitched, and, even then, Miguel still didn’t quite get it. It wasn’t until she spoke, voice shaky and small, that he understood.

“Fangs.”

A terrified bolt of dread lanced straight into Miguel’s chest, getting lodged there and weighing him down; stealing his air. His body immediately went tense, his eyes wide, and a trembling hand reached up and ghosted Xina’s, gently pulling it away from his face.

“Xina.” His voice came out strained, equally as small as hers.

“Miguel, you- you have fangs,” she nearly whispered, as if it was some sort of horrifying secret that might get her into trouble if she said it just a bit too loud.

“Xina, I… I can explain.”

With a squeak, she pulled out of his grasp, and he let her. She held her hand close to her chest, as if he’d somehow burned it, and her mouth hung agape in abject horror. “What happened to you? Miguel, I- I know where you work. I know what you do. What did you… What did you do to yourself?”

“It’s not like that,” he breathed, though the truth wasn’t far enough off.

“Then what is it like?” Xina demanded, though the way her voice wavered made the command fall flat. “What happened to you?”

“It was an accident,” and that, at least, was the truth.

“An accident?” she echoed. The way that it was said made it clear she wasn’t quite buying it. “So, what, you meant to alter your own genetics in another way?”

“No,” Miguel shot back in horror, then, “well- well, yes, but-”

“Oh, my god.” Xina blanched. “Miguel-”

“No, no, it’s not-”

“Yes, ‘it’s not like that,’ I know.”

“No, Xina,” he cried. “Just-”

“I really thought you’d changed,” she muttered, trembling. “I really thought-

“Please,” he pleaded, taking a step forward, “just-”

“Miguel,” Xina interrupted again shakily, stepping back in kind. “How can you possibly justify this?”

Dismayed, Miguel backed away, too, hands raised. “I can explain, Xina. Please-”

“Then do it, Miguel!”

“I’m trying. Please, just-”

“Just what?”

“Just listen!” Miguel finally shouted, brows furrowed and hands gesturing in frustrated desperation.

A scream tore from Xina’s throat and she stumbled away, her hands shooting up in front of her as if to push him away, and Miguel choked away a scream of his own, his eyes going wide. Her gaze fixated on his hands, chest heaving desperately.

“Claws!” she screeched. “You’re- You’re a monster!”

“No, I-” Peering down to his raised hands where his talons had inadvertently popped out, he gasped and immediately retracted them, glancing back up to Xina with his own look of horror. He looked distraught, face screwed up in distress, and he stepped backwards once more. Claws, fangs, yelling just as his father had, and Xina looked just as terrified as he’d felt. He loathed himself at the thought. “I- I am. I am a monster.”

Xina’s expression shifted, though only minutely, as she remained poised for fight or flight, breaths still coming in short gasps.

“I’m sorry, Xina,” Miguel sobbed, and his hands moved to clasp over his chest to steady himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, I… I wouldn’t hurt you, Xina. Never. Never. Not like that.”

There was quiet again for a moment, and Xina’s eyes narrowed, sliding over him in suspicion; over his hands, to his mouth, then, to his eyes. Her eyes met his through his shades, and he carefully, hesitantly, raised a trembling hand to remove them, giving her full view of his eyes and all of the ways they had changed. Again she gasped, met with bright red as opposed to the brown Miguel knew she was accustomed to, and his breath hitched once more. He hoped that his eyes didn’t hold the same agony he felt, though he wasn’t sure he was so lucky; pain never was something that allowed itself to be quietly hidden away. Maybe that was another reason for the sunglasses.

Seconds ticked by, and they simply stared at one another, words drowned by terror and uncertainty that stole the air from both of their lungs, then Xina’s brows furrowed, and her eyes softened ever so slightly. She took a hesitant breath and stepped forward, reaching a hand out.

Breathless, Miguel eyed her hand and shuffled a bit back.

With a frown, Xina once more approached him, fear replaced by determination. “It’s alright,” she said, kindness in her voice, so sweet it almost felt placating, and it probably was. “It’s okay, Miguel. I’m listening now. I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

This time, he didn’t move away, but he still hesitated to take her hand.

“Come on, Miggy,” she urged. “I was just… startled. I know you’d never hurt me.” She wiggled her hand a bit, frowning at him. “I shouldn’t have called you a monster,” Xina mumbled, her voice breaking. “You’re not a monster. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Miguel.”

With an exceptional amount of gentleness, Miguel inched forward and took her hand into his. He fearfully met her eyes, all of his hurt on full display, then, “What… What did you say?”

Her eyes shone with sorrow, and she gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Miguel. I should’ve never said what I did.”

“No, not that,” he gently corrected. “The other thing.”

Xina’s head cocked to the side, then, all at once, her eyes went wide. “Miguel.”

“The f-word…” he whispered with almost reverent horror.

Laughing wetly, Xina stepped forward and used her free hand to beat against his chest. “You’re unbelievable!” Her fist came to rest against him gently, and she frowned. “Fangs, claws, red eyes, and you really haven’t changed a bit. I should’ve known.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Miguel blurted, and Xina made a choked sound, looking back up at him.

“Alright, maybe you’ve changed a little.”

A hand came up to ghost Xina’s cheek, and he gently wiped away her silent tears. “Is that a bad thing?”

She leaned into his touch, though her eyes remained fixed on his. “I… I don’t know. Is it?”

Miguel frowned, looking away. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’m… I’m trying to be good; better than I was before.”

“Well,” she hummed, removing her hand from his chest and placing it over the one placed on her cheek, “that’s all you can really do, I guess. For the record, I think you’re better already. The old you never would have risked his neck for someone else.” A beat. “Or apologised. Or pretended to like some twencen stuff just because I do.”

“The game was fun,” Miguel confessed.

Again, Xina hummed, a small smile on her face. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

“Well, gee, how bad of a change could you have possibly gone through, then?” she teased half-heartedly. “Seems like it gave you better taste.”

“Har, har,” he huffed sarcastically. “Very funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” Then, before Miguel could respond, “I really am sorry, you know. For calling you a monster.”

Immediately, he fixed her with a frown, averting his eyes once more as all of the hurt from before returned. “Aw, shock. And here I’d thought my sly tactic had worked this time.”

With a sad laugh, Xina patted his hand, gently pulling it away from her face and holding it down by where their other pair were still interlocked. “On me? Never.”

Miguel glanced down at their linked hands, thinking of his claws and how terrified Xina had been of them mere minutes earlier. Aaron had been terrified of them too, back when the guy had tried to kill Miguel and gotten himself killed instead, and he’d had a right to be when Miguel had shredded his skin without even realising he was doing it. How many times could one person accidentally hurt someone else before it meant that he was simply something evil and wrong; a monster.

Exhaling shakily, Miguel’s face fell, his shoulders sagging as he tried hard to keep back tears. “Well, you were right. I am.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” Xina hissed, squeezing his hands hard; enough to make him wince.

His eyes met hers again, unwavering. “Xina Kwan.”

She didn’t speak, her expression screwing up into that same withering glare she’d fixed him with earlier, but Miguel still didn’t back down.

“You said it yourself,” he retorted to her silent disagreement. “I messed with something I shouldn’t have, and now I’m here.” The next words were spat, like venom. “A monster.”

“You are not a monster,” Xina seethed once more, as unwilling to give in as he was.

It was times like these that made Miguel less grateful how stubborn she was. It was also times like these that reminded Miguel why he’d left her for Dana; though, even more strongly, why he shouldn’t have. And, really, it was times like these that actually made Miguel all the more grateful that she was, in fact, as stubborn as she was. He knew well that he’d back down before she did. He always had. As arrogant and self-absorbed as Miguel may have been, he was also a coward. Xina had never been a coward.

“Monsters are scary, Miguel,” she continued, insistent as always. “You’re hardly scary.”

Scoffing, Miguel rolled his eyes, brows furrowed. “You seemed pretty afraid of me.”

“Startled,” Xina quickly corrected. “There’s a difference. I could hardly be afraid of someone who can’t even beat me in Pac-Man.”

He laughed shortly, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. “That’s your standard?”

“For you it is,” she smirked up at him, “because it’s never going to happen.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“Thank you,” came the response.

Looking about as pleased as he felt, Miguel gave in, his head falling forward with a sigh. “You don’t even know what happened,” he mumbled. “What if that changes your mind?”

“You said it was an accident,” she said, leaning her own head forward so she could still see his eyes.

“It was,” he immediately confirmed, a little too desperately. “It was, but…” He paused, teeth gritting as he struggled to get the words out. It was difficult for him to tell if he just didn’t know what to say, or if he was too afraid to actually say it. Both options were equally as likely, and, also, equally as frustrating. “I… If I’d been smarter- If I’d just been more careful in the first place, then I never would have needed to- I wouldn’t have had to- Because I had to, Xina, I swear. Or- Or I thought I did. You have to understand that I- I didn’t want to… But if I’d just- I don’t know. If I’d done better- If I’d been better I… I wouldn’t be…”

When he trailed off for the second time, lips pursed with frustration both at his past self for everything that had gone wrong and for his current self for messing this up, too, Xina hummed and graced his hand with another comforting squeeze, forcing him to look up at her and meet her gaze with misty eyes.

“It’s okay, Miguel,” she gently assured. “You don’t have to tell me. You may have been pompous-”

“I was not pompous.”

“-but you were never stupid, do you hear me? Arrogance or not, I don’t pin you as the kind of man to mess with his genetics just for fun,” Xina conceded, and a bit of the tension left Miguel’s shoulders. Then, she huffed, smiling teasingly and clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Especially since you so clearly thought you were perfect already.”

Miguel glowered at her, though it wasn’t very intimidating with his hands still gently held by hers and eyes still red with unshed tears. “Pushing your luck with the guy with claws. Not very smart.”

“Yeah, yeah. Beat me at Pac-Man, and then try threatening me again.” She laughed, meeting his eyes with her own sparkling with empathetic grief; there was a distinct lack of fear where there had been before, and Miguel couldn’t help but to let out a small breath of relief. She must have heard it because she gripped his hand tightly once more.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Xina repeated, firm. “It wasn’t intentional. That’s what I was really worried about. That would have been scary.” She brought their hands up between them, glancing to them and smiling. “Claws or not, you’re still the same old Miguel.”

Miguel’s eyes locked onto their hands, too, and he managed to return a small smile. The relief was both light and heavy at the same time, making his shoulders sag in exhaustion as all of the tension and adrenaline resided and left him with the familiar fatigue of the moment the fight ended and he felt safe once more. Although he’d never say it out loud – knowing well that he’d be teased for it – Miguel could firmly admit that none of the foes he’d faced as Spider-Man had ever scared him half as much as this, and, in turn, they’d never left him with half of the respite after the fact.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

“Whenever you want, Miguel,” Xina replied, genuine, then, after a beat, “I do have one question, though.”

Frowning, Miguel hesitated again.

“It’s really simple, I promise!” she reassured, shaking his hands with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have to answer. Just hear me out.”

Only minimally soothed, he let out a long sound of dismay that ended with an exasperated, “fine. Shoot.”

Then, face beaming, Xina asked the most stupid question Miguel could have possibly thought of, “Are you a vampire?”

For a moment, he could only stare, too surprised to even remember how to show it. Then, his eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side with a pointed look. “I remember you being smarter,” he deadpanned.

Finally, Xina pulled her hands out of his, raising them in surrender with a vivacious laugh. “I just had to be sure!”

“Oh, you just had to be sure. Of course,” Miguel echoed, unamused. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with yourself, idiota.” He huffed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Quite satisfied, as a matter of fact,” she shot back, and how could he be mad when she was smiling at him like that.

Biting back a laugh, he tried harder to maintain his frown. “You’re the worst, do you know that? Just the worst.”

“Aw, come on,” she tutted. “If I’m so bad, then why were we a couple?” Xina smirked, quoting his own words from their reunion all those weeks ago.

Then, Miguel couldn’t hold back his smile anymore, returning her exact response. “Because I felt sorry for you,” he quoted. “And it bugged my dad.”

“As good of a reason as any,” she hummed, a hand resting on her hip. Then, her eyes narrowed as she seemed to realise something. “You know, I know I made fun of you for that wall crawling joke back then, but, knowing what I know now, it actually is funny.”

A short huff of surprise fell from Miguel’s mouth at the statement, and he was reminded again just how different Xina Kwan was from Dana D’Angelo; someone who certainly wouldn’t understand what had happened to him, and someone who had pushed him for the truth even when he’d begged her not to; not Xina Kwan; not the person who’d believed he could be better even when he didn’t want to be and encouraged him once he finally did. The realisation was a pleasant one – a rare moment of pure glee that he revelled in amidst all of the sorrow he’d been surrounded by as of late – and his face was overtaken by a wide smile, red eyes crinkling in joy and fangs on full display as he laughed once more.

This time, Xina didn’t even flinch, just laughing along with him.

#blaise writes #miguel o'hara #xina kwan #xinamiguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 comics #spider man 2099 #atsv #astv fanfiction #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #i think about them so much #we never got to see xina find out that miguel was spider-man in the comics #and i think that's a travesty #but also miguel literally would have never told her #so i have to meet in the middle a little bit

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pyre-of-rune · 3 years

Text

Crown of Flowers[Mammon x Florist!GN!MC]

Summary: Mammon’s good mood is ruined by his brothers again and this time he’s not able to contain his emotions.

CW: Mammon angst, the brothers are bitches(canonically let’s be real), MC comforts Mammon, there’s a lot of crying

Author’s Note: I have not written fanfiction in a long time and I’ve never written Mammon before, so I honestly can’t tell if I made him super accurate or not🤷 if you guys think there’s something about the way I wrote the characters I could improve on, feel free to let me know! Just be respectful about it<3

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“HEY HUMAN!” The avatar of greed called out, flinging open the door to the exchange student’s room. “Where are ya?!” He looked around, but the room was empty. “MC???” Mammon huffed, “probably out working with their stupid flowers again.”

As much as Mammon teased MC about their passion, he thought it was the cutest. He’d never say that aloud, though! And you can’t say anything either! Got it, reader?! Yes, you!…that aside, Mammon had important things to tell MC today! He needed to find them. Shutting the door behind him, Mammon made his way down the hall again, this time meaning to head out of the House of Lamentation.

Mammon groaned under his breath when he found most of his brothers seated in the living room he needed to pass through to get out the door. Just his luck! Here he was hoping he wouldn’t have to run into them much today because he knew they’d just find a way to ruin his good mood, but of course things never go as one hopes.

Despite his best attempts, Mammon wasn’t very good at being stealthy. So, it surprised no one when his name was called as he tried to sneak past his once angelic kin. He sighed, turning to look at his brothers reluctantly “whadd’ya want? I’m busy here!” this made Satan—who was sitting in the armchair reading a book—scoff in mock amusement “what could you possibly be busy with?”

“A lot of things actually! None of which y’all would understand, because ya can’t imagine the kind of important things your big brother, THE great Mammon, is up to!” Mammon says, placing his hands on his hips. He IS up to important things! There’s a lot of things about him that his brothers just don’t know! Not because Mammon refuses to share, but because ever since they fell to the Devildom, they’re all too occupied with their own interests to care enough to listen.

“Mammon. Quit talking nonsense.” Lucifer, the oldest brother of them all, rebuked him. “What are you actually up to?” Mammon bristled “If you GOTTA know, I’m gonna find MC!” There was a collective sigh from all his brothers. “Mammon, you shouldn’t bother MC so much! Too much annoying presence everyday is bad for their skin!” Asmo cried “their poor, perfect skin! You’re going to give them wrinkles!”

Crap. Mammon inwardly cursed himself. He shouldn’t have told them where he was going. He’d have been better off making up something stupid, even if it got him exasperated looks. It would be far easier to bare than the things they say to him when they know he’s on his way to meet MC. All of them, they always don this disappointed look, telling him that MC has better things to do than converse with him.

They were right, though. He knew that. He wasn’t worth MC’s time, that much was a given. He was all of the things they said he was and he knew it. Mammon let their chastising voices fade away as he turned, fleeing the House of Lamentation. So what if he was annoying? So what if he was greedy, selfish, and reckless? He knew all that already! He knows he’s lazy! He knows he’s a scumbag, a good-for-nothing, a liar, and a waste of space! He KNOWS, damn it!

So why did they have to remind him everyday? If there was one thing Mammon wanted more than money or fame, it was for his brothers to keep their derogatory comments to themselves for a day. Just one day where they didn’t bring him down and ruin his mood!

He felt something warm roll down his cheek as he speed walked away from the house, away from his brothers, and it took him a moment to realize they were tears. Damn it. He’d been so good today. So happy. Now he couldn’t even remember the feeling as he walked through the garden, now holding back sobs. Mammon wiped furiously at the tears, annoyed when they refused to cease.

Couldn’t they understand that Mammon had feelings too? Surely they didn’t think he was unfazed by their words? No, they had to see that Mammon did care. No matter how much he wished he didn’t. Oh, what the demon wouldn’t give to be as cold and collected as Lucifer, or as self-assured and cynical as Satan or Belphie. As confident and graceful as Asmo. Or even like Beel, blissfully unaware of his infamy in the eyes of others. Even Levi didn’t get nearly as much hate as Mammon did daily, and that guy literally berates himself!

He rubbed his eyes so hard they hurt, and it only amplified his reasons for crying as he stopped walking, about to drop to his knees when a familiar voice called out to him.

He looked up to see MC, his vision of them blurred by tears. “M-MC…?” The human’s brows furrowed in confusion and sadness as they approached him “Mammon, what happened??” And there it was. That voice, that face, that person. That person who made Mammon feel so…he didn’t even have the word to describe it, but it was the complete opposite of how he felt around his brothers.

With MC looking at him like that, their gentle eyes locked upon his in concern, Mammon felt the weak barrier he had built in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay all these years finally give way and tumble. He let out the sobs that he’d been struggling so hard against only moments before, completely breaking down as MC took the last few steps forward and wrapped their arms around him, letting Mammon bury his face in their shoulder as he continued to cry, sobs wracking his entire body and causing him to shake.

MC felt their own eyes watering as they held him. They would ask what happened again, but they get the feeling they already know. MC had suspected for awhile that the seemingly ‘harmless’ insults the other brothers threw at Mammon cut him a lot deeper than he let on. Even while MC was present, the demons were ruthless with their opinions.

They sigh, pulling Mammon closer and rubbing circles into his back. “Shh…it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here…” MC mumbled into his hair, kissing the top of his head “whatever they said to you, ignore it, because their opinions don’t matter. They’re stupid and have no idea what they’re talking about, got it?”

MC pulled back to look at Mammon, who’s sobbing calmed slightly and was startled to give way to silent laughter at the insults to his brothers. MC smiled “that’s more like it! Sadness doesn’t suit you.” They say, cupping Mammon’s cheeks “you’re THE great Mammon, after all!”

Mammon felt his heart swell. “Yeah…yeah! I don’t know what I was doin’, cryin’ like that! Those guys don’t even matter! Their words don’t actually effect me, ya know! I was just…playing along. To make em feel bad, ya know?” He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to regain his dignity(it wasn’t working) “make them appreciate me more!”

MC laughed “oh yeah! Here.” Mammon tilted his head as MC reached behind them, detaching a flower crown from their bag and lifting it up, placing it on Mammon. “I was actually on my way to give this to you, but…I guess you beat me to it.” they chuckled.

Mammon grabbed the crown, lowering it so he could look at the flowers. He recognized it immediately as a flower—or at least, a close replica of the human world flower—MC had taught him about before. Alchemilla Mollis, more commonly known as Lady’s Mantle. It was a common garden plant back on earth, and symbolized comforting. A way of telling a loved one you’re here for them. Mammon knew MC knew this. They’re the one that taught him this.

He felt his chest tighten again, but not out of despair this time. Mammon’s lip quivered and he hugged MC once more, squeezing tightly. “Thank you…”

The two spend the next few hours hanging out and giving reassuring gestures, be them hugs or just a soft squeeze of the arm or shoulder.

“Boys.”

The demons looked up when MC walked in, Asmo jumping up to greet them with an embrace. MC stopped him, much to the demon’s confusion, taking hold of his wrist and pushing him away. The other brothers seemed just as confused—and some a little intimidated—as MC fixed them all with a glare.

“I think we’re long overdue for a little chat.”

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Lady’s Mantle:

A song that reminds me of Mammon and MC:

#fanfiction #obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon avatar of greed #mammon x mc #mammon angst #obey me angst #oneshot #mc comforts mammon #the brothers are shitty #but we been knew #Mammon deserves better #Spotify

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thatredheadwriter · 3 years

Text

All to Myself

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Peter comes home from patrol to find his girlfriend started without him. You only hope he’ll give you the relief you’ve been chasing.

Hey everybody! So some other blogs I follow have been making me thirsty for TASM!Peter Parker and I decided to do something about it. Now, do I literally have 25+ WIPs (not including asks) rn? Yes, yes I do. But my brain only likes to work on things it wants to work on, so here’s this. Sorry if it’s trash, but I like it. Most of this is total pwp, but I have plans to do a prequel fic that is fluffy and angsty and maybe a little smutty. Btw, I kinda hate the ending, but it felt nice.

This is an NSFW oneshot for (implied female) reader with TASM!Peter Parker. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18 (or the age of majority in your locale). As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

Sex toys

Female masturbation

Edging

Slight (consensual in the sense that it’s a shared bedroom where they are often intimate, but its not explicitly consented to, so possibly dub-) consensual voyeurism

dom!Peter (if you squint, but you don’t have to squint too hard)

Female orgasm denial

Oral (female receiving)

Fingering

P in V penetrative sex

Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Mentions of shower sex (not really a warning, just pretty please be careful if you try it in real life, cause y’know, it’s slippery)

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You pulled the silicone toy out of your aching cunt only to rub it over your clit, free hand fisting the sheets as you bit back a moan. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, you were so close to that edge. You’d been close for the last hour, but you just couldn’t reach that final peak. You huffed to blow some loose hair out of your face before moving the toy back down to your glistening hole.

Peter had been ridiculously busy between his day job and his side-gig, usually not swinging in until well after you’d gone to bed. You yourself had been occupied moving your things into the apartment and going through a million different trainings and orientations at the hospital, just so you could start working the graveyard shift full time next week.

Determined to get some relief, you imagined it was Peter playing with you instead of yourself. His cock buried deep inside you, his fingers pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your nightshirt. The moan leaving your mouth was cut off by a dark chuckle coming from the corner of your room. Your head shot up from the pillow to see Peter leaned against the wall wearing his suit and a wicked smirk.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now,” he flashed a lopsided grin, pushing off from a stack of boxes and closing the short distance to the bed. The elastic material of his suit left little to the imagination and you could see a large and growing bulge between his legs.

“Peter, I just got so…I wanted to wait but…”

“Oh, I know. I know exactly what you were doing, sweets. Now I’m just wondering if you should keep going, or if you’d rather let me take over?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “take over. It’s been an hour and I just can’t…” your begging came out in ragged breaths, you were nearly sobbing, ready for release.

His look softened, but his eyes stayed hungry as he stripped off the top half of his suit, followed quickly by the bottom, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. He palmed himself through them for a moment before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was a heady mixture, combining with your extreme arousal to drive you just the slightest bit insane. Your nails slid down the muscles of his back as you tried to pull him closer to you.

“Pete, please, I need you,” you whined.

“I know, I know baby,” he broke away to coo in your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin underneath it, leaving a sloppy trail down your neck. “I just need to taste you first. I was going to come in the front door, but then I was on the roof and I could just smell that sweet pussy. I knew you needed me, so I decided to slip in the window and see what you were up to.”

He tugged lightly at the bottom of your shirt and you sat up just enough for him to pull it up and over your head, exposing your nipples to the cool air. The corner of his lip dragged up as he took in your bare chest, a sight he swore he’d never get used to. Before you knew it, his hot mouth was back on your sensitive skin, biting and marking all over, successfully making you even more desperate for his cock.

By the time he continued his journey southward you were writing underneath him, grinding your bare slit up against his leg.

“Please, I just need you to touch me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing, sweets?” he joked, earning him a playful smack on the chest.

“Dammit, Peter. If you don’t hurry up, I’m going back to the-”

Two of Pete’s long, nimble fingers thrusting deep into your heat cut you off, and you threw your head back in ecstasy as they expertly found your g-spot.

“What was that, baby?”

You could only whimper in pleasure as his mouth joined his fingers, sucking at your folds and sensitive clit as he worked you open, getting you ready for him.

In just over a minute, he had you closer than you’d gotten yourself in an hour, Your fingers were tangled in his chestnut hair, keeping him close. Not that he was pulling away. No his tongue was buried deep within your folds and a third finger joined the first two in fucking your cunt.

“God, Peter! I’m gonna cum,” you warned, your hips driving up to meet his thrusts.

You were there, on the edge, when suddenly everything stopped. His hair slipped through your fingers and he was no longer touching you. Neither you nor Peter recognized the noise that came out of your mouth. It was some sort of primal scream.

“Shh, shhh, baby, I’m going to let you cum, but not yet,” his words did little to calm you, especially as you finally caught sight of his leaking cock. “Want to feel you come undone around me.”

You just whimpered in excitement as he lowered his body over yours, leaning in to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. He swallowed one of your whines as he slid his tip between your folds. Slicking himself with your juices, he took his time before finally pushing into you. He bottomed out in a single thrust and you couldn’t help the deep moan that escaped.

“That’s it, baby, gonna make you cum on my cock,” Peter’s teeth scraped the shell of your ear and he began thrusting into you at an animalistic pace. One hand tangled itself in your hair and pulled sharply, exposing the skin of your neck to a fresh assault from his wet mouth. His other hand ended up on the headboard, supporting his weight and steadying it a bit from knocking into the wall.

“Oh…Peter. Fuck…I can’t. Gonna…” Peter had fucked your brains into mush, sentences were impossible.

“Come on, (Y/N). Cum for me.”

Your world fell apart in a violent explosion of bliss as your face was frozen in a silent scream. You were vaguely aware of Peter still fucking you like his life depended on it, but it felt like he was a world away. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his length and you could tell he was close to his own release.

Just as you were coming back around to the real world, Peter pulled out of your sensitive sex and painted your chest and belly with cum. He rolled to the side, chest heaving.

Your vision came back into focus and you were greeted to the sight of post-orgasm Peter. His hair stuck out in all different directions and a permanent grin was etched into his face. One of his hands found its way to your face and he began stroking your cheek.

“Hey, sweets,” he sighed, “You still with me?”

Your own breath was just beginning to slow, so you just gave him a sleepy smile and a nod, making him chuckle a bit.

“M’sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” the rough pad of his thumb caressed your jawbone as he rolled over to kiss you again.

“I’ve been busy too, Petey,” you grinned, using the nickname you’d given him way back when you met the glasses-wearing, messy-haired little boy who had been your best friend for nearly twenty years now.

“Let’s go on a date.”

Your face twisted into one of confusion before you both burst into laughter.

“Babe, come on. You just fucked my brains out. I love you too, but maybe we should go out literally any other time,” you laughed.

“Fine, then a date-night in? I can swing out, get some dinner, maybe some of that raspberry cheesecake from Junior’s that you love so much?”

You pretended to think for a minute before answering him, “I think I’d be down for that. But I’d rather order delivery?”

“Why? I’m faster and the food will be hotter, not to mention you can tip me by doing some more of-”

You cut him off with a playful elbow to the chest. “I’d rather pay extra for delivery if it means I get to have you all to myself for the rest of the night.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, “I guess I can understand that.”

With that, you got out of bed and made your way to the door. Looking over your shoulder you couldn’t help chuckle at Peter’s confused face.

“You order the food, I’m going to go clean up. Maybe if you hurry, you can join me in the shower for round two.”

The last thing you saw as you exited the bedroom was Peter diving for his discarded suit and the phone within, hellbent finishing the order before you finished in the shower.

thatredheadwriter’s Masterlist

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter oneshot #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x reader smut #tasm!peter x reader fluff

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pinkgoldenstars · 3 years

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Midnight Escapades {Legolas x Reader}

not my gif

she/her pronounce

word count: 1,2k

TW: none

Summary: Both you and Legolas are members of Mirkwood’s royal guard, but after another tiring day, you sneak out into the forest to watch the stars and enjoy each other’s company.

(pre lotr)

A.N. So, I’ve been working on this for the past couple of days and I’m quite pleased with the result. Even though I’ve written fanfiction before, this is my first try on a lotr one, as I’m new to the fandom. I still don’t get what canon means, so please go easy on me, I tried to be as accurate as possible.

All elvish comes from different sources, so feel free to correct any mistakes.

-Don’t forget to use the InteractiveFics chrome extension to replace y/n with your name :)

“You’re going to fall.” Legolas half-shouted from the tree’s base

“And you are an ud’raan(asshole),” Y/n replied, determined to reach the higher branches.

As members of the royal guard, the coming of spring after the freezing winter months meant only one thing: more work. While the other elves enjoyed the newfound warmth of the late morning's and early noon's, the rest of the guard -always upon the king's request- found themselves lingering on the outdoors for more hours than ever. Whether it was running with the rise of the sun, practicing their combat skills, or even cleaning the armory, the Mirkwood's guards were out and about, so that they would make the most of the rising temperatures before the heated months of Nòrui(June) and Cerveth(July) arrived, as the aran(king) insisted. It was an understatement at the least, to admit that the new schedule was leaving them exhausted, with aching muscles, a few hours for sleep and absolutely no time to spare.

After three weeks of constant early morning exercises, killing spiders in the forest, training, cleaning and policing the already shiny armors, Y/n was fed up with the excruciating routine. Thus, an hour after midnight, she snuck out of her chambers in order to admire the stars she so adored. Of course, Legolas came along -much to the latter's reservedness- as he'd unofficially taken up the role of her closest company.

“As much as I love climbing trees with you,” he ignored y/n’s remark and followed her suit, “sneaking out so long after midnight doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“And since when have I been known for having good ideas?” she raised her brows, eyeing Legolas from a few branches above.

The elleth found the perfect spot: a log wide and long enough to comfortably -as comfortable sitting on a cylindrical piece of wood can- fit them both.

“Excellent remark,” he exhaled, before prompting himself up next to her.

“Watch your legs,” y/n teased him, slapping his knees as Legolas attempted to adjust his position to have a better view of the forest’s treetops.

They were now seated on a branch of Mirkwood’s largest oak tree and a mild breeze was swirling the smell of pine, rain, and wet tree trunks around. Y/n was already looking down, taking in the sea of green before her feet and the dark colors of the night sky. The air was warm around them, offering a strange sense of safety and security, which, combined with some good company, ensured this would be one of those nights.

You know, when the stars shine a bit more bright and the moon seems to have come a bit closer. When the insects stay silent and everything is calm and peaceful and perfect.

Yes, Y/n realized. This is one of those nights, she smiled, looking over at the blond elf.

“Legolas,” her voice broke the silence, “I heard they’ll bring a new bunch of blueberries tomorrow!” she beamed. “I haven’t had them in months, we should steal some from the kitchens before they turn them all into pies.”

Legolas winked at her, before taking a small pouch out of his bag. “I believe you must've been misinformed,” he began to untie the knot keeping the opening closed. “They actually dropped them off this morning”. After a bit of straining, he finally pulled the string away, revealing a few, but neatly stored, handfuls of blueberries.

“Oh my Valar!” Y/n cheered, a huge smile taking over her features.

She was quick to reach out, enveloping the ellon in a celebratory, bone-crushing hug, whispering a chant of appreciative thank-yous on his neck.

“Woah, meleth nin(my love), be careful,” Legolas kissed her cheek, “or we’ll both end up on the ground.”

As the time passed slowly, like thick honey pouring out of a glass jar, y/n was happily munching on her berries, while cozily laying on Legolas’s shoulder, who was also enjoying some almonds he cared to bring as well.

Their feet were casually dangling in the air as they were both staring at the sky, observing the endless sea of stars, wrapped in their own bubble of comfortable silence, which they occasionally broke for lingering forehead kisses and mumbled I-love-yous.

“I missed being with you like this,” Legolas admitted, taking a blueberry from her pouch.

“Me too, we should really find more time for things like this.” Y/n agreed, stealing two almonds off of his. “Any time without you is far too long,” she trailed off, realizing just how much she had yearned for his presence in the past weeks.”And lately, with all that new training Thranduil has added to our working hours we barely see each other.”

Legolas hummed in agreement, pulling her a bit closer and resting his head on hers. Y/n hooked their ankles and wrapped her hand around his middle, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“Maybe I should ask him about cutting a few hours off? Maybe even have a day off?”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, turning around to look at him. A teasing smile was dancing on her lips. “Would you look at that!” she laughed.” First you sneak out, then I learn that you stole from the kitchens and now you want to go against your ada?”. She propped herself back on his lap. “Our little Legolas is getting into his rebel faze.”

“In my defense,” he attempted to come off as serious, “you’re the one who forced me to come here-”

“Force is a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“If my memory doesn’t deceive me, your exact words were: You’ll either sneak out with me or I’ll fold the pages of your journal in half and rip the cover off. “

“Alright, fair point, I’ll give you that one.” Y/n sneakered. “On a serious note though, we really have to bring the working hours problem up to the next council. Or I’ll have to get you to come on forced dates for the rest of our lives.”

They laughed at her joke, which left their faces with two small and genuine smiles. Legolas observed her features, caressing her cheek with his hand, lightly drawing perfect circles on her flushed skin.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asked.

Even before they were courting, whenever their lips would brush over each other, like a silver paintbrush on a linen canvas, Legolas would slightly pull away, staying close -but not close enough- and ask for a kiss.

He was a tease, and a damn good one, leaving y/n always flushed and eager for more. His palms would get wrapped around her hips, thumb pressing the skin under her tunic ,and still, he’d ask. And she always replied, always gave in, whether it was with a whine or an oh my Valar, just kiss me already spurred from her lips. She wouldn’t hesitate to grab his chin to get what she wanted or explore the crook of his neck.

This time though, the elleth leaned in, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss.

“No, wait, I want a real kiss,” Legolas insisted, needily pursing his lips.

So Y/n closed the distance between them once more, sneaking her hand into the back of his neck, pulling the hair there just right.

His lips were soft, like the winter’s first snow and she melted into their sweetness like ice under the spring sun.

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas fluff #legolas one shot #lotr imagine #legolas fanfiction #legolas fanfic

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imakemywings · 3 years

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Thorinduil Fic Recs

Yo so apparently it’s Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day, so in honor of that I thought I’d share some recommendations from my recent reading which is...basically all Thorinduil. So.

Be sure to check content warnings and tags on the original post and feel free to share if you have other recommendations!

20th Century Boy by ScarletTyler - 7.9k - M - Thorin knows better than to fall in love with a rock star. His stubbornness has never met its match, that is until a certain three-meter tall, bottle-blond, bushy browed diva proves to him that there is always more than meets the eye.

A Prince by Any Other Name by TrekFaerie - 1.8k - E - Thranduil learns a very important lesson in the importance of accurate translation when interacting with foreign cultures.

Axe and Flame by Stewardess - 25k - M - After detecting a mysterious presence in his fortress, Thranduil moves Thorin to a more secure location: his bedroom. A blend of book canon (in which the dwarves are held for forty-two days) and movie canon. Set in The Desolation Of Smaug film time period.

Blame Game by HeartofStanding - 459 - G - Thorin's going to blame something, but he's not sure what.

Dantalion by Angelas - 2.2k - E - In which Thranduil becomes distant and Thorin heeds whispers of Thranduil's rumored re-marriage. And torments himself with it.

Devices of the Heart by stewardess - 49k - M - While visiting the outskirts of Mirkwood on business, Thorin meets a white stag determined to ruin his life. Or so it seems. Young and inexperienced, Thorin may yet be the prince who succeeds in laying bare the white stag's secret.

Distraction by Valmouth - 10.6k - E - One hundred and ninety two is old enough now to know why he must stop the elf from touching him, and to understand the consequences of what he may do if he fails.

Ear to the Ground, Eye to the Sky by allthegoodnamesaretakendammit - 17k - E - He remembers. He remembers waking up this fateful morning, the way the sun had slanted through the window and struck the cut glass mirror, throwing scattered glory across the stone ceiling in fractals of rainbow color. He remembers thinking what a good omen it must be, to have gemstones transposed above his bed, for his eyes alone.

Today, Thorin stares at the light dancing above him and is paralyzed by mounting horror. He knows that he is not in the halls of his ancestors because he feels no sense of peace.

The Fragility of Winter by meshkol - 12.5k - T - His mind is torn between so many things: old love and the possibility of a new one; the guilt of betrayal that may or may not be warranted; staying in his familiar, though lonely life without the terror of change and uprooting everything he is comfortable with for something that is daring and exciting and has a huge chance of failure.

Gift Giving by Smidget25 - 2.5k - T - In which Thorin tries to give the Elvenking a present and it all goes dreadfully wrong.

The Heart is Bold That Looks on Gold by Liu - 6.9k - M - Thorin could not expect what was to come when one Elven King came to visit Erebor...

History Lesson by Stewardess - 3.2k - T - A Thorin and Thranduil first meeting story. At Girion of Dale's coronation, Thorin's grandfather Thror is determined to prove dwarves are the equal of elves. Takes place a few years before the "gem snub" scene shown in flashback in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey extended edition.

Mourning the Fallen by umi_no_arawashi - 759 - T - The battle has been fought, and now it is time to count the dead.

Naught but Ice and Silver by HaruIchigo - 1.5k - T- Not every jewel can be found under the ground.

Ownership by Randy Thrandy - 4.6k - E - Thorin hated to covet his father's lover, but Thranduil is the temptress of his youth and enables his unhealthy obsession.

Scars by Valmouth - 3k - T - The Dragon, Thranduil thinks, would have done better to keep Thorin son of Thrain with the rest of his treasure hoard.

Tease Me, Please Me by uprightpiano - 1.2k - M - Thorin drops in on one of his clubs for a routine visit and spends some time with the club's favourite employee.

Warning: Sex on Legs in the Kitchen by uprightpiano - 500 - G - Thorin wakes up one night (out of many such nights) to a party in his kitchen. Starring Thranduil as the Party King, the many Elves as The Partygoers, and Thorin as That Guy.

Where You’ve Gone by Clearblueskies - 1k - T - Thranduil’s hair is crimson, his mouth white. Thorin feels heavy, so heavy― he tells himself that’s all that makes him bend and sit with him.

Vertigo by heartofstanding - 2.8k - T - Thorin gets stuck up a tree, Thranduil rescues him and has a revelation.

Plus one bonus Tauriel/Thranduil that I couldn’t fit anywhere else:

Copper and Starlight by ourdailymask - 2.6k - G - The Age of Elves is ending and the last of the Mirkwood elves arrive at the Grey Havens. Some partings are more difficult than expected.

#Thorin #thranduil #thorinduil #fanfic recs #the hobbit #tolkien #thorin oakenshield #tolkien fanfiction #thorin x thranduil #tauriel #tauriel x thranduil #I hadn't read 20th Century Boy before I dabbled in rockstar Thranduil #but I am THRILLED to know I am not the only one who had that idea

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comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny · 3 years

Text

I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

#just google it #better represent real life #if you tell a fic reader to ngl you're being pretty ableist and don't really have a good idea of how search engines work #also when people DO try to make culturally accurate fics often times at least one or two people will pop in and say 'actually that's wrong'#not to mention sometimes they might not even be right to begin with...#and okay once or twice it is what it is #but seriously if this keeps happening over and over most people are just going to stop writing or caring #fanfiction #fanfiction is literally free #fanfiction is free labor #adding layers upon layers of research and knowledge needed- on top of how difficult it can be to portray human emotion #it's not going to it's just going to make once starry eyed writers loss their ability to enjoy their work #and guess what #some ACTUALLY racist (or homophobic or transphobic or misogynistic) writer is going to swoop in not giving two fucks #and they're going to go on and get their work published because they don't care about accuracy

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 3 years

Text

Ghost Term Guide for Fanfiction (Incomplete)

I’ve been sitting on this for a while but here is a small guide for Ghost fans who are writing fiction :)

I noticed there are a LOT of very specific terms that might be confusing to new members when it comes to fandom lingo- on top of there being a lot of religious garbs and other terminology! This is something I just made in my spare time with research.

I will reblog and update this every so often. This is also just from MY personal research, but I will try to keep it as accurate and informed as possible.

Thanks!

Religious Garb:

(Note: A quick reminder that all of these garments can be subjected to various changes depending on the exact faith they are being used for. I tried to keep this as close to western Catholic and Christianity for the sake of simplicity and to match the exact religious themes used by the band.)

Alb - A typical priest’s robe or tunic, often plain and white. Usually long sleeved and ankle length with minimum decoration to symbolize purity. Sometimes worn plain or with a cincture. Albs are also worn over cassocks but under important vestments like the chasuble. (Papa III’s alb is the garment he wears with the lace gold sleeves under his chasuble.)

Amice - A white, square shaped linen cloth worn over the shoulders and under the alb or other vestments. In the middle ages it also served as a hood or cap. Typically worn during mass or new baptisms.

Balaclava - Also called a ski mask or a bally. A head fitting cloth mask that usually has the mouth or eyes cut out. Typically worn under helmets of costume masks. (Used by nameless Ghouls under their masks.)

Bauta Mask - a style of Venetian Carnival mask. Marked by having no mouth, a full covering for the face, and a pointed chin and jaw line. (Black ones worn by the Era II Nameless Ghouls.)

Biretta - A Square cap characterized by having three to four peaks and sometimes decorated with a decorative tuft. A cap’s color can also designate rank within a clergy: Red for Cardinals, Purple for Bishops, and Black for priests. Worn both for and outside of ceremony. (See Cardinal Copia’s pointed hat.)

Cappello Romano - (also called a Saturno) a wide brimmed hat with no ceremonial purpose. Just used as a sun hat when paired with a cassock. Designs change depending on the rank of the wearer. Popes typically wear red with gold detail. Black is the typical color for eveyone.

Cassock

Chasuble

Cincture

Clerical Collar

Crosier

Ferula - or “Papal Ferula” is that staff carried and used only by the Pope, decorated with a knob on the top and a cross. (See Papa II’s staff with the Grucifex on top.)

Habit - Clothing uniform worn by members of a religious order. In this case, a nun’s dress.

Mitre - The ceremonial headdresses worn by Bishops and Abbots. Characterized by a pointed, two sided structure that is decorated at the base with lappets. Also worn by Cardinals and the Pope. Three different types exist and are all done for very different occasions. Mitres are typically white with varying degrees of decoration for the occasion. (See all the mitres worn by each Papa.)

Rochets - a shorter, white linen tunic that is used by Cardinals and Bishops that is worn over the cassock. It has narrower sleeves and is often decorated with white lace or embroidery on the sleeves and ends of the garment. In Catholicism it is only worn by these higher clergymen and prelates as choir dress, as given permission to them by the Pope.

Stole

Surplice

Vestments - Term for ceremonial clothing or clothing symbolizing religious office worn during service. Think Chasubles, stoles, etc.

Wimple - headdress or veil worn by nuns.

Zucchetto - A silky skullcap that resembles a hemispherical beret. They are colored based on rank. Retired and acting popes wear white, cardinals wear scarlet, Archbishops/bishops/abbots wear amaranth, and priests and deacons wear black.

Items:

Athame - Ritualistic dagger, often decorative and considered sacred.

Host/Communion Wafer

Pew

Thurible

Ranks/Titles:

Mother Superior

Nun

Church based Locations:

Abbey

Cathedral

Cloister

Parish

Pulpit

Sacristy

Catholic/Religious Terms:

Canon/Canon Law

Clergy - All ordained members that perform the duties of a religious organization.

Conclave

Confession

Congregation

Doctrine

Delict

Ecclesial Law

Epicospal

Eucharist

Excommunication

Faculty

Laicization

Laity - Non-ordained members of a religious organization, also known as laypersons/laymen/laywomen.

Liturgy

Liturgical

Mass

Ministry

Ordinance

Ordinary

Penance

Prelate - a high ranking clergy member or church dignitary with authority over a jurisdiction. Usually an Ordinary in the church. Typically an abbot, bishop, or cardinal.

Province

Rite

Ritual

Sacrament

Seminary

Superior

Vespers

Satanic/Luciferian Terms:

Demon

Important Figures/Demons:

Baphomet

Lilith

Lucifer

Mammon

Satan

Ghost Exclusive/Contextual Terms:

Nameless Ghouls - the masked and nameless members of the band that serve under Papa. Always instruments or back up vocals.

Grucifex - The play on the Ghost Grucifex. The official symbol of the band and the clergy. An upside down cross decorated with a ‘G’ for Ghost.

Ghuleh

Papa - The head of the Clergy and the Ghost project. Essentially an Anti-pope and unholy leader of the ministry. Also the lead singer of the band.

Prime Mover - In lyrics, the title given to the nun who will go on to birth the Antichrist. In fandom terms it is often given to the mothers of the Emeritus line.

Ritual - The name given to the band’s concerts.

Sisters/Brothers/Siblings/Children of Sin - The members of the congregation of the Church of Ghost.

Fan Made Accepted Terms or Definitions:

Kit(s) - Juvenile/Infant Ghouls

#ghost fandom #fandom guide #reference guide

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freddieofhearts · 4 years

Text

Bye bye, dears (for now!)

I know there have been a lot of rumours and some posts about me leaving, so here I am to set the record straight and say a quick ‘au revoir’. This post is long, and I don’t expect everyone to read the whole thing—if you just want information on how to keep in touch, or about access to my removed fics, scroll to the bottom. ⬇️

Why are you leaving?

Firstly, of course I’m not leaving Freddie. This is just an ongoing hiatus from the social side of fandom, because while I have some incredible friends here, who have done all they can to support me and have made this experience wonderful in lots of ways—it’s also true that the social space has become more and more toxic for me.

I get a wild amount of hate. Despite never having my ask box enabled on here, people create new accounts just to message me and tell me all the problems in this fandom are my fault, that I’m faking being sick, that I should kill myself, that I’m fat, etc. I also very regularly get hateful comments on AO3.

Obviously I realise that I’m not the only one who receives these cruel attacks, but it’s become increasingly hard to handle them—especially as some people (‘real’ accounts, not faceless anons) do continue to blame me for wider problems in the fandom. It makes me feel consistently sad, anxious, and paranoid, so that I can’t focus on anything Queen-related that I enjoy.

More pressingly, it’s affected my mental health, which is—imperfect at the best of times. As I’ve occasionally alluded to in older posts on this blog, I have a history of anorexia, OCD, PTSD, and some other overlapping issues. Most people who know me in the fandom are also aware that I’m ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’ to Covid-19, significantly immunocompromised, and have been isolating at home for eleven months.

The combination of all of these things + the constant toxic messages has really been triggering me, and leading to an uptick in disordered behaviours, which my body cannot sustain. Every new instance of hate from an anon—every time there’s another indication of groups in the fandom wanting to ostracise me further—my reaction is deeply self-punitive and unhealthy. Ultimately I need to be out of this environment for, at least, a protracted period. My therapist, my partner and my close friends in the fandom support this decision.

So, what went wrong?

In 2019, I expected to be an absolutely tiny blog in the Queen Tumblr landscape. The fandom was already well-established, and I have never worked to ‘build a following’ on here—I think I’ve linked my own fic a maximum of three or four times!—in fact, more or less the opposite. As I mentioned above: ya girl is nutty as a fruitcake. As a result, I often avoid extremely niche things in daily life which cause severe anxiety for me, Relevant examples here: I never look at my timeline. I never intentionally look at my follower number. Yup, it’s strange, I fully admit it, but it’s best for me to go with these things—usually. In Queen fandom, however, this avoidance both of analytic stats and of most direct engagement led to some problems... My followers grew without me realising, and way more people were reading my blog than I was aware of. I was still in a—“Wow, this fandom is very frustrating, and rife with ableism, racism, etc., so how do we fix this???”—mindset, and I wanted to share my opinions, sure! but I also thought I was sharing them with 15-20 like-minded people.

Now, intent is not impact, and I recognise that I was brusque, didn’t phrase things particularly sensitively, and absolutely did hurt some people by criticising the fandom so freely. I still regret this—and I regret just as much the fact that some assholes have used my criticising the fandom on my own blog as implicit justification for attacking authors. I have said on here many times that I don’t condone that behaviour—but I also think there’s some truth in the presumption that these anonymous malcontents felt my critiques somehow ‘permitted’ them to engage in abuse. For the first few months, though, I genuinely had no idea there was a link at all—and so I was initially slow to condemn this abusive behaviour in public, because I was taking it for granted all authors agreed it was shitty. It took someone directly telling me (shoutout to @a-froger-epic) that people had identified a connection between my posts and the anons, before everything fell into place.

I would like to offer my apologies to the fandom at large for not being more quick on the uptake about this, because I feel that had I realised sooner that these people were taking ‘inspiration’ in some way from me, it might have been easier to put a stop to it. It does seem that there is still a lot of confusion about whether I support them and which of their views I agree with. Let’s be 100% clear on this: I do not support the anonymous commenters on AO3. At times there is some, limited overlap between parts of their views and parts of mine, but even that is less than you may think—I often see anonymous comments from so-called ‘Freddie fans’ that I substantially disagree with.

Perhaps even more importantly: I do not support anyone who sends anonymous hate on Tumblr.

What’s all this about ‘overlap’ with the anons?

Let’s do a mini-summary of the myths vs. the truth. There are views I hold which are genuinely unpopular in the fandom—but which I own up to completely, and have never tried to hide in any way. I’ve never needed to use anonymous to share my opinions because I’m completely open about them! What people who don’t know me tend to have ‘heard’ about me, though, is usually a drastic distortion of my real opinions.

What people think I think:

- Freddie should never top.

- It’s okay to send anon hate if someone writes Freddie ‘wrong’.

- It’s more important to correct ‘wrong’ portrayals than to respect other writers.

- It’s inherently wrong to be more interested in band pairings than canon pairings.

- Freddie should be overtly written as a r*pe survivor/victim (and not doing this is wrong).

- Freddie should be overtly written as having an eating disorder (and not doing this is wrong).

- Kink fics are wrong.

What I actually think:

- I believe Freddie did have a strongly defined sexual identity with marked preferences, but I don’t think Jim Hutton lied when he said that Freddie topped. I believe Freddie did top, but this isn’t the time or place to get into my thoughts on why/when/how much. I do believe that my analysis of the sources relevant to this subject is as historically accurate as one can reasonably be in matters of sex (where historical accuracy will always be particularly limited and imperfect)—but I don’t think it’s morally wrong to write Freddie as topping more than he probably did.

- I don’t believe there’s only one ‘right’ version of Freddie (all others being ‘wrong’). I do believe it is possible to be more right or less right—but I’m also conscious of the fact that this scale of value is not one by which everyone measures fanfiction. As a result, then, I don’t think that any perceptions surrounding ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ justify sending anonymous, non-constructive criticism, or outright hate.

- I do believe constructive criticism is a good thing. I welcome and appreciate it myself; I have received it on my fics in Queen fandom, and it has made them better. I have been in writing workshops which included very forceful criticisms, and the value of such feedback has been intimately and immediately part of my life as a writer for years. However: in this case, I have accepted that my opinion differs from the general community preference, and so I no longer offer any constructive criticism (outside private beta-reading). I haven’t changed my view, but I’ve changed my practice to align with community norms.

- I do not think any single, individual writer has a personal responsibility to write about Freddie Mercury in any given way. That ranges from including the more distressing topics to which I’ve devoted attention (such as trauma)—to concentrating on ‘canon’ pairings like Jimercury—to, even, focusing on Freddie at all.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you, @freddieofhearts,” you might be thinking. And I know it doesn’t; I think something I’ve done a poor job of articulating is the difference between how I view each individual fan—namely, as free to shape their creative experience at will, even in ways that I might find distressing or offensive; even in ways that you might find distressing or offensive—and the way I view the Collective. I think people have interpreted some of my critiques of ‘Queen Fandom’ as meaning something like: “You-in-particular, a specific Queen fan, are doing it wrong and should change everything about how you do it; also you don’t really care about Freddie.”

And—that’s not it. What any given fan, as an individual, does, isn’t a problem. And that can be true alongside—concurrently with—a multivalent critique of how the fandom is lacking in representation of Freddie’s life, with all that that (wonderful, deservedly celebrated, but also profoundly traumatic) life entailed. I still hold that view; I still have myriad problems with ‘the fandom’ (structurally, collectively, historically and presently—from the 1990s to the 2020s). Some of what I want to work on (away from the social life of fandom) is expressing those critiques with greater nuance, in ways that can’t be misinterpreted as shading any particular fanfiction author or subgenre of story.

In brief: I haven’t changed my mind, but I think Tumblr is an untenable environment in which to discuss the things I want to analyse, especially as there is an ever-present danger of hurting someone.

Can we keep in touch? Where is the fic?

I will drop by this account periodically to check out posts that friends have sent me, so you can always sent me a private message to ask for my contact details on the other app that I’m using now for fandom friends. Multiple Freddie conversations and projects are going on over there, off-Tumblr, with a much ‘gentler’ environment and no bad actors—I personally love it!

All my fic has been downloaded and saved. I don’t want to deal with constant harassment on AO3, but I’m happy to share a copy with anyone who missed it and wants to read/re-read something. I also saved everyone’s lovely comments and thoughtful con-crit, so none of that has been lost or erased.

Thank you to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom, made me think, taught me, shared with me, sent me into fits of the giggles, collaborated with me creatively, and otherwise made this one hell of a ride! Love you all. ❤️

#au revoir my dears #lil gay bby

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isolavirtuosa · 4 years

Text

U-Turn

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Started out as a short story exploring Reason #837 why Naruto and Sasuke didn’t get together in canon, Naruto is STRAIGHT!, but then it became this.

U-Turn

Isola Virtuosa

- 10 -

I didn’t even know that they had reached a verdict in Sasuke’s trial when I opened my door to find him standing there.

“But… how…?” I trailed off, staring at what must have been a mirage.

“They released me,” he said with a shrug.

I felt my mouth fall open, but no words came out.

“Can I come in?” he asked irritably.

“I, uh, yeah, of course, of course,” I said, standing aside.

He pushed past me, kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for the living room. He closed the curtains with a harsh tug, his eyes stuck in a seemingly permanent squint. I had fought with Kakashi for hours over how keeping him blindfolded wasn’t right, because something about light deprivation that Sakura had painstakingly explained to me but I just couldn’t remember.

No one listened to me about anything.

I’d also been removed from the proceedings for being too ‘emotional’ and ‘disruptive’.

And now it was all over, and Sasuke was here.

He sat on the couch, an arm tossed over his eyes like it was still too bright for him here in the dark.

I felt myself drawn to him. I moved slowly, letting him feel me coming before I leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped both arms around him, stub and all.

He breathed out heavily.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said quietly, leaning in closer and pressing my cheek to his.

He swallowed. “I…” he started to say, and stopped, his arm dropping from his eyes as he leaned back into me.

I couldn’t help but grin, squeezing him tightly.

Sasuke’s eyes met mine and his cheeks flushed. “Enough,” he muttered.

I bumped my forehead to his, then backed away. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Oh, you know what, we should have a party! We could get everyone together and-”

“No.”

“Whaaaat?” I protested, climbing over the back of the couch and sitting next to him. “But you’ve been in prison for like months, and you’re finally free and you can do all the things that you missed out on!”

“I didn’t miss out on anything,” he said flatly.

“But everyone-”

“My head hurts and I just want to be here with you, okay?”

“I, uh, yeah, I mean… yeah, okay,” I said, not sure how to take that, but overall feeling happy. I just felt right when Sasuke was next to me.

We were both quiet, but it didn’t feel strained. Since the Valley of the End, our relationship had gotten easy. Late night talks in the hospital faded into daily visits to his holding cell. We’d probably spent more quality time together in the last year than we had in total the rest of our lives.

“You can finish that book,” he finally said, eyes closed and his head leaned back.

“Ah-HA, so you do like it,” I said, grinning. I had been reading Sasuke an assortment of books during his blind imprisonment, and the latest had been what I had assumed to be a cheesy teen romance recommended by Sakura, but had ended up being a really interesting mystery that also happened to have a surprisingly engaging romantic plot.

“It’s fine,” he said with a shrug, because Sasuke could never say anything nice about anything or anyone.

I bounded off to my room to pull the book from my ‘prison visit bag’ that I suddenly realized I wouldn’t need anymore. I grinned, coming back to flop on the couch and cracking the book open to start reading. I realized it was too dark to read, so I flipped on the table lamp.

Sasuke kept his eyes closed, but his posture seemed to relax the longer I read.

I found my eyes darting over the book to watch him, so close I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. Sasuke was really here, and I could feel myself smiling stupidly.

I tried to focus on reading, but I was starting to spend more time staring, and Sasuke finally caught on, eyes drifting open to meet mine.

Those eyes were mesmerizing.

“You stopped reading,” he observed drily.

“Nuh-uh,” I said.

His lips quirked into a crooked smile. “You definitely did.”

“You stopped reading!” I declared.

The smile evened out, soft and secretive. “Idiot. Pick up where you left off.”

“Who is the idiot here?” I grumbled. Then I startled as I felt a squeeze around my hand.

Sasuke’s eyes were closed again. “I like hearing your voice,” he said quietly, already reclaiming his hand like he hadn’t just reached out.

I swallowed. It was one thing to have the new-and-improved, vulnerable and now-fifty-percent-more-honest Sasuke in front of me but out of my reach due to a set of iron bars. It was quite another to have him sitting on my couch. I wanted to move heaven and earth for him, but I settled for reading him some fiction instead.

We finished the book.

Sasuke slowly unsank from the couch, eyes blinking open. “Thanks,” he said, standing up and stretching. His nub of a left arm barely reached over his head.

“Anything for my felon best friend,” I said, standing up, too, since that seemed to be what we were doing. “Are you hungry? You sure you don’t want to see anyone else?”

“God, no,” he said, which I assumed was his reply to the second question. He did look a little thin, though. “I just don’t want to think for a while, okay?”

“How does one not think?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I just watch you and do whatever you’re doing.”

“Jerk,” I said, giving him a playful shove.

He definitely looked like he wanted to shove me back, but he somehow restrained himself. “Naruto.”

“Yes?” I said, standing at attention.

“I know you said I could stay if I got out…”

“When you got out,” I corrected him.

He half-smiled at that. When had he started doing that? I hoped Sakura didn’t see because she claimed to be over him and didn’t need to be having any relapses. “Yes, well, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” I agreed.

“You don’t have to feel obligated.”

“I don’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Naruto.”

“Sasuke.”

He looked at me.

“I want you here,” I said. “I need you here,” I correct myself.

“Lame,” he muttered, but there was that crooked half-smile again.

“Stay as long as you need,” I said firmly.

And he did.

- 9 -

Sasuke was simultaneously an amazing and terrible house guest.

He was always picking up after me, which made my apartment really clean, but also resulted in me never knowing where anything was.

He also cooked for me, which was delicious and nutritious, but the lack of cup noodles was a little depressing.

He was always there for me to come home to, but I knew he was there because he had nowhere else to go, and I knew he wasn’t happy here.

It had been almost five months now, and when I came clomping through the door, Sasuke already had dinner on the table.

“Hi, honey, I’m home!” I chirped, snagging a piece of fried chicken from the table and munching on it as I moved towards my room to dump my bag.

“Wash your hands,” Sasuke grumbled after me.

I was starting to think that living with Sasuke was probably what having a mother would be like, if said mother low-key couldn’t stand me.

“I don’t hear running water!” he yelled when I had dallied too long.

“Yeah, and I’m touching everything I possibly can!” I yelled back. We did enjoy pissing each other off.

Sasuke was scowling at his rice bowl when I came back.

“All nice and clean,” I said, waggling my fingers at him. The fingers of the prosthetic were a little stiff as I did so, but Tsunade said the arm would start to feel more natural eventually.

“You’re a pig,” he muttered, picking up the bowl and starting to eat.

“Yep” I agreed, picking up my own bowl and shoveling in as much food as could fit in my mouth.

He sneered at me.

I grinned.

There was the smallest uptick at the corner of his mouth.

I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, so I focused on eating instead.

“I’ve got a place,” he said suddenly.

I opened my mouth to protest, but it was stuffed with food.

“Disgusting,” he growled at me.

I informed him that he shouldn’t just spring stuff on me while I was eating, but I don’t think he understood a word of it.

Or he was just pretending not to understand.

I swallowed the last of the food in my mouth as loudly and dramatically as possible. “I told you that you can just stay here.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we’re best friends!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, seeming to actually be getting annoyed now.

“Uhhh, because best friends being roommates is awesome?” I said.

That seemed to irritate him even more. “I’m not really interested in being your live-in butler.”

“You’re not-” I started to say, but that was actually pretty accurate.

“Realized the truth, then?”

“It’s not like I asked you to do all this stuff for me!” I protested.

“It’s just that you’re a lazy, pathetic slob, and I have no choice as long as I’m here if I want to maintain my personal dignity?”

“You’re an asshole,” I complained.

“Naruto, really, really think hard about who the asshole is in this situation.”

I thought about it really, really hard. “Shit, is it me?”

Sasuke swallowed down a smile.

His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, so I leaned into his vision.

The whole smile came out, lighting up his face.

“Why are you so good-looking?” I complained.

He quickly looked away again. “Jealous?” he muttered.

“Yes!” I exclaimed.

“Good,” he grumbled.

“Sasuke, don’t go.”

“I already put down my first month’s rent.”

“Why would you go and do that?!” I cried.

“You’re a big boy, Naruto,” he said, looking down his nose at me. “I’m sure you can live by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” I said. “I like living with you, even if you’re a nag.”

‘A nag?’ he mouthed at me.

“I mean, you’re super uptight and obsessive combustive or whatever, but you’re pretty alright sometimes,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“You’re ridiculous,” he informed me, going back to eating like the conversation was over.

And it was.

He moved out the next day.

“This is dumb,” I told him as I dumped the one and only box of things he had from my apartment on the floor of his new place.

“You’re dumb,” he answered easily.

“You don’t even have any pots and pans!” I said, gesturing around. “How are you going to eat?”

“You have literally one pot, Uzumaki,” he said, shaking his head.

“I have TWO!” I yelled.

“I don’t count the rusty one.”

“Why not?”

“How have you survived this long living on your own?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Very well, thank you!” I snapped.

“Naruto,” he said, shaking his head harder.

It always gave me a strange thrill when he said my name.

Somehow we ended up getting take out, sitting on the floor of Sasuke’s semi-furnished apartment and passing a bottle of cheap wine between us that Kakashi had given Sasuke as a housewarming gift.

It got late and the bottle got empty, so I made myself at home on Sasuke’s futon.

“Why are we still living together?” he complained, nudging me with his foot to get me to slide over onto the second futon that he set out. “I specifically moved out so we wouldn’t be living together anymore.”

“I like living with you,” I whined, kicking my feet around to show my protest.

“You’re a child,” Sasuke said, throwing a blanket over me and getting into his own futon.

“Sasukeeee,” I complained, creeping over to him and snuggling in close.

“Knock it off,” he muttered, turning his face from me.

“Jerk,” I said, closing my eyes and starting to drift. It was possible that I was mildly intoxicated.

“Naruto, move,” Sasuke said, startling me awake as he pushed me away.

“Neveeeeeer,” I complained, attaching myself onto him tightly.

His face whipped around to glare at me, and then our faces were just right there in front of each other, millimeters apart. Whatever he was going to snap at me died on his lips.

I snorted at that. If he could only see his face. He looked so uncool at that moment, and it was a memory I wanted to treasure forever. I leaned in closer, feeling the heated skin of his forehead against mine.

Sasuke’s breath caught and his eyes locked onto mine. There was something… hopeful… in his eyes.

I could feel myself going soft, reaching out my hand to rest against his cheek.

Then he pressed his lips to mine, warm and gentle.

It was just a brief touch and then it was over.

I shook my head at him, smiling.

It was like a signal, and suddenly his lips were back and it was much more than a simple touch, it was full of need and want and other nameless things, and what had I just done?

“Sasuke,” I said gently.

His mouth paused against mine.

“Sas’, I’m not gay,” I said, stroking his cheek with my thumb.

He stared at me.

I stared back evenly, trying to convey with my eyes that I was unbothered by this turn of events and still loved him like a brother.

He seemed to get the message, and he seemed to not like it very much, shoving me away and moving to make a run for it.

“Sasuke,” I repeated, grabbing his arm.

He turned back to look at me.

“It’s not a big deal,” I told him.

Something broke behind his eyes.

I realized that that had been the completely wrong thing to say.

He snatched his arm out of my grip and stormed out of the room.

“Sas’, come on,” I called, chasing after him. “This is your house, where are you going anyway?”

“Away from you!” he snapped, finally speaking for the first time.

“Okay, but… this is your house?” I tried again.

“Just fuck off, Naruto,” he said, and I could hear all the cracks in his voice.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I was definitely awake and sober now. What had I done? What had I done? Oh shit.

“Go,” he said, his voice getting smaller and smaller. “Please just go.”

“Sasuke,” I tried one more time.

He was standing in front of the kitchen sink, his back to me, unmoving.

“This doesn’t change anything…” I tried, wondering if I was cutting him with every word. “You’re my best friend. I don’t care if-”

“Go,” he growled, strength returning to his voice even as his shoulders seemed to be shaking.

“I’m going,” I said, backing my way towards the door. “I’m going, okay? I just want it to be clear that I don’t actually want to go and am only doing so because you asked me to.”

He didn’t say anything else.

There was nothing for me to do but leave.

- 8 -

“Naruto, no,” Sakura said, shaking her head. “No, no, no, you did not leave him like that.”

“What else was I supposed to do?!” I cried, knocking my heels anxiously against the counter that I was sitting on.

“Anything!” she cried exasperatedly. “Just don’t leave!”

“Well I did leave, and that’s where I’m at, so can you please give me some advice?”

Sakura sighed loudly and dropped herself onto one of her kitchen chairs. “Naruto.”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re not gay?”

I looked at her. I hesitated.

Her expression perked up at that.

“I’m not gay,” I said quickly before she could get too excited. “I definitely like girls.”

“Okay, but you could be bi,” she pointed out.

“I don’t like guys,” I said with a shrug.

“Okay, but you like Sasuke.”

I let her words sit between us for a moment. “I can’t say clearly that I… I don’t know. As you love to point out, I talk about Sasuke all the time, I think about him all the time-”

“He’s basically your reason for existence.”

“…that’s fair.”

She smiled at that.

“Like, I get all that,” I said. “I get that our relationship isn’t normal. But there’s no… spark?”

“You two literally set each other on fire,” Sakura said, not buying it.

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, shaking my head. “But when he kissed me, it was warm and it was nice and all, but there was no spark. It wasn’t… I don’t know. If I was in love with him, wouldn’t I have felt something… more?”

“So what you’re saying, if I am getting this correctly, is that the warm, nice feelings that Sasuke gives you are nothing compared to the cheap sparks you feel with all your floozies?” Sakura asked, giving me an unfriendly look.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” I grumbled, glaring at her.

“Interesting how you started going on all these dates after Sasuke came to live with you,” she commented.

“Interesting how?”

She shrugged.

“After the trial was finally over, maybe that was the first time in my life that I had time to put myself first,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and daring her to find fault with me just living my life for once.

“I…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “We all want you to be happy, Naruto. But really? Those underclassman girls? Couldn’t you find someone… better?”

“What’s wrong with them?!” I cried.

“They don’t have any… substance,” Sakura said. “They just like you because you’re the hero of Konoha; they don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s why we go on dates to get to know each other,” I explained to her.

“There are plenty of girls our age who like you, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but…” I trailed off. I didn’t know how to explain it without Sakura hitting me.

Her look turned suspicious.

“I just… need something different,” I said with a shrug. “I need… a break? I guess? Sometimes it’s nice to be around people who didn’t go through what we went through?”

Sakura was suddenly up on her feet and moving towards me.

I flinched.

“I’m not going to hit you, jerk,” she complained, punching me in the arm anyway.

I cringed, rubbing at the spot she’d hit.

“You want to be normal,” she said, her voice gentler now. “I get that. I do. Everything that’s happened the last few years… And then it seemed like things were finally going to get better and all that stuff with Sasuke being arrested happened…”

We were both quiet at that. Sasuke’s arrest and confinement had been a sobering reminder that things were not right with the village. When I thought about how Sasuke had been mistreated, tortured even, and had just endured it so he could stay…

Everything always came back to Sasuke.

“You really aren’t gay?” Sakura asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“I’m not gay,” I affirmed.

“What are you going to do?”

“I came here to ask you that!” I cried.

“You’re the Sasuke-whisperer,” she said, shaking her head. “All I ever seem to do is make him annoyed.”

“The Sasuke-whisperer?” I repeated incredulously.

“He listens to you, even if he belittles you the whole while,” she said with a smile. Then her face went serious. “He loves you.”

That was a heavy word to throw into the conversation.

I dropped my head in my hands and yelled my frustration, kicking my feet anxiously against the cabinets.

Sakura rested her hand on my head, calming and soothing.

“His face…” I mumbled.

“What are you going on about?” Sakura asked.

I finally sat up properly and looked at her. “His face when I rejected him… I hurt him. I really, really hurt him, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“He does have his pride.”

“Ughhh don’t remind me.”

“Just be your usual jackass self, and I’m sure things will go back to normal eventually,” she said, patting me on the head.

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” she said, climbing onto the counter and sitting next to me.

I leaned my head against hers, kicking my feet absently.

“It really doesn’t bother you, though?” she asked quietly.

“What?”

“That he likes you.”

“…no…?”

“It can be stressful on a friendship,” she said carefully.

“Are you trying to say something about my childish crush on you?”

“More about my childish crush on Sasuke, but that, too,” she agreed. “You could be so annoying, and it was uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” I said, tapping her knee lightly. “I know. But it’s not like Sasuke’s anything like me, yeah? I mean, I act more like I have a crush on him than he acts like he has a crush on me.”

“That’s for sure,” Sakura snorted. “You really do. But I see it in him, you know? He’s just different with you. I think you don’t always notice, because how he acts when you’re around and how he acts when you’re not are completely different.”

“What, does he suddenly become a nice and charming guy?” I asked with my own snort.

She shook her head. “He’s… softer when he’s with you. He smiles more. His shoulders relax. When you two fight, he gets this wrinkle between his brows, and he finally looks young, he finally looks like the teenager he’s supposed to be. But when you’re not around, he’s just dark and… hard to approach. He has this impenetrable armor up that only comes down around you.”

I squinted at her. “And you don’t still have a crush on him, right?”

“What do you care?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Well you just seem to have put a lot of time and effort into your observations…”

“Don’t you keep like a diary about your Sasuke observations…?”

“That was for the trial!” I cried.

Sakura laughed.

I tried to laugh, but I felt tired and defeated. “Did I lead him on?”

“Yes,” she said flatly.

“Crap.”

“It’ll work out,” she assured me.

It didn’t work out.

- 7 -

It felt like we were twelve again.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sasuke scoffed at me as he easily dodged my attack.

“It’s not even half of what I’ve got!” I roared as I chased after him.

He stopped mid-step, spinning around effortlessly and putting his sword to my neck.

I jerked myself back, leaning away from the glittering steel.

“Pathetic.”

“Is it?” I asked, my clone suddenly attacking from above.

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, taking his sword from my neck to slice through my clone.

It gave me the time to dive-bomb his legs.

Sasuke let out a grunt as we hit the ground, then took advantage of our momentum to flip me onto my back.

I got a foot free and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards.

Unfortunately, he had a grip on my leg, and I went flying with him.

We were a mess of fists and kicks and pain and blood, and I wasn’t quite sure when this training session had turned into a street brawl.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sakura asked exasperatedly as she patched us up at the clinic.

“We were training,” Sasuke said, a sullen look on his face as he held a cold compress to his black eye.

“Is that what you call it?” she muttered, slathering the antibacterial ointment on my gaping sword wound with a little more roughness than seemed necessary.

“Owwww…” I whined.

She smacked me upside the head.

“You’re the worst doctor ever!” I cried.

“And you two are the worst patients!” she snapped back. “Why are you wasting my time with this juvenile nonsense?”

“We were training!” I protested.

“This is not normal training!” she yelled, smacking me again.

I stuck out my lower lip at her, rubbing my head.

“And don’t think I only blame this on the dumb blond!” Sakura said, turning her fury on Sasuke. “What were you thinking, using your sword on his prosthetic?! There could be permanent damage!”

Sasuke glared at her but didn’t speak.

“You’re being a child,” Sakura said, eyes locking with his.

Sasuke’s expression immediately transformed into rage, and I took a step back.

Sakura just raised an eyebrow. She had really grown in the last year and a half, and I was very impressed by it, which was the reason I was letting her stand between Sasuke and I now.

It wasn’t because I was hiding.

“Naruto, just go,” Sakura said irritably, gesturing me towards the door.

I glanced at Sasuke, but his gaze was still fixed on Sakura. “Are you-?” I started to ask.

“Go!” they both snapped at me.

So I left.

Things between Sasuke and I hadn’t been right since the night he moved out. Since he… you know. And now he was saying that as soon as his probation was over, he was going to leave the village.

It was all so stupid. I didn’t understand why things couldn’t go back to how they were before. Well, I mean like how they were after the war, not to how things were when we couldn’t be honest with each other and just fought all the time instead, which was basically the same as things were now.

“What happened to you?!”

I slid into the booth across from my girlfriend Moe, grinning sheepishly. “Training.”

“I’ve never had a training session like that,” she said with a laugh. She laughed a lot, smiled easily, and was in general a pleasant, happy person to be around.

‘Easy to be happy when there’s nothing between the ears,’ Sakura had been known to say.

I mostly ignored her snide little comments.

“Oh, the stupidest thing happened on our mission today,” she said, still smiling.

I felt myself smiling for some reason. All the heaviness I’d been feeling all day suddenly seemed to drop away. I leaned in closer, and listened intently to her story.

- 6 -

“I don’t agree to this,” I grumbled, slumping into Sasuke’s couch.

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you, then,” he replied, putting down a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

I reached for it, stuffing the popcorn into my face as angrily as I could. “It has everything to do with me!” I yelled with a full mouth.

“You are disgusting,” he informed me, giving me a light shove. “Move over.”

“There’s plenty of room,” I complained, gesturing to the open space next to me.

“Why do you always have to sit in the middle?” he asked irritably. He gave me another shove. “Sit next to the armrest like a normal person.”

“Oh, I’m a normal person now?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Because you keep telling me how weird and crazy I am for not wanting you to leave.”

“Because you are weird and crazy,” he said, sitting as close to the armrest as he could, which subsequently meant he was sitting as far away from me as possible.

“In what way am I either of those things?!” I demanded.

“You know what the village did to me,” he said, his voice low and dark.

I stopped at that. We were being serious now, no more play-fighting. “I know.” “Nothing has changed, Naruto.”

“No,” I agreed quietly. “But I’m trying.”

“You’re one man.”

“Sometimes I’m a hundred men.”

He gave me a withering look.

I reached for him then, my hand resting on his shoulder as I sought out a physical connection. “Everything that’s happened… it’s never going to happen to anyone ever again.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, looking unimpressed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice cracking.

Sasuke softened. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“You’re blaming yourself for something you fought tooth and nail against.”

“I couldn’t stop them.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what?” I asked, starting to feel blubbery. I always felt so frustrated and helpless thinking about what had happened to Sasuke and how I hadn’t been able to stop it.

“If you couldn’t stop them, then no one can,” he said. “Konoha won’t change, so give up and move on. Now can we watch this damn movie already?”

If I wanted to continue the tentative peace that we’d developed over the last couple of months, then I would back off and watch the movie.

“We have to be the ones who start the change,” I said, still holding onto his shoulder and staring him down. “I need you here with me, fighting the Council, fighting all the backwards-thinking clan leaders, fighting-”

“-the hokage?” Sasuke suggested, raising an eyebrow.

I took in a breath and let it out slowly. “Baa-chan is doing what she can-”

“She approved the terms of my surrender.”

“You approved the terms of your surrender.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t agree to abuse and torture.”

“She didn’t… know…”

“The beatings, sure, even you didn’t know, and you were there to see me every day,” he said, meeting my gaze calmly. “But the constant blindfolding and the binding… you fought about it with Kakashi. He had to be reporting to her.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, feeling my heart break all over again.

“All of that doesn’t matter,” he said, pushing me back into my seat. He stood up and pressed the tape into the VCR. “Ninety-eight more days and I get what I wanted.”

“…I wish you’d told me.”

“Because you were making so much headway on the blindfolding issue.”

“Yeah, but that guard…”

“And what did you do when I told you?”

I flushed. Maybe I had rushed off to the prison in a blind rage and had only come back to my senses when the guard was lying bleeding on the floor while a hysterical Sakura held me back.

“You can’t be so emotional, Naruto,” he chided me, adjusting the volume of the TV as the coming attractions played. “I was never in any danger-”

“He beat you for no reason-”

“He was scared of me,” Sasuke said with an easy shrug. “And for good reason. He could cover my eyes as much as he wanted; I could have broken out and broken him any time I wanted.”

“You didn’t have to endure all that.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did it for you, you dumbass,” he said, staring very pointedly at the TV.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, feeling weirdly happy while also simultaneously pissed off.

“You’re so ignorant,” he muttered.

“Use your words,” I complained, giving him a shove.

“Use your brain,” he shot back, giving me a return shove.

This was about to dissolve into more schoolyard brawling, which I thought we had moved past, but clearly we had not. “Just explain it to me,” I said, the grip I hadn’t even realized I had on his collar loosening. “Since I’m so dumb and all.”

“You are dumb,” he agreed, his own grip relaxing.

The movie started playing, but it was just background noise now.

“You can’t be associated with a missing nin,” he finally said.

“Why not?” I asked, leaning back against the couch.

He clearly wanted to say something cutting but swallowed it back down. “I’m not going to take your future away from you,” he said, the words straining to come out.

“How-?” I started to ask.

Sasuke made a very frustrated-sounding noise. “Stop asking questions. What are you not getting? You following a missing nin around like a lost fucking puppy does not exactly instill the Council with trust in your ability to lead. So I did my fucking best to be reinstated to this bullshit village that murdered my family just so you could stop fucking up your future, and then you fucking go and still fuck it up anyway by losing your shit on that guard. You’re right, me enduring all of that really was pointless and I should have just…” he trailed off, running out of steam.

“Wait, wait, you did all this just so I could be hokage?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck.

“Go die,” he muttered.

“You are the most awful human being I have ever met,” I informed him. “Sas’, I… I mean, I don’t get it. You have so much pride, and I can’t imagine you… He hit you! He left marks on you, and you’re saying that you just put up with it so I could hypothetically be the leader of the village you hate one day?”

“I need you to be the hokage,” he said, his voice so soft it was hard to hear.

“Why?” I asked, inching closer and trying to get him to meet my eyes.

“Can you just drop it?” he asked, skillfully avoiding my gaze.

“No.”

He took in a breath and let it out loudly,

I put my hand on his knee, fingers curling into the loose fabric of his pants. “Why do you need me to be the hokage, Sas’?” I pleaded.

His eyes slid shut, a worry line forming between them. “Why can’t you just let things go?”

“Because when you keep secrets from me, our relationship gets all messed up,” I said.

“It’s not a damn secret, you’re just incapable of connecting the dots.”

“Well if it’s something I’m apparently too dumb to understand without further explanation, then you are keeping it from me by not explaining.”

Air escaped from his nose in what was either a smothered laugh or an exasperated sigh.

“Naruto…”

My breath caught a little. Sasuke just had a way of saying my name.

“You’re the only one I trust, okay?” he said, eyes flicking to mine and then flicking away again. “You’re the only one who can fix everything.”

“…but you’re always telling me I can’t change anything…”

“You are very, very incompetent,” he agreed, that sideways half-smile making a reappearance on his lips. “But I… I told you. At the Valley of the End. It was my loss. I’ve thrown away my revenge to follow you.”

“You don’t… follow me in anything…” I said, not sure why my face was suddenly heating up.

“I’m not going to be one of your mindless sycophants and just agree with whatever you say and do,” he said. “And I don’t think you want me to. You know you only reach your highest potential when I’m challenging you on everything.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, squeezing his knee. “So why are you leaving then?”

“It’s what’s best.”

“Well I don’t think it’s what’s best, so…”

“Naruto,” he said, eyes finally meeting mine without running away. “If you…” he paused, licking his lips like he was nervous. “If you really… if you ask me not to leave, then I won’t leave. I’ll listen to you and I’ll follow you, but… if you keep me here, I don’t think I can… I feel trapped, Naruto. It’s painful to be here.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, and it made my stomach knot up.

“I didn’t want to tell you all this because now you know how much power you have over me,” he said, his hand pushing against mine like he wanted me to move it, but then his fingers laced into mine. “I don’t show my weaknesses to anyone, and I feel… exposed. But I trust you with that. Do you understand me? I’m trusting you not to exploit this. I’m trusting you to do the right thing. Because if you don’t, then you’re just showing me that I was wrong and that you’re just like everyone else.”

Vulnerable Sasuke was the most cutting Sasuke. “Sneaky bastard,” I muttered, because how could I ever ask him to stay after he said all that.

“Do you understand everything now?” he asked, taking his hand back and looking away.

“No, not at all,” I said. “But I guess I get the important stuff.”

“Good. So what the hell has been happening in this movie?”

I laughed. “Rewind it.”

He got up and hit the rewind button.

“Sas’?”

“Yeah?” he asked, his back still to me as he crouched in front of the VCR.

“What if I don’t want to be hokage?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“What if I don’t want to be, and I want to go with you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he repeated.

I sighed loudly. “Fine.”

The tape finished rewinding and Sasuke hit play, coming back to sit next to me. He rested his head against the back of the couch, then turned to look at me.

I turned to look at him, too.

He smiled at me, soft and sweet and a little sad.

My lips parted.

He sat back up straight, attention focusing on the TV.

We watched the movie.

- 5 -

Sasuke was annoyed.

Of course, he was always annoyed when he was in Konoha, and he had to check in every six months, which meant that twice a year, Sasuke was very annoyed.

He was annoyed a lot of other times throughout the year, too, but he was particularly annoyed now.

“If you want to go and breed with your female, then just go,” he grumbled at me.

“Did you really just say ‘breed’?” Ino repeated, cracking up.

“Don’t forget ‘your female’,” Sakura chimed in, and the two of them started laughing harder.

“Hey, nothing is more important than spending time with you,” I slurred, significantly inebriated.

Rino waved at us from across the bar where she was getting more alcohol to inebriate us farther. Her boobs jiggled in her low-cut top as she did so.

I smiled dreamily.

“At least she’s a chuunin this time,” Sakura muttered, losing her amusement at the sight of a young, attractive female.

I suddenly found myself being punched in the arm. “What the hell!”

Sakura glared at me.

“You said that out loud,” Sasuke whispered to me.

“Oh…” I said. “Oops.”

Sasuke smiled at that, making me feel warm and happy.

All I had to do was act like an idiot to make him smile that amazing smile.

He looked away, flushing.

“You said that out loud, too,” Ino said, laughing.

“Umm, maybe I’m too drunk for this bar…” I trailed off as Rino reappeared with our drinks. “Thanks, babe,” I said, taking a beer from her.

She grinned at me as she passed out the rest of the drinks.

“Maybe it’s time to head home,” Sakura suggested, having finished her entire drink in one go.

“Aw, what, no way…” I complained.

“Sasuke seems tired,” Ino said.

If I wasn’t mistaken, Sasuke was shooting her a grateful look. But that was ridiculous, because Sasuke only liked me.

“People are allowed to like more than one person,” Ino informed me. “And I am very likeable.”

“Not that much,” Sasuke said, taking a casual sip of his drink.

Ino’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “To think I was going to save you from-” she started to say, but stopped.

Sasuke and Ino seemed to be having a conversation with eyes and head tilts that was completely unreadable to me.

“What’s going on?” Rino whispered to me.

“I have no idea,” I whispered back, sliding an arm around her waist.

She smiled at that, pressing closer to me even though our chairs were already plenty close together.

All of the sudden the other three were standing up.

“Okay, we’ll see you later,” Sakura said, patting me on the arm.

“Bye, ‘kura,” I said. “Bye, Ino.”

Sasuke moved to walk past me.

I caught his arm.

He looked startled, which couldn’t possibly be, because Uchiha Sasuke was never startled.

“We’re training tomorrow, yeah?”

“If you can find your way to the training field,” he said with a shrug.

“Your ass is mine, Uchiha,” I said cheerfully.

Sasuke just frowned at that, shaking me off. “Tomorrow then.”

“Bye, Sasuke,” Rino said, waving to him with a friendly smile.

He inclined his head towards her and made his exit.

Rino giggled. “He lives up to all the rumors.”

“What kinda rumors?” I asked, trying to narrow my eyes but it felt more like I was going cross-eyed.

“That he’s mysterious and hot,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, relaxing. “Yeah, he is definitely those rumors.”

Rino laughed.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested, and she nodded happily, linking arms with me.

We stumbled along to my house, and I somehow managed to get the door open and get us inside.

“You’re drunk,” Rino teased.

“Drunk on you,” I said, leading her to my room.

It felt different than usual.

I couldn’t stop myself, pushing her onto her stomach and staring at the white skin of her back.

“Naruto!”

I was lost, moving like an animal.

“Naruto!”

“Sasuke!”

- 4 -

“So you’re definitely not gay?” Sakura asked.

“I’m not,” I confirmed, pacing around my kitchen.

“Okay, but you called out your male best friend’s name during sex, so…”

“I don’t know why that happened.”

“Well, I mean, you were having sex, and you were thinking about Sasuke while you were having sex, so…”

“I’m not gay,” I said flatly.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I don’t like dicks,” I explained. “And I feel like liking dicks is a very important part of being gay.”

“I mean, it could be important, but I don’t think it’s the defining factor of whether or not a person is gay,” Sakura offered. “Do those cookies have peanut butter in them?”

“They do,” I confirmed, picking up the package from the shelf and handing it to her.

“How do you even know that you don’t like dicks?” Sakura continued. “Have you ever tried touching one that wasn’t your own?”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “No, thank you.”

“How do you know you don’t like it if you don’t try it?”

“Have you touched a dick that isn’t your own?” I shot back.

Sakura gave me a withering look.

“Well?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“A lady doesn’t stroke and tell,” she said with an enigmatic shrug.

“Sakuraaaaaa,” I groaned. “This isn’t helping.”

“There’s no help for you if you insist on staying so deeply closeted,” she replied.

“How do you just decide a person’s sexuality for them when they’re clearly telling you that you’re wrong about it?” I asked irritably.

“You’re in love with a man,” she ground out, just as irritably. “That, by definition, makes you gay.”

“I love him,” I said, waving her off. “That’s not the same as being in love.”

“Okay, then stop calling his name out during sex and everything will be fine.”

“…I was thinking about him…” I whispered.

She looked at me, waiting.

“…I was imagining it was him in front of me, and it just…” I trailed off. “I was drunk, it didn’t mean anything!”

“We are venturing into TMI territory here, but Naruto, you need to explain this to me,” she said, nibbling on a cookie. “Why were you thinking about Sasuke and not about your girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I really don’t. I mean, I really like Rino. She’s so nice and friendly, and she always smiles, and she’s really pretty…”

“Sounds like you’re describing me, but okay…”

“You in an alternative universe, maybe…”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“You’re very nice and friendly and pretty.”

“Thank you,” Sakura said, finishing off her cookie and pulling out another one. “I know you don’t want to hear this again-”

I groaned.

“-but you tend to date girls who don’t have a lot of substance,” she forged ahead. “And at first, it made sense because you were young and unattached…”

“I’m still both of those things…”

“Funny that you think so.”

“I am in the prime of my youth!”

“Uzumaki, you are twenty-five years old,” Sakura said, shaking her head. “Your dad was already the hokage and married with a baby on the way younger than that.”

“Like you’re dating anyone!” I cried. “I mean, who from our generation is even remotely on track to get married?!”

“And why is that?” Sakura asked, tilting her head to the side.

I looked at her.

She looked back at me.

Since the war, Sakura had been my best friend, despite me always giving the title to Sasuke. We told each other everything, whether it was easy to hear or not, and she had certainly dropped a lot of hard-to-hear truths on me over the years.

“Because we’re all traumatized from being child soldiers?” I asked.

She nodded at me.

“So I choose to date girls who I can’t form meaningful relationships with because I’m not ready to confront… something something,” I concluded.

“Close enough,” she said with a rueful smile. “I want you to be happy, you know.”

“I know,” I said, knowing better than to protest that I was happy. “I want you to be happy, too.”

“Maybe Sasuke isn’t so crazy…” she said quietly.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Maybe leaving the village…” she trailed off.

It wasn’t the first time we’d broached the topic, but we never saw it through.

“Baa-chan said the Council is thinking about making me hokage soon,” I said.

“She’s been saying that since the war ended,” Sakura said with a frown. She would always love Tsunade as much as I did, but we both knew that things weren’t right in the village. Kakashi tried to act as a go-between, but the more he asked us to compromise while literally nothing changed, the less we were inclined to.

We were both quiet.

“So your thing about dicks, is that because of the Kiba Incident?” Sakura finally asked.

“DON’T BRING THAT UP!” I shrieked.

“But I was thinking…”

“About Kiba’s dick?!”

“God, no,” Sakura said, making a face. “I was thinking about the time we were on a mission, and you were on watch while we were sleeping-”

“Sakura-chan, you stop right there.”

“-and you went to get Kiba for his watch, and he was in flagrante-”

“I told you to stop- wait, what is ‘foie gras day’?” I paused, scratching my head.

“Caught in the act, dick in hand-”

“OH MY GOD, SAKURA, STOP!” I cried, covering my eyes with my hands even though the vision was burned into my memory for the rest of time. “It was so red and angry…” I whispered.

Sakura made a face but laughed. “See, but what if it was Sasuke?”

“IT’S NO DIFFERENT!” I yelled.

“Really? ‘Cause I definitely don’t want to picture Kiba in your story, but if it were Sasuke-”

“Sakura-chan!” I cried, incensed. “Don’t sully our Sasuke like that.”

“He’s an emotionally stunted asshole, but he’s still eye candy,” Sakura said with a shrug.

“Okay, but you clearly like dicks,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“‘Like’ is a strong word,” she said, shaking her head. “I tolerate them.”

“Gross,” I muttered, and then unbidden the image of Kiba in the tent reappeared in my mind, only with Sasuke’s face floating over Kiba’s. I gagged. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“I don’t understand you,” Sakura said, shaking her head. “So if Sasuke was like in between your legs right now going down on you, you’d be absolutely disgusted just because he’s a guy?”

Sakura certainly painted a picture, because now there Sasuke was between my legs, mouth full, eyes creased in concentration before suddenly darting up to meet my gaze. He smirked, and I felt my entire body shudder.

“You got turned on!” Sakura accused me, pointing her finger.

“I… did…” I trailed off, thoroughly confused.

Her expression softened. “I’m not trying to push you into something,” she said, patting my head. “I just... I look at you two, and I wish that someone would love me the way you two love each other.”

“Sakura,” I complained, shaking my head. “You know I love you.”

“You wanna marry me?”

“Definitely not.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to marry Sasuke either,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but you want him to blow you.”

“Oh my god, Sakura, never say that out loud again!”

She shrugged.

“Sakura-chaaaaaaan,” I whined.

“I won’t,” she said, serious again. She hopped onto the counter and put her arm around me. “I won’t bring any of this up again, okay? I promise. We’ll only talk about it if you bring it up.”

“Which I won’t,” I said, but I could feel her side-eyeing me. “Unless I picture him in fois gras day again.”

Sakura cracked up.

- 3 -

I woke up on Sasuke’s floor, a blanket tossed over me. I groaned, sitting up and stretching my aching back. “Sas’?” I called.

He didn’t answer me because he was an asshole, but I could hear water running in the kitchen.

I stumbled to my feet and took a quick stop at the restroom before stumbling the rest of the way to the kitchen. “Saaaasukeeeeee,” I whined, dropping onto one of his kitchen chairs. “What did you make me drink last night?”

“Don’t blame me for your bad decisions,” he said with a shrug.

I squinted at his shirtless back, watching as he moved around preparing breakfast. “Hey, you,” I said.

“Hey what?” he asked, cracking an egg over the frying pan with one hand.

“When’d you get all… manly?” I complained.

“This might surprise you, but I’ve always been a man.”

“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head. “You were a boy before. You had some muscles and all, but not all this finely-chiseled definition. You look like a freaking statue that some old statue guy would make.”

“‘Old statue guy?’” he muttered incredulously, flipping the eggs.

“You know what I mean!” I said, flailing my arms around.

“No, not really.”

I sighed loudly. “I wish I looked like you.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Your body is amazing.”

“Are you fishing for compliments or something?” he mumbled.

“Huh?”

He stayed silent, his back rigid.

I had as usual stumbled into the ‘danger zone’.

I found myself stumbling into it more and more since the whole Wrong Name Incident. It wasn’t like I was trying to flirt with Sasuke all the time. It happened by accident. I was really just trying to give the guy a compliment and express my jealousy over the fact that his body was a work of art.

...was that gay…?

I stared at those rippling back muscles, mesmerized.

Then I was having eggs slammed down in front of me.

Sasuke sat across from me, stabbing his food with what seemed to be much more force than necessary for something that was already dead. “You’ve grown up, too, you know,” he finally mumbled.

“I have?” I asked with a mouth full of food.

“Swallow.”

I swallowed.

“I take it back,” he said, not looking at me.

“No takesy-backsies.”

“This is how you convince me that you’ve grown up?”

“…yes…?”

There was that half-smile.

I grinned, shoveling my food in my mouth and feeling content.

- 2 -

Sakura came into the restaurant, looking around furtively before her eyes locked on mine. She made a beeline in our direction.

“Hey-” I tried to greet her.

“Sasuke is here.”

I blinked slowly, then broke out into a grin. “Really? He’s early!”

“He’s pissed,” she said, trying to drag down my good mood.

“About Tsunade trying to give him that mission?”

“He told her he doesn’t take orders from Konoha,” Sakura rushed on. “So she said, ‘then maybe you don’t need the immunity that your Konoha headband gives you,’ and then he did his sneer face, you know the one, and he said, ‘make Naruto hokage or I walk.’”

“Whaaaaat?” I cried.

“And Tsunade was playing it cool, like, ‘well, walk then,’ and Sasuke said, ‘I walk, he walks.’”

I stared at her. “…and then?”

“He stormed out of there without waiting for a reply in typical over-dramatic Sasuke fashion,” she concluded.

I groaned.

“Who’s Sasuke?” my girlfriend Naomi asked cheerfully.

We both looked at her.

“What do you mean, ‘who is Sasuke’?” Sakura finally asked incredulously.

“He’s my best friend…” I tried.

“Oh, the weird guy who’s never around?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sakura said, nodding her head and tugging on my arm.

“He’s not weird!” I cried, feeling offended.

“We need to mediate this before it turns into something bigger,” Sakura urged me.

“But I was-” I started to say, glancing over at Naomi. Then I realized that we were talking about Sasuke and felt myself rising out of the booth, date long forgotten.

Naomi looked at me, confused. “Naruto?”

“Rain check!” I called, already moving after Sakura.

She turned back after we got onto the street. “Where do you think he went?”

“Training grounds,” I said, nodding my head in their direction.

“Okay,” she said, taking to the rooftops.

Sasuke was there as expected, angrily setting things on fire with his katon.

“Are we talking him down or beating sense into him?” Sakura asked, cracking her knuckles.

“Oi, Sasuke!” I yelled.

Sasuke stopped setting things on fire.

Sakura shook her head.

He sat down on the grass, and we came over to sit on either side of him.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said, nudging his side with my elbow.

“I had business with the hokage,” he replied with a shrug.

“Business,” Sakura grumbled.

“You know I’m right,” he grumbled right back at her.

“Of course I know!” she snapped. “But if what you’re saying to Tsunade-sama gets back to to the wrong person, you’re going straight back into the Bingo Book! And then what?!”

“I can take care of myself.”

��You know if you leave the village again that we’re going to follow you,” Sakura muttered.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at that. “Do I know that?”

“You know that Naruto will,” she said dismissively.

“I didn’t know that you would.”

Sakura shook her head. “Underestimating me like usual.”

“Underestimating that you wouldn’t be as dumb as Naruto?” Sasuke asked. “Yes.”

There was a pause, and then Sasuke grunted and I knew that Sakura had inflicted some kind of hurt on him.

“Sas’, it’s just reconnaissance,” I said, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

The glare I received did not ease my mind.

“And what is the illustrious Council going to use that reconnaissance for?” he ground out. “Because you know they’re stirring up shit with Lightning again.”

“Sas’…”

“The whole point is that you become the hokage and stop all this nonsense,” Sasuke said. “It’s the whole point, and the Council knows, and they know that as long as they keep dangling the carrot and saying that they’ll make you hokage one day that I have to do whatever they tell me. They fucking own me, and I can’t… I can’t breathe, I can’t…”

I was at a loss.

Sakura put her arm around Sasuke, and he leaned into her, away from me.

This was all my fault. I had let this drag on, I had accepted all the soon’s and the be patient’s. I looked at my two best friends, both hurting, and I knew that I couldn’t keep on just going with the flow.

“I’ve got you,” I said, standing up.

“What does that mean…?” Sakura trailed off as I walked away.

“Naruto.”

I stopped and turned back to look at them.

“Don’t do something stupid,” Sasuke said, already on his feet.

“Just trust me,” I said. I grinned at him. “I’ve got this.”

- 1 -

Sasuke unzipped the flap of the tent, his toiletries tucked in a bag under his arm as he entered. “You’re not asleep?” he asked.

“You’d think I would be, with how friggin’ long you take to get ready for bed,” I complained.

“I was checking the perimeter, dumbass,” he replied, putting his things away in his pack.

“He’s over here calling me ‘dumbass’,” I muttered.

“He’s over there talking to himself,” came his easy reply.

“Okay, but would it kill you to show me like a modicum of respect?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“It would not!” I cried.

“Oh, but it would,” he said, getting into his sleeping bag. “Good night, Junior Hokage.”

“Okay, see, you’re still alive.”

Sasuke didn’t answer.

“Very alive and not dead.”

He still didn’t answer.

“Jackass,” I complained, throwing my pillow at him.

He caught it and threw it back at me, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

I melted a little.

“What’s that stupid look for?” Sasuke scoffed at me.

“What look? There’s no stupid look!” I protested

He rolled his eyes at me. “You have clearly never seen your own face.”

I gave him the most shocked and offended look I could muster up.

His haughtiness softened around the edges, the left corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Sorry, sir.”

I bit my lip a little too hard.

Sasuke looked pleased with himself as he settled more comfortably into his sleeping bag.

I tried to pull myself together, but being on a mission in close proximity to him was starting to become a mission in its own right. The Council had agreed to my three-year transition plan, and had begrudgingly accepted Sasuke as my ‘chief adviser’ or whatever they were calling his job to make an Uchiha in power sound more palatable.

What they didn’t get and never would get was that Sasuke was my partner.

“You lead and I’ll follow,” he’d told me the night it was decided that I was the hokage-elect.

“Like you’ve ever followed anyone a day in your life,” I’d scoffed.

Four months into the transition, and Sasuke had yet to just do something because I told him to. That wasn’t what he meant by following me. What he meant was that I could tell him to do something, and then he would give me ten reasons why he wasn’t going to do it.

And it was exactly what I needed. I felt re-energized. I felt hopeful. I felt like I was making a difference.

And I felt like I was probably most definitely in love with Sasuke.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asked.

My eyes flicked over to him nervously.

He gave me a strange look. “I’m sleeping,” he said, rolling so his back was to me.

“Don’t be boring,” I complained.

“You’re the one who dragged us out to this god-forsaken place to do charity work,” he grumbled at me.

We’d had this conversation a hundred times already, but with us, what was a hundred more? “You said that I need to change what it means to be the hokage,” I said.

“Okay, but you could change what it means to be hokage somewhere… better.”

“Somewhere better?” I asked with a snort. “Are the accommodations not to your liking?”

“I’m just saying that helping some podunk little village rebuild from flooding isn’t going to do anything for you politically,” he said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.”

“Uh, duh,” I said.

He looked at me.

“That’s exactly the kind of hokage I want to be,” I said, smiling happily. “Someone who helps people for no reason or personal gain.”

“Stellar strategy, I’m sure the Council won’t find a way to back out of your agreement and make someone else hokage.”

“You know you support me one hundred percent,” I said with an easy shrug.

“Maybe one percent.”

“Ninety-nine percent.”

“Zero percent?”

“One hundred and fifty percent!”

Sasuke was shaking his head, but I could see his smile.

I lived for that smile. “Hey, Sas’?”

“What?”

I looked at him. I really looked at him. I wanted to tell him.

“Did your brain break?” he asked. He stifled a yawn.

“Probably,” I said.

That got a little laugh. “Go to bed, Naruto.”

“Yeah,” I said, settling into my sleeping bag. “Good night.”

Sasuke snapped off the light we had hanging in the tent.

I lay there, staring into the dark, and it was driving me crazy.

“Stop,” Sasuke finally grumbled.

“Stop what?” I whispered.

“Whatever you’re doing.”

“Breathing?”

“Yes, stop doing that.”

“Do you want me to die?!” I snipped.

“Why are you so damn loud in the middle of the night?” Sasuke sighed.

“You’re the one wishing death on me!”

“Just get it out, already,” Sasuke said irritably. “Obviously something is on your mind.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I protested.

“Then why are you all… frenetic?” he asked.

“Who’s frenetic, I’m not frenetic.”

“I can hear your leg bouncing,” he muttered.

I hadn’t realized I’d been doing that, and I quickly stilled my leg. Then I found that my fingers were tapping against the ground.

“It’s not like you,” Sasuke said quietly.

“Huh?”

“You don’t usually…” he trailed off, thinking over his words carefully. “You don’t usually keep things from me.”

Why did this man know me better than I knew myself? “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“I really don’t care. Just say it or go to sleep,” he said, but I had the feeling that he did actually care.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out.

“I’m going to sleep outside,” Sasuke growled.

“No, you’re not,” I said with a sigh. “I just… I’m not ready to say it.”

“Well get ready or figure out how to stop crawling out of your skin.”

I’d planned this. Not consciously, but now I could see how my sneaky subconscious had brought us to this point, alone on a mission just the two of us, sleeping in the same tent like we used to when we were twelve, with no one to interrupt us until the construction started in the morning. I wanted to tell him. I needed to tell him.

But should I tell him?

I thought back to the night that Sasuke moved into his own apartment, both of us a little drunk, the gentle touch of his lips to mine. Then the betrayal in his eyes when I told him that I wasn’t gay.

I wasn’t, but apparently it didn’t matter. I’d been too young and dumb at the time to realize it.

Sasuke was special.

Maybe I could just tell him that without getting into the whole calling his name while I was with women, and having almost daily sex dreams about him part.

I mean, he probably wouldn’t care, anyway. That kiss had been like ten years ago, and surely he had moved on since then. It wasn’t like he… stayed connected with a village he hated just because of me…

It wasn’t like he only smiled for me. I saw him almost smile at Sakura once. It was the smallest uptick. Nothing compared to the crooked smiles he showered me with, but…

“I’m going to slowly choke the life out of you,” Sasuke informed me, suddenly sitting on my chest with a hand wrapped around my throat.

“Uhhh…?” I said.

“You are so fucking annoying,” he ground out, applying light pressure. “What? What is it? Just say it.”

“Well, you’re kinda making it more awkward,” I squeaked out.

“Good,” he growled. “What did you do? What stupid thing did you do? Did you forget to do some important paperwork? Did you tell Sakura that her hospital clothes make her look like an middle-aged woman after I specifically told you not to? Did you piss off the Council and they decided to just cancel your whole hokage probation? Just tell me already.”

“Um, it wasn’t any of that,” I gasped.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, letting up on my throat and sitting back a little. “You’re still going to be the hokage in three years?”

“Duh.”

His expression relaxed and he gave me one of those smiles that, okay, were only for me.

I felt myself smiling back.

He pinched my cheek, then moved to go back to his sleeping bag.

I caught his hips, pulling him back.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at me. “You into being sat on?”

“Yes,” I replied without thinking.

“That’s an odd fetish,” he said, his eyes searching mine.

I should just say it. What could be a more perfect moment than this? I should definitely just say it.

“Naruto.”

I swallowed. “I’m.”

He waited.

I nodded my head.

His brow lifted.

“So,” I said.

He tilted his head to the side.

“Good,” I said.

“Did your brain break?” he finally asked.

“Yeah…” I said quietly. “Can you… come down here?”

Both of Sasuke’s eyebrows shot up. “Down where…?”

“Next to me,” I said, letting go of his hips.

He looked at me for a moment, then slid down beside me, propping his chin up on his hand as he lay on his side facing me.

I just had to get it out. I opened my mouth, and then remembered that I needed to get it out, but in a way that wasn’t going to piss Sasuke off. That’s what kept on silencing me. “I’ve been confused lately,” I said, deciding to be as honest as possible.

“How is that different from usual?” he asked.

“Are all the little zings really necessary?” I grumbled.

“The way you’ve been dragging this out, yes.”

“Okay, fine,” I said.

“Better be worth it,” he muttered.

“I love you!” I blurted out.

“Okay,” Sasuke said. “That’s not getting you out of telling me whatever horrible secret you’re hiding.”

“No, that’s the horrible secret,” I explained.

Sasuke let out a sudden bark of laughter. “What kind of secret is that?”

His sheer good-naturedness told me that he didn’t get what I was saying. “Sasuke, I’m in love with you,” I tried saying.

A little of the humor left his eyes. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about me being in love with you,” I said, feeling stupid and small.

“You’re not gay, Naruto,” he said flatly.

“No, I’m not,” I agreed.

Sasuke’s frown deepened. “I’m a man, Naruto.”

“I’m aware,” I said, trying to exude sincerity.

“Then do you see why what you’re saying is ridiculous?” he asked, sitting up. His arms crossed over his chest, a physical sign that he was starting to close himself off.

I sat up, too. “I know it doesn’t make sense, okay? I’m not gay, and you’re a man, but I love you so much it’s crazy.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Yeah, it is, because I don’t get it, okay?” I said. “I don’t know why I feel this way about you, but I do. And I’ve asked you to do this huge thing and be my partner when I become hokage, but I can’t start off the new Konoha lying to you, yeah? I have to be honest or this is never going to work, and honestly I’m in love with you. So. Yeah.”

Sasuke was staring at me, and definitely not in a good way.

“Sas’…” I tried.

“I fucking hate you,” he whispered.

Oh, fuck.

“You piece of shit,” he said, his voice getting louder. “You fucking piece of shit. Don’t you ever fucking say another word about this to me ever again.”

I knew all along that he was going to react badly, but I didn’t really know why he would. If I asked him why, he was going to react even more badly, so I was kind of stuck just staring at him pathetically.

“Do you hear me?” he growled, grabbing me by my shirt and staring me down. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” “…no?” I said quietly.

He shook me, then dropped my shirt in disgust, standing up in a crouch in the low tent. “I need to go.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to get him to stay.

“Fuck your sorry!” Sasuke snapped at me. “And fuck you,” he added for good measure.

“Do you think I’m joking with you or something?” I asked, not used to being the target of Sasuke’s venom after so many years. “Do you think I’m not being sincere?”

“Of course you’re not being sincere!” he yelled. “What kind of straight man tells another man that he loves him?”

“What, just because I’m not gay, I can’t have feelings for you?!” I cried, standing up and crouching in front of him. A tent was a terrible place to have an argument.

“Yes, Naruto!” he said. “That’s exactly what it fucking means! Not being gay means that you are not attracted to men, you dumb shit!”

“Okay, but maybe consider that I’m Sasuke-sexual!” I snapped.

Sasuke opened his mouth but then immediately closed it. He sat down on his sleeping bag and stared up at me. “Sasuke… sexual…” he repeated, shaking his head.

“I am…” I tried to assert.

“There’s no such thing as Sasuke-sexual!” he yelled, but he wasn’t as mad anymore, and I felt some of the tension release from my shoulders.

I sat down across from him. “Well, that’s what Sakura said…”

“Sakura knows about this?”

“Well, I told her about all the sex stuff, so…”

“What. Sex. Stuff.”

I could feel my face burning. “Just sex stuff. About you. Um. Sexy dreams and uh… other stuff.”

“I don’t like it,” he said. “I don’t like it,” he repeated. “Naruto, don’t do this to me. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” I protested, feeling a little annoyed now. “I’m telling you how I feel. That’s more than you’ve ever done.”

He looked like I’d slapped him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, Sasuke, I’m not fucking kidding you,” I said irritably. “You kissed me, and then you ran away. You acted like it never happened. And maybe if you had used your goddamn words instead, we could have figured some of this shit out.”

“You told me you weren’t gay!” he yelled, getting mad again.

“Yeah, and it’s pretty fucking weird that a non-gay guy was so cool with his gay best friend kissing him, wasn’t it?!” I snapped.

“You told me you weren’t gay,” he repeated, his voice getting softer. “You humiliated me.”

I was gobsmacked. “I humiliated you?”

“I was so sure you felt the same way about me,” he said. “I was so sure, and then you pushed me away and said you weren’t gay, and I felt so… beneath you. Like you were looking down on the poor little queer, telling me that it didn’t matter and you would forgive me-”

“I never said that-”

“Oh, okay, then how am I supposed to interpret all your little good-guy speeches about how it wouldn’t affect our friendship, how you still looked at me the same, whatever bullshit you came out with that clearly said that I’d done something wrong, but you were such a great guy that you would just overlook it?”

“That’s not what I meant…” I mumbled feebly. “You just gave me this look like… I betrayed you, and I kept rambling, trying to make sure you wouldn’t just throw me away…”

“You threw me away,” he muttered.

“Sasuke…”

“So you suddenly want to fuck me now?”

“I…” I trailed off, feeling strange.

“No, really, tell me all about these sex dreams you’ve been having about me after telling me you weren’t gay.”

I was red again.

“Do you picture me with a pussy so you can stomach it?” he growled.

“No...” I said, cringing. “Sas’, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Is that the most important thing to fixate on when I’m telling you that I love you?” I asked. This conversation was getting way off course.

“I just want to understand what a straight man sees in me,” he replied, eyes meeting mine in an unwavering stare.

“Oh, that’s easy,” I said, relaxing. “You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re nice when you want to be, you’re good at making ramen, you fight for the people you love, you always stand up for what’s right even if it’s hard…”

“…none of those sound like romantic attraction,” Sasuke muttered.

“What, do you want me to tell you how attractive I find you?”

“Honestly, I think you just want to be me and are confusing that with physical attraction,” Sasuke said with a shrug.

I gaped at him. “Jerk, who would want to be you?!” I snapped.

He smiled at that. “You.”

“Ohmigod, you are the most narcissistic asshole on the face of this earth!”

He shrugged again.

“Please explain to me how it makes more sense that I want to be you than I want to be in you,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sasuke startled at that.

I thought back over what I’d just said carefully. “Uhhh, I mean… be with you…?”

“Do you even know how gay sex works?” he asked, eyes very carefully not meeting mine.

“I researched it,” I said confidently.

“And you’re just fine with it?” he asked.

I swallowed. “I… don’t know if I’m ready for everything, but… I’m very interested in some of it.”

“You’re very interested in some of it?” Sasuke scoffed. “Which parts? Please do elaborate.”

I was red again. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Most definitely.”

“I mean, how much detail…?”

“All the details.”

“All the details?”

“All the details.”

“I mean, do I start with you, um…”

“With me what?” Sasuke asked, clearly starting to feel back in control as he looked me in the eyes.

“Well I guess um… you know… with your mouth…”

“So you’d like to get blown,” Sasuke said, nodding his head.

“I mean… yes…?”

“Interesting, and were you planning on returning the favor?”

I looked at the ground. “If you wanted me to, I could… try.”

“So really you just want me to suck you off and then you give me a pat on the head for a job well done?”

“You asked me what I was interested in and I told you,” I growled, crossing my arms over my chest. “This is all new to me, I’m not a professional gay like you.”

Sasuke very slowly raised an eyebrow.

This was already a disaster, and I seemed to be adding more flames to the fire. “Forget it. Forget everything I said.”

“Oh, are we just going to pretend that this didn’t happen?” Sasuke asked in that jackass tone of voice of his.

“Yes,” I said. “We’re going to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow in a world where I never said anything, and then I’m going to tell you in a non-offensive way that I love you, and you will graciously listen to me and shake my hand at the end and agree that you don’t mind me having feelings for you and that you still want to work with me to build the new Konoha.”

He didn’t say anything at first, and I held my breath waiting.

Then I needed air and pulled it in with a loud gasp.

“Idiot,” he grumbled.

I gave him my biggest, roundest puppy dog eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice taking on a vulnerable quality.

I nodded my head enthusiastically.

“Okay,” he said, getting back into his sleeping bag. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” I agreed, clamoring back into my own sleeping bag. “So…”

“So?”

“We’re… okay?”

“Well, we’re pretending nothing happened, so we can also pretend that we’re okay,” Sasuke reasoned.

“Saaaaasukeeeeeee,” I complained. “I’m sorry,” I added.

“Sorry for what?”

“For my behavior for the last… fifteen-ish years.”

“You’re going to need a lot more sorries than that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, as sincerely as I could.

“Weirdo.”

“I know.”

Sasuke sighed. Or maybe he was taking a breath. “Naruto?”

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow…”

“Mm?”

“When you tell me whatever it has that you have to tell me…”

“Uh-huh?”

“What if I…” he trailed off and was silent.

“Tell me tomorrow,” I said.

“Okay.”

I slept fitfully, constantly waking up to every little noise. The ground was more uncomfortable than usual, and I found myself constantly shifting and readjusting.

It was barely what could be called morning when I opened my eyes and found Sasuke right in front of me.

“Tell me the thing,” he said quietly.

“I’m in love with you,” I said, still half-asleep but never surer of anything in my life.

“Not just as friends?”

“Definitely not just as friends,” I said, trying to blink my eyes awake.

“Promise?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

“Promise,” I said, looking back and smiling.

He took a breath and shifted closer, then stopped. His eyes kept staring into mine, asking a silent question.

I didn’t want to misread him, but it seemed like the longer I hesitated, the more anxious his expression got. I reached out, curling my fingers gently behind his neck and pulling him in until we were sharing air. “I promise,” I repeated.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft.

We just breathed together, both of us about to have mutual nervous breakdowns.

“Naruto,” he said, and there were those eyes again.

All I had to do to answer the question…

It was the most tentative brush of lips in the history of brushing lips, but Sasuke endured it silently.

I looked at him.

He looked back at me.

I wanted him to talk to me. I wanted him to tell me exactly what he expected. What he wanted. But in this moment, I knew there was no way that he would expose himself like that. I had to be the one to take the risks. I had to be the one to be vulnerable. And it was scary. It was really scary, and my breathing was getting more and more erratic, but Sasuke was just looking back at me and waiting, so I knew what I had to do and I kissed him like I meant it.

It was sparks.

It was fireworks.

It was home.

- 0 -

Naruto was spread-eagled across our bed like the whole damn thing belonged to him.

I sighed, dropping my travel bag on the floor before giving him a light kick.

He grumbled and shifted over about an inch.

“Uzumaki, you need to move,” I growled, peeling my shirt over my head and tossing it into the hamper.

“But I’m comfy,” he mumbled, smacking his lips sleepily.

“Get comfy somewhere else,” I complained, adding my pants to the hamper and walking over to the dresser. The room was dark, so I felt along in the drawer with my hand until I found my nightclothes.

Naruto made some incoherent sound that probably meant he had gone back to sleep.

He worked hard every day, and I hated how tired he always was, but I had just traveled eighteen hours straight to get home, and he needed to move his ass over.

Dressed and ready for bed, I gave his bottom a much more significant kick that jarred him enough away from my side of the bed that I could squeeze in.

I don’t know why I bothered, because he immediately rolled right back over, wrapping himself around me.

“Hey,” he said, kissing my shoulder sleepily. “I missed you.”

I was ready to be annoyed, but our bed was comfortable, Naruto was warm, and it was nice to be home.

“How was your mission?” he hummed into my skin.

“The usual.”

“That’s a pretty crappy mission report.”

“Well, you’re a pretty crappy hokage.”

“What is wrong with you?” he snorted, nudging me until I turned on my side to face him. “Show your hokage-to-be some respect.”

“No,” I said, which only seemed to make him smile even wider.

Naruto didn’t mind my shit when he knew I didn’t mean it. He rested his hand against my cheek, grinning dopily.

“I missed you, too,” I finally acknowledged, giving him a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth.

His face lit up and I found myself being aggressively cuddled.

Our breathing started to even out as we both drifted towards sleep.

In moments like this, our relationship was easy, but when we woke up in the morning, the world would come crashing back in and everything would be complicated again.

“It’s in less than a week,” Naruto said, breaking up the silence.

I breathed in sharply, coming fully awake again. “Yeah, it is,” I agreed.

“Will you stay home more?”

I couldn’t answer that.

Naruto sighed, kissing the top of my head. “I need you,” he said quietly. “I’m not… I can’t do this on my own, ya know?”

“I know,” I said. I was the one who’d put the responsibility of changing the entire ninja world on his shoulders. I just found it easier to support his ideals when I was as far away from Konoha as possible. “I’m here now.”

“…for how long?”

I took a breath, weighing my answer so it didn’t turn into a fight. “Until you send me on another mission.”

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his cheek against mine. “Sorry for keepin’ you up, I just… every time I start to fall asleep, my mind starts goin’ a million miles a minute…”

I took his hand that was resting on my hip and laced our fingers together.

Naruto relaxed, some of his nervous energy dissipating.

“You’ll be a great hokage,” I said quietly.

“If I make it to my inauguration without being assassinated…”

“That’s the spirit.”

“…is that why you rushed back here so quickly?” he asked.

“I didn’t rush,” I said, despite how obvious it was that I had.

“Aw, did you wanna proteeeeect me?” Naruto cooed.

“Idiot,” I muttered. Of course I wanted to protect him. He had almost as many enemies as I did now after all his campaigns for reform. He also had just as many loyal allies willing to lay down their lives for him, but try as I might I just couldn’t trust anyone else to watch his back. I had to be here, making sure that nothing happened to stop Naruto’s becoming the sixth hokage.

He was smiling at me dopily, reading my thoughts clearly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna totally rock your world, okay?”

I rolled my eyes at that. “Okay, let me get out my day planner and pencil in a world rocking from 7:00 to 7:02.”

The look on his face was priceless.

“Saaaaasukeeeee,” he whined.

“Go to sleep, Naruto,” I said, squeezing his hand. I was always being meaner to him than necessary, but he understood.

“I’ll try,” he said, snuggling into me.

Fuck, he was adorable and more than I deserved.

I tended to be insecure about our relationship, and that led to me being an unnecessary asshole. Our sex life was especially complicated, and we still had to tread lightly sometimes. If I didn’t like something that we were doing and promptly informed Naruto, he would immediately stop, give me a kiss, and do something different. If Naruto informed me that he didn’t like something, I took it as a personal insult against myself and my lineage that needed to be avenged immediately.

Naruto dealt with the fact that he was a straight man in a gay relationship better than I did. ‘Heteroflexible’ he called it.

Not that Naruto was always perfect and kind and understanding. We fought at times, mostly about the village. He sometimes forgot to take off his rose-colored glasses and remember what had been done to him by the people claiming to have his best interests at heart. No matter how many times I tried to convince him that the Third Hokage had neglected him, he refused to hear it.

I wanted Naruto to recognize the wrongs done to him, but that was a losing battle.

Much faster to just remind him that the Third Hokage covered up the slaughter of my family.

Naruto always got pissed off on my behalf.

Maybe one day we’d work out all of our psychological issues, but until then I just wanted him to understand that condemning the atrocities of one’s followers while helping them to cover it all up did not a good leader make.

I don’t know why I worried. Naruto was already the best hokage Konoha had ever seen, and he hadn’t even officially taken the title yet. Because in the end, Naruto always did the right thing.

I held him close, listening to his obnoxious snoring. It lulled me into sleep, my eyes sliding shut.

We didn’t have it all figured it out yet, but we’d figure it out together.

Starting with a world rocking promptly at 7:00, apparently.

I stayed curled up in bed as Naruto shuffled around after, getting read for work.

“You sure you don’t want breakfast or anything?” he asked softly, the mattress dipping under his weight.

I mumbled something that probably resembled “no” and buried myself deeper in the blankets. I felt the warmth of his hand as he touched my cheek, my eyes staying firmly shut.

“Okay, I’m off to save the world now.”

A little smile twitched at my lips.

“Love you,” he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to my temple. “Come in before noon with your mission report, or you’re fired!”

My smile got a little wider. Naruto’s fake power trips were cute, mostly due to how obviously fake they were. “Like you would ever fire me,” I hummed.

“Try me,” he said, his voice teasing. He pat my head, fingers running through my hair lingeringly before disappearing. “See you at eleven fifty-nine.”

I scoffed, because I certainly hadn’t been planning to arrive exactly one minute before the deadline he gave me just to be contrary. “Bye.”

“Bye!” he called, his voice drifting in from the hallway.

I listened until his steps disappeared and the front door closed.

Naruto had seemed so lost and aimless after the war, never knowing which direction to go in. Ever since that day in the training field, though, when he forced the Council’s hand to name him officially as the sixth hokage... Ever since that day, it was like Naruto had finally gotten on the path he was always meant to be on. He moved with purpose again, his inner light filling him up after being dim for so long.

That light illuminated my own path.

I was still working on myself, trying to sort out the anger and the loss and the helplessness and the longing for revenge that never quite went away, but when I watched Naruto moving forward with no trace of doubt, it was like I could see my own path forward.

Naruto’s face was priceless as Shizune let me into the hokage’s office.

“You’re… early…” he said, glancing at the clock which read, ‘9:01’.

“I like to keep you on your toes,” I said, striding across the room and dumping my mission report on Naruto’s little desk that was pulled up next to Tsunade’s. I didn’t spare her a glance, because it had long since been established that I only answered to Naruto.

“Consider me toed,” he said, raising his leg over his desk and pointing his toes.

Everyone in the room stared at him.

Naruto laughed his stupid laugh, and I felt myself almost smiling.

This idiot was going to be the hokage in five days, and I would move heaven and earth to make sure he was the greatest hokage Konoha ever saw.

#narusasu #fanfiction #isola u-turn

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