#ao3 excerpt

[levelofyoureye]

First up is the triple flip-double axel sequence. Regulus turns into it with ease, tapping his right foot on the ice and drawing himself up into as tight of an air position as he can manage. He lands the jump without difficulty, then steps onto his left foot and kicks up right into a double axel. Yet again, he comes down with ease, and as the applause from the crowd picks up he uses it as motivation. That was nothing, he thinks as he takes his crossovers down the ice. Now, it’s just the triple lutz. One more jump, and you’re set. One more jump. One more jump, and it’s the one he’s landed the least in practice. One more jump, and his success rate is still barely above sixty percent. One more jump, and if he falls, his mother will be furious. Lucius will blame it on him nearly killing himself in the short program yesterday, and Regulus won’t be able to deny it. One more jump, and it’s a clean skate.

chapter 30 of my james potter hockey player/regulus black figure skater AU is up now, we're so back y'all! sorry i fell off the face of the earth for a bit–hope you guys accept this as an apology 🫂

[tenrousei-kuroi]

"Oh Prongs, really...you're doing me a favor."

[nootcatt]

An Excerpt from

Want So Bad

By HalaeNoor on AO3

Nangong Si finds it to be ironically amusing how everything that he files under good in his life somehow ends up related to Ye Wangxi. It is a phenomenon that happens unconsciously and as soon as he realises that it has happened again, he finds himself laughing and mentally smacking himself. He cannot help it. There is a reason Ye Wangxi is his best friend. All the best things in his life are because of him.  When Nangong Si first started thinking about what he wanted in his life, he was seventeen years and one month old. He remembers that night because that was the night Ye Wangxi told him about his gender identity.   It was a quarter moon night, and the stars were just beginning to show in the night sky because all the lights in the estate were finally turned off.  “Finally,” Ye Wangxi had said, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. “Now maybe we can see the meteor shower.” For some reason, between the two of them, he always got cold sooner. Which is why he was tightly wrapped up while Nangong Si sat on his blanket with his weight on his hands and his legs spread in front of him. They had pushed the chairs to a side because they both preferred the floors to tweed chairs when they did things like this.  “It doesn’t start for another hour,” Nangong Si reminded him.  “Forty five minutes actually,” Ye Wangxi corrected him, “and that doesn’t mean I can’t be grateful for less light pollution.”  Nangong Si hummed and huffed a laugh at that, but he did not say anything against it. There were already so few things that Ye Wangxi enjoyed, why should he interrupt him now that he finally gets the chance.  He just observed his friend from where he was sitting while Ye Wangxi had his eyes already glued to the sky like some stray meteor would pass by way ahead of scheduled activity. His features were softer then, his cheeks were rounded and his body was smaller than it is now. He identified as a girl then. His hair was longer, but he always kept it rolled up or braided away. That night, it was held up with a simple ballpoint pen that he had been using in class. He was a tomboy. Yet his eyes and his smile have always been the same. Nangong Si found himself smiling whenever Ye Wangxi did. Never as wide or bright as his, though. Ye Wangxi’s smile has always been unparalleled. 

“A-Si,” Ye Wangxi said after a little while, “don’t look at me like that.” Nangong Si realised then that he was staring. He didn’t mean to stare, he was just watching how happy Ye Wangxi looked. “Sorry,” he said and sat up. He folded his legs under him and put his chin on his fists, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “I’m not uncomfortable,” Ye Wangxi shook his head, “just… you weren’t even blinking.” That sounded a little peculiar to Nangong Si. The whole time he was looking at Ye Wangxi, he did not see the boy move his eyes away from the stars. How did he know that Nangong Si did not blink? “I’ll remember to blink next time I stare,” Nangong Si told him, and that earned him an eyeroll. “I didn’t mean that, dummy,” Ye Wangxi told him, “I mean don't stare.” “Ah Xi'er,” Nangong Si chuckled a little at that, “I will not stare. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” “Don’t be,” Ye Wangxi said, and then they returned to waiting for the meteor shower to start. With nothing to do now that he was told to not watch Ye Wangxi, Nangong Si opened up the bag of chips that they had bought along with the juice boxes that reminded them of when they were little kids. He passed one box to Ye Wangxi and opened one for himself. He was careful not to finish all of it even before the shower started because then there would be no snacks left for after. “A-Si?” Ye Wangxi said when Nangong Si was half way through the box. “Yes?” He asked. “Did you feel bad when I told you not to stare?” That was an unexpected question. Was Ye Wangxi feeling guilty for having done that? Was he afraid of having hurt Nangong Si’s feelings? “Why would I feel bad?” Nangong Si asked, “It’s your right to tell me when you’re uncomfortable with something that I do.” “I was not uncomfortable,” Ye Wangxi told him, “not exactly.” The way he said that, Nangong Si wondered what was going on in his head. Just a little while ago he was so happy to be looking at the sky and now he was saying things like this that didn’t exactly make sense. “Can you tell me what you felt?” Nangong Si asked, and Ye Wangxi remained silent for a while. It made Nangong Si anxious. Even then, when Ye Wangxi did not make his heart beat faster or his breath fall short, Nangong Si cared about his feelings. He cared about when his best friend was feeling upset about something. He cared about his happiness and his smiles. “I…” Ye Wangxi pulled the blanket a little higher over his head, “I don’t know if it will make sense if I try to explain it.”

Nangong Si got up from where he was sitting and sat down on his knees in front of the bundled up Ye Wangxi. Under his blanket, he had his knees pulled up to his chest and half his face hiding behind it. His eyes watched Nangong Si waiting to see how he would react.

“Try me,” Nangong Si told his best friend, “I will tell you if it makes sense or not.”

Ye Wangxi closed his eyes then and pulled the blanket up until all of him was just a bundled up person in front of him. Then his muffled voice sounded from the depths, low and quiet.

“I don’t want anyone to look at me in a body that I don’t associate with.”

“Don’t associate with?” Nangong Si was confused. He hadn’t thought that Ye Wangxi was going through something like that.

“Let me explain,” Ye Wangxi peeked out from under the blanket, “think of it like… Like if you have a uniform. It’s pink and frilly, and it twirls when you spin it too. It's cute. Everyone says you look pretty in it.”

Nangong Si did as he was told, imagining a person in a uniform like that.

“Now,” Ye Wangxi continued, “Everyone else likes it. And it looks really good on other girls. But you hate the frills, and the pink is so bright it makes you want to squint each time you look in the mirror.”

“That was me when dad made me wear that brown frilly suit with the bonnet.” Nangong Si remembered, and Ye Wangxi pulled his head out. It was still hidden behind his knees, but his eyes were very bright and visible.

“That’s how I feel in my body,” Ye Wangxi told him then, “like it is good looking, but I don’t like being in it. I don’t like looking at myself in it.”

“Is that why you’re hiding?” Nangong Si asked, and Ye Wangxi nodded.

“Do you not like to be seen like you are?” Nangong Si asked and Ye Wangxi shook his head.

That could mean two things. Nangong Si decided to confirm.

“What would make you feel better?” he asked, “Would you like to be… curvier? Or…”

“Not curvy,” Ye Wangxi shook his head, “not curvy at all.”

“Then?” He asked.

“I don't know,” Ye Wangxi told him, “I just… I would change things if I could. I just… I just don’t like the way I look. I don’t want you to look at me like this either.”

“I will not look at you,” Nangong Si promised.

“Forever?” Ye Wangxi sounded so innocent when he asked that.

“Well not forever,” Nangong Si did his best to not laugh, “let's see if there's a way to make you feel easier in your body. Or maybe we just swap it for a different one and see if you feel okay being seen like that. You know, like in video games?”

“Like changing avatars?” Ye Wangxi found that thought funny too.

“Yes,” Nangong Si settled down there. Ye Wangxi crosses his legs as well, emerging from the blanket to copy his posture.

“Can I be taller?” He asked.

“Can I be taller?” He asked. “Not taller than me,” Nangong Si specified, “if you get taller than me, I'll have to call you jiejie.” “Don't call me jiejie.” Ye Wangxi shook his head, “you don't even call me meimei.” “What do I call you then?” Nangong Si asked. Ye Wangxi frowned as he thought that over. Then he came to the simplest solution. “Ye Wangxi.” “Ye Wangxi it is then.” He nodded. “But a taller Ye Wangxi,” came another specification. “Less… girly. Less frill, less frocks, no dresses— no makeup.” “Hmm,” Nangong Si hummed, “manly man Ye Wangxi. Big, strong and handsome.” Ye Wangxi blushed at that. He fumbled with his blanket and then a few days later, he told Nangong Si that he really liked the idea of Man Ye Wangxi, even though they missed the first few meteors. Nangong Si did not see any meteors at all though, so he could only chuckle. The only thing he saw was Ye Wangxi watching the stars with a possibility of a future that feels like a fantasy. Then he found himself wondering what would be in his fantasy future.

Read the rest of the fic here (x)

[thedaselcor]

Love Arthur as gay, love Arthur as bi/pansexual, but may I present... Arthur as fundamentally Merlinsexual: His whole life, Arthur had thought that he would marry for his kingdom. He’d never been especially interested in women, but he assumed that it was normal and, since he had to marry for Camelot anyway, that it really didn’t matter. Then Merlin kissed him, and he kissed Merlin back. And the kiss was passionate and feverish, and it spent several minutes getting more passionate and feverish before he’d been able to pull himself away. And something about it ignited the bond he’d shared with Merlin since the day he’d had Merlin imprisoned and he’d refused to back down. That spark… 

[dss1101]

"Jason is smart, okay? Though that may not exactly be the first word that comes to mind when most people think of the Red Hood. Words like brute, violent, and crazy, sure, those are words he expects. It’s not like they’re untrue, and he worked hard to cultivate that image of himself, thank you very much. But being Robin’s a tough gig, you don’t survive being Robin if you aren’t smart. 

Huh, maybe he’s not as smart as he thinks."

I love writing Jason because he's an overflowing container of a backstory worthy of dark humor. Ugh he's the best

[hunterevie]

Now…I’m not saying I hated the ending of Supernatural…but…

…I may have hated the ending 😅.

[erinwantstowrite]

WIP Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Tagged by @cerealboxlore

My Word: Marvel

I decided to use chapter 16 of LoF for this because I've been working on it today teehee

M- "Maybe because it was because Peter was introducing Loki and Dick for the first time, and he remembered what the Bats thought about the God."

A- "Also, it would make Thor sad, so I’d ask that you not kill Loki. Because you totally could, I believe you.”

R- Resurrection?

V (I don't have a V sentence 😔💔)

E- "Everyone needs backup at some point, fighting alone doesn’t help anyone. But especially someone Peter’s age. He’s done a great job at taking care of himself and this situation, but that doesn’t mean he has to. We’re more than happy to take some of the burden. And this is how we operate. If you don’t like it, or if your Avengers don’t like it, then they can take it up with me.”

L- Loki got a kick out of that part of the story. At one point, he created an illusion of little action-figure sized Batman, Robin, Nightwing, and Spider-Man on the dashboard, and had them re-enact the scene as best as Peter could tell it. “For the visuals.” Loki had smirked. And he had asked Dick, “What do you think? They look just like the real thing, no?” To which Dick had replied “Why did you make my head so big?” and Loki had sworn that his head just looks that big normally and he ‘Didn’t do anything to the illusion, really, Grayson, do you think so little of me?’ Which made Dick’s eye twitch.

I'm tagging @mockingjaylad !!! :3 your word is "BIRD"

[clegfly]

Hi. Throws small self indulgent “mari actually IS something and after the true ending is able to get with hero via cleg logic I can’t be bothered to explain in a short funny description and oh god this is too long” au at you and runs into the woods

[deathnguts]

Everything about Regulus screamed that he was already dead. His very being sang of apparition, grief was painted white in his skin. One looked at him and could feel in the cold emanating from him that he was already a ghost.

Everything about Barty screamed: haunt me, haunt me, haunt me…

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

X. “discernment”

parts: previous / next

plot: back in your respective hometowns, you navigate a sudden shift in family finances. Bruce Wayne contemplates an identity shift.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, health issues, chemotherapy, debt, substance use

words: 3.1k

a/n: i feel like this chapter is kinda the end of the setup. i’ve had a lot of fun subverting expectations of Batman’s identity usually being kept secret, and seeing how that impacts the story to have it be known so immediately. ahhh i’m very excited to keep writing <3

You did your best to shower as quickly as possible, ransacking your medicine cabinet behind the mirror while the water was heating up. Toothbrush, toothpaste, you had it all back at home, and it went into the trash. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, all did the same after you used up what you could and jumped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a single towel you were fine with leaving behind. As you walked back into the main room, you stopped for a moment. With the sheets off the bed, the kitchen empty, and the rest of the room deserted besides what was left of your luggage, it felt final. Gotham was finally being abandoned and you could go back to the safety of hometown life.

Sweats, tee, sneakers. The plane ride was going to feel massively long with how much anticipation was in your bones thinking about being able to make your mom's appointment. You'd clarified with your dad with a text message and he responded that her treatment was at 3. Even if the plane left by noon, that was 9 to them--you'd be home by 2, could head straight from the airport to her chemo. Luggage zipped, key in hand, you nearly made it out the door before remembering you had edibles sitting in your nightstand. You couldn't technically have it in your apartment, and you definitely couldn't bring it past TSA... you shoved it in your pocket to discard in a public trashcan and made your way to the lobby. You gave the keys and your name to the same young woman, and walked out of the lobby for the final time. Damn. I'm really done here. I'm done with Gotham. I just need to make it on my plane. Then I'm gone.

Bruce was slumped down in his chair trying to avoid passersby. You slipped in beside him and yanked your thick luggage between your legs. He sat up and nodded at you as he buckled, and you did the same. As you reached to click the seatbelt in, the edibles slipped out of your pocket and fell at his feet. Shit. He reached down, read the package, and his brow furrowed. "Marijuana?"

You laughed. Hadn't he ever seen it before? "Yeah uh, I can't take it with me to the airport or leave it here." You shrugged and held your hand out expectantly, but he hesitated. His eyes scanned your face, confused. "You do marijuana?"

Now you were looking at him with confusion. He'd never done it? Drops were hardcore; weed was legal in Gotham, it was legal in most states now. You'd gone to a dispensary just around the corner from your complex to get it, surely he had experience. "Sometimes. Why are you looking at me like that?" A slight defense crept into your tone; people drank alcohol all the time, why was it strange to have edibles? He gave the slightest shake of his head and mumbled. "I just don't see the point."

"I don't get the point of drinking alcohol either, but,"

"I don't drink. I don't do any substances."

You whipped your head toward him. "Like ever?"

"I need to be clear at a moment's notice." He gestured for you to click your seatbelt in, dropped the edibles in your lap, and pushed on the gas. You sat in silence for most of the ride there, and just before he took the exit toward the dropoff lane you held them out to him. "Here. Take them." You paused. "Please."

He shot a glare at you, nearly missing the exit. "Why?"

"You don't have to take them or anything, I just can't have them on me at security." You shrugged and he begrudgingly obliged, tucking them into his pant pocket. He pulled to the right and stopped, unlocking the car. You sat for a moment, staring at all the passengers going in, all the couples embracing each other with heartfelt goodbyes. Your heart throbbed. You wanted that. You wanted to be held, you wanted someone to miss you—someone that didn't have to, like parents. Someone that liked you enough for you, as you were, for no reason other than enjoyment and care. Already in your mid-twenties you were beginning to wonder if that would ever happen for you, and it didn't help to be sitting in a car with the most frustrating, cold man imaginable while looking at so much warmth and love.

He hesitated before asking what had been on his mind since City Hall. “How did you know it was me?”

You hesitated just the same, then shrugged. “I don’t know, i just… knew?” How else could you express just how unique his eyes were? You turned toward him and met his available gaze. His eyes were so distinctive... you couldn't even quite place the color, further puzzling you as to how you had matched him so immediately to the vigilante. Maybe that was the whole thing—his eyes were so unplaceable. Sitting between a gray and blue with no particular lean to one or the other. You hadn't seen anything like it. "Thank you." A smile was easily conjured for him, sympathy and guilt fueling it. "I know I pushed my way into your home. And again, I won't tell anyone. Promise." You cleared your throat and averted your eyes as you popped open the passenger door and grabbed your luggage. He didn't respond until the door was almost shut. "I know. Have a safe flight."

You hid your smile as you shut the door behind you and walked through to the lobby of the airport. You were just in time to get in line for TSA and still make it to your terminal. You shuffled around in your purse to find your ID and pulled up the virtual ticket on your phone. God. You were finally going to be home.

You woke to the pilot over the intercom: "Good afternoon folks, we have arrived in Seattle, Washington. It is now 1:39pm as we pull into the terminal. The weather is a comfortable 73 degrees with partly cloudy skies. Alaska Airlines thanks you."

Waiting for you in the lobby was your mother and father, but your eyes quickly landed on your mother's new wheelchair. She looked frail, with more deep-set wrinkles exaggerated by her new thinness. A lump formed in your throat. He'd said she'd gotten worse. You hoped it wasn't impossibly worse, but soon you would find out more information. You hid your surprise and ran to them with open arms. Your mother started weeping, pointing out how much more grown up you looked. "Your updates on Facebook didn't do you justice," She complimented. Thankfully her voice was unchanged.

Your dad drove you all straight from airport parking to her doctor's office. Chills traveled up your spine remembering the times you'd sobbed alone in your car wondering if the chemo would work, if the medicines that made her vomit and cry in the middle of the night when she thought no one was listening would be worth it. Only to end up back here. But, you reminded yourself, with so much more time than some people got.

Your dad looked tired, so you told him you'd take your mom inside. She was happy to get some time alone with you, chattering on with questions about what exactly Gotham had been like. "I've heard so much about it. Your dad focuses on the bad things now more than I do, he's been worried sick. Especially with all the explosions. Those did worry me I'll admit. But you're back now! We got your room ready, and Walter is so excited to see you! Ever since we made the room up he has been sitting at the foot of your bed." Walter was the family cat your mother got about seven years ago when she was first diagnosed; he was her therapy cat, and he'd taken to everyone in the house. You were excited to see him, you'd missed him tons.

The receptionist smiled when you walked into the clinic, gesturing for you to follow her to a room down the hall. "Mrs. Y/L/N, how are you doing? This room is ready for you." As you wheeled your mom in and sat her next to the IV, you pulled a chair over to sit nearby. You noticed it wasn't already pulled close—did people normally not accompany their relatives, friends, neighbors to their appointments? It saddened you to think about someone having to endure chemotherapy alone. You'd never do that to her.

About halfway through some more casual conversation—the neighbors were doing great, excited to see you, your dad had been working on a back porch for them to spend nights looking at the sunsets together, she'd stocked the fridge with all your favorites, asked about your classes, and gushed to the nurses about how you were now a soon to be college graduate. She also expressed sorrow about having you come back so early and miss graduation, to which you immediately and profusely told her not to worry. You were so glad to be back, and grateful to just do everything you could. You told her how you'd be looking for a job this summer.

A nurse walked in and gently reminded you both about payment. Your mom gestured to her purse sitting at the table opposite her and you went to find her credit card. Long ago your family had abandoned debit, as the mounting costs of having cancer were too much to front all at once. You hurried to the receptionist and stood in line behind a mother and young kid with a bald head. God, kids shouldn't have to go through this. No one should have to. "Miss Y/L/N?"

"Yes, this is for Y/L/N." You held out the family credit card but the receptionist cocked her head at you with a furrowed brow. "Oh hon, your balance is paid."

You stopped. What? "Uh, I'm sorry, I don't think I've paid yet." You stared at her as she clicked a few buttons and focused on her screen. She shook her head. "Nope, but an anonymous benefactor has paid your remaining balance and left a card on file." She smiled over at you. "Must be your lucky day!" She clicked a few things with her mouse and walked over to the printer, handing you an invoice. In bold print next to the mountain of numbers which had previously had a negative in front was a new 0 next to PAID. Concerned, you rushed back to your mother's room. She noted your concern at once. "Y/N, what is it?" She moved toward you enough to get the monitor to start beeping to stay put. You stared down at the paper. "It, it says it's paid. By an anonymous person, I don't, I don't know."

You fell back in your seat as you handed your mom the paper. She pored over it, then shrieked with relief. "Honey, this is a blessing. I can't believe it!" Tears came to her eyes and she looked around. "My phone, I need to tell Thomas,"

"Here, I'll call him." You took out your phone with clammy hands and dialed him. This was... unbelievable. The debt had been well above six figures. Each treatment was a few thousand dollars, with a month-long course going above thirty thousand. Not to mention the massive cost of the at-home medications she had to take multiple times per day that weren't covered by insurance. Your dad shouted with glee, saying he was going to order everyone pizza tonight. "Golly," he sounded on the verge of tears as well. "Looks like luck might be on our side."

As you helped your mom out of the clinic and into the car, your parents embraced each other and danced in place in the parking lot. Your mind was occupied, still in shock. If they had their balance paid, if all the costs coming up were covered, your dad's job at the school would be more than enough to sustain the family. Maybe they could even retire. He'd been saving up his 401k to pay off the balance in one lump sum, though he was only halfway there. It was nice to see them celebrating, but you had a strange feeling in your stomach. Who had it been? Who could have known? Your mother wasn't keeping her diagnosis a secret; many neighbors had been very supportive, and she had many friends who were decently well off that had helped your family when things got rough. But none of them had nearly enough money to do something like that.

As your dad pulled up to Domino's, it hit you like a ton of bricks. It had to be him. There was no other person who could afford it. But how had he known? Did he snoop? Did it even matter?

It had to be Bruce fucking Wayne.

Bruce dragged his pointer finger along the embossed lettering—LEMON LIME THC GUMMY. He was worn out, but could not possibly sleep. The night had been shockingly uneventful with only a few carjackings on his radar. Even the walkie talkie Gordon had lent him from the station was quiet. The night had ended early, yet he still felt tense with untapped energy. Pulling out his phone from his nightstand he Googled marijuana and sleep which elicited clear results: Cannabis may improve sleep quality by helping people fall asleep faster and wake up less often at night. Sigh. He checked the dosage instructions on the back of the tin and pulled off a small piece. Here goes nothing.

Immediately after swallowing he started to feel fearful. What if you had poisoned it? A final blow? Your last revenge? He pictured your eyes meeting his from the passenger side earlier that day. Again, I won't tell anyone. Promise. He thought your eyes were too kind not to mean it, but he still walked up the stairs over to Alfred's room. He was still up reading the paper when he walked in.

"Alfred, I'm gonna be taking some weed tonight." As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to scream with embarrassment. Here he was, in his late twenties, telling his guardian that he was talking drugs. Non lethal ones at that. Alfred peered up from over his papers with a small bit of surprise. Bruce had never shown interest in drugs before, and it felt a bit awkward, like he was admitting something terrible to a parent. He tried to make his reaction measured and interested. "Oh. Okay! Sounds... good!"

Bruce shifted his weight between feet, wanting to fall through the floor. He was still nervous of how he would react. Would his face melt? Would he have a panic attack, "Yeah. I'll be in my room." Alfred, having known him all his life, easily read between the lines.

"Do you want me to, check on you?" He paused halfway through, not wanting to come across condescending. Bruce seemed anxious. Alfred tried to smile at him. The kid averted his gaze. "I got them from Y/N. They're just for sleep." He turned to leave as Alfred continued. "Okay. Uh, have a good rest."

Bruce mumbled "Thanks." before disappearing back to his room. He laid in waiting facing the ceiling with his arms crossed across his chest, looking small and worried. Why had he trusted you so implicitly? What if your kind words at the airport had been nothing more than a ruse? He needed to be smarter than that. And the crosswalk? How he'd almost hit someone? He couldn't believe it. You clouded his thoughts more than he'd even realized. You weren't stupid and he couldn't ignore the possibility that you knew exactly what you were doing. But what were you doing? You didn't like him. You left Gotham to care for your mother's returned cancer. You were so ready to rid yourself of the city. And he did believe you when you said you wouldn't tell anyone. You puzzled him.

He decided to take a hot shower to try and relieve some extra stress before the weed kicked in. The heat coaxed his muscles to relax, his shoulders to drop, and his eyes to close. He focused on the sounds of the water, the feeling of the soap on his tired, chronically injured body as his hands ran over his bruises. He forgot the time while he was in there, until he started feeling floaty. Blinking to try and shake the sensation, he stepped out of the shower and threw on a pair of sweats. He sat on the edge of his bed and felt its emptiness. His vision was slightly blurred, reminiscent of when he got hit too hard in the head. It wasn't as jarring as he was anticipating, and let himself relax back to his initial position staring up at the ceiling.

His walls were painted black, and that made him a bit nervous. Through his periphery he saw the empty darkness of his room and turned on his bedside lamp. The soft incandescent glow felt warm on his skin and he relaxed into it. Thoughts began creeping up at the edges of his mind. Your eyes gave it away. I don't know, I just knew. Your words fluttered around the room to dizziness. That was possibly the worst answer you could have given, knowing that unless he wanted to reduce visibility while fighting and wear some sort of glasses, he could be recognized any time. In the haze of his high he pictured himself in front of him. Bandaged, bruised, melancholic, isolated. His hair dark and in his eyes. It came to him akin to an epiphany: he needed to make himself more distinguishable from his nightlife. He looked like someone who might be Batman. How instantly you knew him. There had to be someone else like you. You weren't an anomaly, no, you couldn't be.

He got out his journal and started scribbling on the page.

Me now: dark, casual, isolated, angry, unfriendly, critical

Batman: dark, isolated, angry, unfriendly, critical

Too many similarities.

Then he wrote down the opposite: bright, fashionable, connected, easygoing, friendly

As his high peaked he looked out the window at the streets of his city. It hit him like a ton of bricks settling into the pit of his stomach. He needed to become a Wayne—public facing and more inconspicuous, he needed to create distance from the two halves of him. He needed to become so different as to practically gaslight the people of Gotham into discarding their suspicions as madness. He fell back onto the mattress. He couldn't hesitate.

He had to become Bruce fucking Wayne.

[tenrousei-kuroi]

Can you remember?

Regulus shook his head, the alcohol working its way through his system at an alarmingly fast pace. His memories of the days prior to waking up in this house were a jumbled mess of fear, research and planning. Unclear. Fuzzy. Blocked as though an iron door had shut on his mind. “I...I wouldn’t have,” he insisted in a voice barely above a whisper. “Sirius, you have to tell me everything, why...what did you find?”

But Sirius wasn’t listening to him. He’d sauntered to his feet and over to the window, staring pensively out towards the ocean, one hand loose in his pocket, the other cradling his glass. “I picked this house out especially for you,” he said wistfully, talking on as though Regulus had never spoken. “Because you’ve always loved the ocean.”

Regulus frowned. “I’ve only been to the seaside once. Before Hogwarts. I...I nearly drowned.” Regulus could almost feel the pulsating waves against his skin as the ocean from his childhood memories crept up on him.

“Oh, I remember,” Sirius said with a small grin. “Mother and Father were drunk off brandy back at the pier and you went under. Damn near dusk, the water black...but I saw you.”

Sirius was back standing next to Regulus in what felt like an instant. Regulus blinked nervously, setting down his glass and putting a hand over his heart, which was racing faster...faster…

“And I pulled you back up.”

it’s an old, rushed piece and at least once a week my brain screams to rewrite the entire thing

“Pull it back up”, if you will

[cakes-are-great]

They're brothers your honor

[paul-ster]

Hated by Life Itself 🧸

Aka a fic I was SUPPOSED to finish and post after The Calm Before the Storm 😭 Plans changed yall. But I still wanted to put out the first chapter here at least so that I can be reminded that this fic exists :3

This fic mentions self harm and covers sensitive subjects. It gets graphic in this small excerpt, so if you are weary about those kinds of subjects, please scroll. I don’t want anyone to get hurt by anything I write :(

Ponyboy was only five when he first saw his dad doing it. He had needed to use the bathroom, and being five, he didn’t have the best patience skills. So, instead of knocking and waiting, he threw open the door. Mr.Curtis was on the toilet seat, except, he wasn’t using the bathroom.

He came face to face with Mr.Curtis, who seemed to have been crying. Eyes wide, Mr.Curtis grabbed Ponyboy's arm and shoved him in. He slammed the door shut, looking at Ponyboy as if Ponyboy was a threat to him. Ponyboy's eyes were also wide and his breathing stopped. On the toilet seat, Mr.Curtis had a razor to his thigh as blood dripped from a straight line. The blood beaded before gently falling to the side, almost sickening Ponyboy.

Ponyboy tried to avert his eyes from the grotesque scene in front of him. The sight of Mr.Curtis’s blood falling to the floor seemed to embed itself in his head. But, he couldn’t deny his need to use the bathroom any longer. “Daddy… potty,” Ponyboy said, kicking his legs a bit. Mr.Curtis still looked shell-shocked, but nodded, picking himself up and letting Ponyboy use the bathroom.

“Now you don’t tell anyone ‘bout this, okay little colt?” Mr.Curtis said as he ruffled Ponyboy's hair. The tears had seemed to magically disappear on Mr.Curtis’s face, but the blood on the floor hadn't disappeared. Ponyboy nodded, more so happy that he was able to use the restroom. Still, even when he had finished, he looked at his dad.

“Why do you do that?” His voice was barely audible and squeaky. Mr.Curtis felt a pang of regret as he tried to explain. Knowing that if he kept it a secret from Ponyboy, then Pony would tell his mom about it. And Mr.Curtis had already lied to her and told her that he quit…

“Sometimes daddy gets real stressed,” Mr.Curtis explained. “It’s something that only adults do, okay?” Ponyboy nodded, starting to fear the day that he got older and real stressed. Mr.Curtis drilled it into his head to never tell anyone about it. And Ponyboy knew what would happen if he did tell anyone… Still, he promised to Mr.Curtis that he would never do anything like that, and was sent on his way.

Ponyboy would’ve never said it was a main memory of his childhood. He would prefer to say that the main thing he remembered was spending time with the gang and trying to be older than what he was. Still, the memory hung in the back of his mind, and he still remembered the other times he had caught his dad.

It didn't help when Ponyboy thought to act older. He would catch himself thinking about doing the same thing Mr.Curtis would do when he was stressed. After all, only adults did it- right? But every time he thought that he would remember the blood and having to help his dad. Not to mention the constant secretary that he had to keep up. Something that he was only barely able to hide from the gang and even his own mother.

He couldn’t forget the amount of times he saw his dad run out of the bathroom, without even flushing the toilet. Ponyboy knew that every time he had done that, it was because he was real stressed. But, he also knew that what Mr.Curtis was doing wasn’t okay for him.

It carried on for what felt like forever, up until Ponyboy was 12 when something else had happened. Ponyboy tried to sit on the couch to forget what he had seen. This time his dad messed up badly and had to use an unusual amount of gauze. The sight had sickened Ponyboy to the core, just about every time he had tried to forget and close his eyes, the images would pop up. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it, he just looked at the ceiling.

Sodapop and Steve came into the house, calling a greeting as the door slammed behind them. Ponyboy's mind was still in a daze, confused as to why his dad would do that. Mrs.Curtis followed in behind Steve, carrying many bags. She dropped them off before going over to Ponyboy.

“Where’s your father?” Mrs.Curtis asked. Ponyboy swallowed thickly, unsure if he should even answer. Yet, he found his mouth speaking before he could think. “In the bathroom.”

Mrs.Curtis nodded, her face making a weird expression as she walked to the bathroom. A twisting feeling came to Ponyboy, causing him to start to feel anxious. His dad had drilled it into him that he couldn’t tell anyone, not even his mom, about what he had saw. Ponyboy listened as his mom knocked on the bathroom door, and how his dad answered.

“Hey Pony,” Sodapop greeted as he walked to the couch. Ponyboy nodded a reply, his ears straining to hear the rest of his parents’ conversation. Yet, Sodapop was adamant about talking to Ponyboy. “Do anything fun?” Soda asked. Ponyboy shrugged, “No.”

Before Sodapop could ask anything else, Steve called out. “Soda, we goin’ to the races or what?” Soda looked at Ponyboy worriedly. “Go Soda,” Ponyboy encouraged, still trying to listen to his parents. All he could make out was that his mom was now angry. A sick feeling came to Ponyboy’s throat as he listened.

Sodapop walked out with Steve, not before ruffling Ponyboy's hair. As he left, he watched as Ponyboy continued to stare at the ceiling, as if listening for something.

“Ya good Soda?” Steve asked as they started walking to Bucks. Sodapop looked back at his house, watching as Darry drove by in their father's truck. “Didya think that there's somethin’ botherin’ Pony?” Sodapop asked. Before he could get an answer, Darry slowed down near the duo, rolling down a window.

“Need a ride?” Darry asked. Steve nodded for both Sodapop and himself. They got into the truck, with Sodapop beating his own record for the longest he’d been silent. Steve and Darry shared worried looks as Darry drove. “Is there somethin’ wrong little buddy?” Darry asked, finally breaking Sodapop out of his trance.

“There was somethin’ botherin’ Pony when I and Steve went home…” Sodapop finally admitted. Darry's eyebrows furrowed, “Did he tell ya what it was?” Sodapop shook his head, glancing over to Steve. Steve shrugged.

“He was quiet but more quiet than usual,” Sodapop added. He looked out to the road, “It ain't like him to be that quiet.” Darry set a firm hand on Sodapops shoulders, trying to reassure him. “Maybe his head just got lost in a good book?”

Sodapop nodded, knowing that it wasn't the reason. But, he knew Steve wasn't going to like it if the reason he couldn't enjoy watching the races all because of his worry for Ponyboy. Pushing the fear aside, Sodapop plastered on a smile, pretending to think that Ponyboy was okay. After all- what did he have to be so worried about?

~

Ponyboy continued to sit on the couch until his mom and dad rushed past him. He stood up expectantly as his mom ushered his dad out of the house. Mr.Curtis seemed to be losing his balance, something that Ponyboy had never seen before.

He looked up to Mr.Curtis in an idolistic way. Seeing him weak sent an unknown pang of fear through Ponyboy. Mrs.Curtis tried to give him a reassuring smile but it fell short. Ponyboy watched as they both left the house leaving in their other car. The silence afterward felt like needles prickling under Ponyboy's skin as he sat back down on the couch.

For a moment he tried to understand what he saw. Did his mom know now? Was Mr.Curtis angry with the fact that she knew now? Or was he okay with it, thinking that maybe it was what was best? The thoughts swirled in Ponyboy's head as he shakily made his way to the kitchen. Before he could fully make it, he tripped on the bags.

With a “plan,” Ponyboy started to distract himself. He didn't want to think about his dad or anything in general. The earlier sight had still stuck with Ponyboy, embedding itself in his head to the point that he couldn't think of anything else. In easier terms, he was stressed.

And what do self-proclaimed adults do when stressed?

Ponyboy found himself in the same position his dad was in. The razor was pressed to his skin, something that he’d never thought he’d do. He felt his breath start to fasten as the razor slowly dragged-

“Is anyone home?” A voice yelled out through the house. Ponyboy froze, flinching at the pain and the sound of the voice. He heard as the voice kept calling out, but kept getting closer to the bathroom. A simple knock on the door was all he needed to quickly hide the evidence and open the bathroom door.

Two-Bit just looked at Ponyboy shocked when he came out. “Well I’ll be, I ain't never think ya to hide in the bathroom when your buddy comes!” Two-Bit exclaimed as he followed Ponyboy. Ponyboy made his way to the living room again, almost ashamed of what he did. The stinging pain in part of his thigh burned along his jeans as he walked.

He almost wanted to call himself weak for not being able to handle the small bout of pain. A part of him was surprised that his dad was able to do it easily without even flinching when his mom touched his thigh. But, he knew that he had to ignore it for now, at least until Two-Bit left. Yet, as time went on, it seemed as if Two-Bit was never going to leave.

“Kid?” Two-Bit's voice finally cut through Ponyboy's thoughts. He looked up, watching as Two-Bit walked up to him. “Wheres your mom and dad?” Two-Bit finally asked. Time felt as if it slowed down right then. All Ponyboy could think about was the sight he saw before with Mr.Curtis and the one that included Mrs.Curtis ushering Mr.Curtis out of the house. All because Ponyboy didn't tell anyone.

Ponyboy bit his lip, he didn't want to tell Two-Bit, mostly because of his loyalty to his dad. So, he found himself shrugging and getting up to make dinner. Two-Bit watched him carefully, almost as if Ponyboy was going to simply pass out on the floor. Ponyboy couldn't deny that he did feel like that. But, there was something else weighing on him to make him feel like that…

~

The familiar cheer of the crowd excited Sodapop. He loved every moment of it, the sounds, the conversations, and even the random fights that would happen. Darry and Steve stood nearby him, with Johnny making an appearance. Sodapop felt a pang of worry hit him as Johnny settled with the other three.

Dallas was racing, something that he was excellent at. Steve joked around, talking about how Dally probably rigged his horse on coke or something. It was enough to make the small group laugh for a moment before the gun went off. When it did, they watched in anticipation until finally, Dally's horse went through first.

Yells erupted in the crowd as people passed over lost money. The excitement should've been enough to push Sodapops mind off of his baby brother but it wasn't. He found himself starting to panic, thinking about what Ponyboy was stressed about. When the time finally came to go home, Sodapop never felt better.

“Two-Bit’s here?” Darry asked as he parked the truck. Everyone was in there, even Dally and Johnny. Sodapop felt a pang of relief go through him as he thought about Two-Bit watching over Ponyboy. However, he also noticed that his parents weren't there.

Quickly Sodapop ran into the house. He looked around and quickly saw Two-Bit and Ponyboy just having dinner. Relief washed over him as he walked up to Ponyboy. Ponyboy seemed different still, almost as if he wasn't fully there in the moment. Darry gave Sodapop a concerned look as Sodapop tried to talk to Ponyboy.

After a few futile attempts at conversation, Sodapop just decided to eat some dinner with Ponyboy. Darry looked around for a moment, catching the sight of their parents being gone. “Wheres mom and dad?” Darry asked, settling down with his own serving of food. Once again the fear seemed to build up in Ponyboy as he looked to Two-Bit for help.

Two-Bit just shrugged, “They were gone ‘fore I got ‘ere.” Darry nodded, catching a look as Ponyboy put his head lower. He refused to meet anyones eyes, something not too peculiar…

Once they were finished with dinner, they all started to mess around in the living room. Somehow Steve had gotten Ponyboy to talk, mostly to give rude retorts. Darry found himself feeling relieved as his baby brother seemed to start acting more and more like himself. Then, the front door opened.

Mr and Mrs.Curtis walked in, with Mrs.Curtis carefully holding up Mr.Curtis. Instantly Darry and Sodapop were trying to help them, careful with how they spoke. Ponyboy followed along, trying to see what had happened with his dad. Yet, Mrs.Curtis ushred them away, only asking for Ponyboy to stay.

Mr.Curtis sat on his bed as Mrs.Curtis went to make sure no one broke anything in her living room. Ponyboy shifted his weight on his feet as he looked at his dad. His dad looked tired, but also the familiar glint in his eyes stayed. It made Ponyboy feel uneasy though.

Usually, Ponyboy never got in trouble. And if he did, it was usually petty crimes. Yet, he felt as if he had just committed the worst crime. In a way- he did. He had betrayed his father's trust. Before Ponyboy could get any words out, Mr.Curtis just shook his head.

“Remember what I said Ponyboy,” Mr.Curtis said as he patted his lap. Ponyboy knew what was coming and so he put his head down and walked over. “You know what happens when you betray someone's trust?” Mr.Curtis asked, his voice booming in a way that only Ponyboy could hear. It scared Ponyboy to his very bone as he nodded…

It wasn't fun for Ponyboy but- he did learn something. Never to tell anyone what happened, or what he saw. Another thing he learned: was how to “deal” with stress, the Curtis way.

But he’d never do it.

Right?

[powerful-niya]

— (вεтωεεη υs.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚hαppч nαruhínα mσnth єvєrчσnє!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝟷: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 + 𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗 - (𝙽𝙷𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝟸𝟹)

Link To Oneshot Below ↴

Wattpad | AO3

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡If you had to choose between doing what you love and being with who you love, could you make that choice?

Naruto and Hinata, the top figure skating duo from Japan, have effortlessly conquered every challenge they've encountered on the ice together. But now, they're up against a new challenge—one that's found in their hearts, rather than on the ice.

This challenge is a love unplanned—a love constrained by a strict contract, putting them both in a very difficult position.

Regular Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Caught In The Rain • Competitive Skating • Competitive Sports • Contract • Contractual Obligations • Costumes • Drama • December 28 • December 31 • Figure Skating • Forbidden Love • Friends To Lovers • Heavy Angst • Hurt & Comfort• Ice Skating • Love Confessions • Modern AU • Mutual Pining • Partner Skaters • Pretending • Professional Skaters • Romance • Sports AU • Stolen Glances • Tryst • Unplanned Love • Work Partners to Lovers • 2023. 

NSFW Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Body Worship • Bus Sex • Butt Groping • Celebrity Bus • Cock Worship • Couch Sex • Dirty Talk • Desperation • Desperation Sex • Fantasies & Fantasizing • Flexibility • Longing • Loss of control • Love Making (at first) • Marathon sex • Multiple Orgasms • Overstimulation • Praise Kink • Pussy Worship • Riding • Rough sex (soon after) • Sex in a crisis situation • Size Difference Kink • Spanking • Stripping • Striptease • Stockings • Unprotected Sex  • Vaginal Sex  • 2023. 

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚17.1K

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚4.3K

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Pretending can be a tricky game. 

For some people, it's a breeze—they can slip in and out of different personas as easily as flipping a switch, putting on a convincing act at the drop of a hat or a snap of their fingers. 

Some people actually have a closet full of masks for their pretending, ready to wear whichever one fits the moment perfectly to hide behind. They switch between these masks as easily as changing clothes, effortlessly adapting to any situation like it's second nature.

Like if it was nothing, nothing at all. 

For others, pretending is a struggle—a constant effort that takes a lot of trial and error before they finally get the hang of it.

But for Naruto, pretending wasn't just difficult. It wasn't a minor bump in the road he'd get over soon. It wasn't something he'd get used to or get good at with time or a bit more effort.

No. 

He didn't have the luxury of switching between masks or hiding behind them whenever he wanted, like some people. Pretending wasn't a game or something he did for fun—it was a draining, relentless battle that wore him down every single day.

Pretending was, without a doubt, the hardest thing Naruto had ever faced—the toughest challenge he'd ever had to endure.

And he'd faced plenty of challenges.

As one of the top Japanese male ice skaters in the world, he'd been put through the wringer more times than he could count.

Countless hours of grueling practice, intense competitions, and crushing expectations had pushed him to his limits time and time again, demanding that he give nothing less than his absolute best. 

Each session was a test of endurance for him, and every routine was a shot for him to outshine the competition.

After all, Naruto was a pretty driven man, always pushing himself past the limits set by others to prove himself and excel. And on top of the grueling physical demands, he also had to confront the doubts cast on him as a male skater—doubts that seemed to shadow every step he took.

It was tough. 

Really tough. 

Every time he laces up his skates and hits the ice, he's up against a challenge. But it's one he actually enjoys—the ice, the skating, the music, the cheers, the sweat, the exhaustion, and, most of all, proving everyone wrong.

He loves proving all the doubters wrong—naysayers who said he couldn't do it and the debbie downers who whined that ice skating was a women's sport. 

Naruto even gets a kick out of showing up the critics who claimed he was confused about his identity, out of touch with himself, and that ice skating made him less of a man.

Indeed, proving those people wrong by doing what he loved was fun.

Naruto has spent countless hours on the ice—skating was all he'd ever known, the rhythm of the blades, the chill of the rink, and the thrill of the performance were deeply ingrained in him. Every glide and spin had become second nature, an integral part of who he was.

But there was one thing that stood apart from all of that…

Or rather, one person.

Hinata Hyūga. 

His skating partner.

Naruto stood in the designated waiting area near the rink, his eyes fixed on her as she skated across the ice gracefully. He watched Hinata from the sidelines, waiting for his cue, the precise moment when the music would signal him to join Hinata on the rink.

But for now, it was just her. Just Hinata.

And Naruto watched her in awe. 

He was always in awe of her. 

The blonde skater watched almost in a trance as his partner performed with her opening solo for the prestigious "ISU Grand Prix Of Figure Skating" in Hollywood, LA, California. 

The intensity of the competition was palpable, and the stakes had never felt higher.

The entire arena was hushed, with only the soft scraping of her white skates on the ice, the sweeping classical music, and the occasional gasps and murmurs from the crowd breaking the silence. Every spectator, even the judges, held their breath, captivated by Hinata's mesmerizing performance, all eyes glued to the rink.

Naruto's included.

Hinata's costume dress was a breathtaking piece, its fabric fluttering around her like the delicate feathers of a swan gliding through a gentle breeze. The lights from the arena overhead danced off the glittering embellishments of her costume, causing her dress to shimmer and shine. 

Her costume was the perfect fit to the competition theme: Black Swan. 

Hinata's dress was a striking blend of black and white, split down the middle. The left side was a deep, velvety black, adorned with shimmering sequins that caught the arena's light with every move she made. 

The right side of her dress was a pristine, snowy white, contrasting beautifully with the dark side, adorned with tiny sparkles and swirls. 

Her long gloves followed the same theme, one black and one white, each decorated with delicate sparkles that extended from her hands up to her forearms, matching her dress perfectly. Her usually long, midnight blue hair was elegantly styled into a neat bun on the top of her head, completing her flawless look for the competition. 

Naruto wore a matching outfit to hers, of course. 

He wore a one-piece costume that began with a pristine white at the top, gradually transitioning into a deep black down his toned torso and legs, with white swirls accentuating the color shift.

His right sleeve was all white, while his left sleeve was solid black, creating a striking contrast similar to Hinata's costume.

His costume fit the theme, sure, and it matched his partner's costume, but it was nowhere near as spectacular as Hinata's.

No way.

Hinata seemed to nail the theme perfectly, gliding in sync with the music—a classic piece that everyone would surely recognize.

"Swan Lake" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. 

She surely embodied a swan, her every movement smooth and graceful, just like a swan gliding effortlessly across a lake. The way she floated across the ice, her costume shimmering with each turn, made it look as if she was dancing on air.

Naruto couldn't help but be completely mesmerized by how beautifully Hinata brought the theme to life. 

She was utterly breathtaking.

Graceful yet powerful—that's how Hinata always skated. 

Watching her was like peering straight into her soul with each performance.

She poured everything into her routine. 

She always did. 

From her delicate facial expressions to the emotions that flowed through her movements, and the graceful sweep of her arms as they reached out and then drew back—each performance was a stunning story told through her skating.

This time was no different.

As Hinata performed her solo tonight, she told a powerful story about the strength that comes from being vulnerable. Her movements to the music spoke of the courage it takes to expose one's true self, capturing the delicate balance between strength and authenticity.

It was truly extraordinary.

And on top of that, Hinata made the routine they'd been perfecting for months—through countless rehearsals, late nights, and early mornings—look so damn effortless. 

Hinata glided smoothly from one move to the next, transitioning seamlessly between spins and jumps, just as they had practiced together, just as she had come to memorize down to the finest detail.

Her spins were flawless. 

Naruto watched in awe as she effortlessly transitioned into a fast-paced layback spin, finishing with a graceful camel spin that left delicate circular marks on the ice. 

Her jumps were just as stunning, with perfect double axels and triple lutzes that had her soaring and spinning through the air, leaving the crowd breathless.

She landed on her blades with a satisfying clank each time, back on her feet like a true professional.

Hinata nailed every move flawlessly, putting on a jaw-dropping performance that would definitely set the bar high for the other skaters and likely earn them both some serious points with the judges.

But Naruto wasn't thinking about the competition at all. 

He wasn't thinking about their potential scores. He wasn't concerned about the judges' opinions or even his routine when it was his turn to join Hinata on the ice.

No, he wasn't thinking about any of that.

Naruto's focus was solely on her, the woman dazzling him from the ice, whose lavender eyes occasionally met his own. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Frequently, Hinata glanced at him as she danced across the rink, her lavender eyes seeking him out from the waiting area, hidden from the audience.

Each time their eyes locked—deep blue meeting soft lavender—it felt like the world around them melted further and further into a blur…

…until it was just the two of them. 

The audience's loud wows and awes, the judges' scrutinizing looks, the flashing cameras, the bright arena lights, the announcer's voices, and even the stadium itself—all of it just faded away.

It was only them—just them.

And soon enough, Hinata wasn't skating for the crowd but for…

…him.

It was always like this between them: fleeting, longing but secretive looks where their gazes created warm, private moments just for them. 

Every time they performed together, whenever their hands touched or their bodies brushed close, they were drawn into a private world of their own making. 

Those looks they exchanged, every second of every day, were a silent yearning for something they both desired but couldn't fully embrace—a longing that always seemed just out of reach.

Naruto couldn't ignore what he felt. He couldn't pretend. 

Sure, he could try. 

Sure, he could push his feelings aside. He could convince himself that what he felt was just a passing phase, and that he will just get over it soon. 

Sure, he could try to act like it didn't bother him and play along, but deep down, he knew he'd only be lying to himself.

The feelings he had been struggling with for so long were impossible to ignore now.

A mistake that's come to consume him. 

When Naruto first teamed up with Hinata, he signed a contract that was clear about one thing: no intimate relationships. 

As long as he pursued ice skating professionally with a partner, he wasn't allowed to fall in love or let emotions get in the way of his career.

He knew that.

They both did. 

Naruto always understood what he was signing up for, knew the strict rules, and was clear on what was expected of him.

Because of this, he knew he shouldn't be feeling this way and was fully aware of the risks of letting these emotions take over. He knew exactly how his coach would react if she found out—what she'd do if she discovered his secret.

Their secret. 

Naruto knew the stakes. 

If their secret were ever discovered, it would mean the end of their figure skating careers.

Everything they'd worked so hard for—the endless hours of practice, the sacrifices made, the competitions won, the fame they'd gained, and their very dreams—were at risk of being ruined.

All because love had somehow crept in and gotten in the way.

Suddenly, the music built to a crescendo, growing louder and louder all around, snapping Naruto out of his thoughts.

His cue to take the ice. 

"Damn it," He muttered, shaking his head to snap himself out of it. That was a mistake—a big one. 

He couldn't afford to space out. 

Not here. 

Not now.

He took a deep, steadying breath, pushing aside the swirling thoughts and annoying emotions that clung to him. 

Then he exhaled, letting it all go.

It's showtime. 

Naruto rubbed his hands together to shake off the tension, and took one more calming breath.

"Here goes." He whispered to himself, before finally, darting out onto the ice.

The icy chill of the arena hit Naruto instantly, chilling his face, body, and legs. The cold air blended with the crisp, slippery feel of the ice beneath his skates. 

Naruto could never grow tired of it—the ice. It was a feeling so familiar, as natural as breathing to him at this point. Every time he stepped onto it, it felt like reconnecting with an old friend he always looked forward to seeing again.

And it felt that way now. 

His taut calf muscles tightened with each powerful push he gave his legs, his black skates carving a swift, graceful path across the ice.

The ice hummed a satisfying, almost musical whisper under Naruto's skates, grounding him in the moment. He mentally rehearsed his routine, syncing with it as he joined Hinata on the rink.

Hinata was already in position, gliding effortlessly across the ice toward him. In that moment, Naruto could see nothing but her—her radiant smile, the rosy flush on her cheeks from the cold, and the sparkle in her lavender eyes. 

He met her in the center of the rink with a big grin, and they seamlessly slipped into a synchronized spin. They twirled around each other, close yet so far. 

They didn't touch—just gazed at each other, eyes locked the whole time. 

Blue meeting lavender, once again.

The sight of Naruto and Hinata finally skating together, their chemistry ignited instantly, sending fireworks of excitement across the entire arena. Their connection was evident even on the arena's TVs, causing the crowd to instantly erupt into a frenzy. 

Gasps and cheers merged into a collective roar that filled the entire space.

The announcers, just as thrilled, could barely contain their excitement over the intercom.

"And here he comes, folks—Naruto Uzumaki, joining his partner Hinata Hyūga after her stunning introductory solo!"

"The way they connect is absolutely breathtaking. Just so breathtaking. This is partner skating at its finest, and we are in for a treat tonight, folks!"

Now together, Naruto and Hinata instantly transitioned into their routine, as they'd done it a million times before.

Just for this moment. 

Hinata took the lead, maintaining their synchronized spin as she gracefully lifted one arm to the rhythm of the music, watching as Naruto mirrored her movements flawlessly. His arm swept down and up above his head in a sweeping arc, just like hers, as if she were looking into a mirror.

She moved her other arm the same way, and Naruto followed suit. 

Next, Hinata extended her hand toward him this time, her fingers forming a dramatic claw before slowly curling into a fist as she pulled away, and Naruto mirrored her.

But they never quite touched. 

Each time they reached, they always pulled back. 

Reach. Retreat. Reach. 

Closer and closer, but never quite touching. 

Like a cycle. 

A painful one.

This part of their routine always spoke to them. It shouldn't have—really. It shouldn't have had any impact on them, but..

…it did. 

It perfectly mirrored the feelings they had for each other, always managing to leave a poignant ache in their hearts—a longing for something they both wanted but couldn't have.

No matter how many times they repeated it. 

No matter how many times they practiced it.

The ache remains.

Naruto's eyes revealed such pain, such raw emotion as he watched Hinata glide backward from the center of the rink, moving away from him and further along the ice.

She kept her knees slightly bent, her legs extending and crossing each other like the delicate sway of a ballet's legs. Her skates traced elegant arcs on the ice as she spiraled backward, leaving a long trail behind. 

But even as Hinata drifted away from Naruto, her hand stretched out toward him, her eyes pleading for him to take it. 

Naruto followed her, reaching back.

His arm stretched out through the cold air, determined to bridge the gap between them.

They reached for each other, incorporating a few individual spins where they spun perfectly in sync, even landing together, before turning and reaching out again.

They drew out the moment for dramatic effect, with Hinata gliding smoothly backward and Naruto advancing just enough until their hands finally….

…met.

But when their hands finally touched, it seemed to ignite a powerful rush of warmth that pulsed through their gloves and into their palms like a heartbeat, spreading through their bodies in soothing waves.

The sensation felt incredible—better than anything they had experienced before. 

They had touched countless times, but this..

This was different.

The moment Naruto's large fingers slid between the gaps of Hinata's smaller ones, and curled around her hand, a deep, unparalleled warmth unfurled in both of their hearts. 

The surprising intensity of the warmth made them both gasp softly. Their fingers instinctively tightened around each other, the connection so strong and reassuring that they couldn't bear to let go. 

Not now.

Not so soon. 

Keeping her hand in his, Naruto guided Hinata's arm over her head and twisted her in a graceful spin perfectly in sync with the music. He skated himself over in a smooth glide, positioning himself directly behind her like her shadow. 

Close behind her, he began sliding his hands gently along her arms, and Hinata couldn't hold back the slight moan that escaped her lips. 

Naruto touched her now, and he took it slow.

Along her chest, his gloved fingers brushed the fabric of her costume, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. His hands moved down the gentle curve of her torso, tracing the contours of her muscles, and he felt her body react to his touch almost instantly, with soft shivers and quivers.

Finally, his hands reached her waist, holding her hips firmly yet gently.

Even in the cold of the stadium, with a chill all around them, Hinata felt warm beneath his fingertips.

She was savoring the moment, just as she always did, whenever she was in Naruto's arms.

His touch was always gentle, but now, to Hinata, it felt almost heightened. Every brush of his fingers felt like a trail of fire on her skin, each caress sending electric shivers down her spine.

It was like time slowed to a crawl, and all she could feel was Naruto.

His breath as it brushed against her ears and cheeks, warm and steady. The heat of his toned body as it pressed so close to hers, making her acutely aware of every inch of him...

And his touch...

Hinata always treasured the moments when Naruto touched her. 

Those fleeting instances when his hands met her skin always seem to send a delightful warmth coursing through her body, radiating like a beacon. Whether his strong yet gentle hands glided along her arms, gripped her hips, or lifted her into the air, a soothing, irresistible heat enveloped her whenever he made contact with…her body.

It shouldn't have felt this way, but it did—like a perfect antidote to her touch-starved dreams.

Hinata glanced back at him with a breathless look that made Naruto's heart skip a beat. Her lavender eyes drew him in every time, their expressiveness saying more than words ever could. 

And as he gazed into them now, they seemed to speak to him, whispering…

"Please touch me more, Naruto-kun. Touch me."

It was a gentle, unspoken plea, a tender whisper in her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him, standing tall behind her.

Naruto bit his lip. 

Truly, he wished he could touch her more. 

Her body always responded so beautifully to his touch, expanding and contracting as if he were the air she breathed, always returning to him with a graceful, magnetic pull. It was intoxicating.

He craved more. He craved—

The blonde skater took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Again. 

Reluctant as he was, and how good it was to hold Hinata, he knew he had to put an end to it.

After all, this was a serious competition.

With that realization, Naruto broke away from their intimate moment, shaking off the titillating effect of touching Hinata, and his expression turned serious again. He refocused and shifted his attention to the next part of their routine. 

But when he did, it seemed as if time snapped back to its usual pace, flowing normally like it did for everyone else.

Naruto grasped her waist firmly, and as if on cue, Hinata bent her knees, poised and ready, just like he was. 

The split-second cue he had been waiting for.

With a smooth lift, he sent her soaring into the air in a high twist. Her dress billowed out around her in a perfect spiral, drawing gasps from the crowd as it fluttered like a blooming flower.

Naruto watched as she flew high into the air, spinning gracefully. And in that quick moment, he caught a glimpse of her smile. 

There was an unspoken trust in that smile, a deep trust in him. Because she knew that whenever she fell, he'd always be there to catch her.

Just like now. 

As Hinata began her descent, Naruto was ready. He lifted his arms high and, with practiced precision, caught her around the waist.

He felt that familiar rush of relief and joy, knowing Hinata was secure in his hands after her aerial stunt. Safe and sound. 

Naruto held her close for a moment, savoring the warmth of her body against his, before gently lowering her back to the ice.

As they continued skating together, the audience seemed to blur further and further away until it was only the two of them, as if no one else existed. 

They looked into each other's eyes and suddenly...

Time didn't matter.

The competition didn't matter.

The judges or their scores didn't matter.

It was just them.

Just like in all their performances, Naruto and Hinata stunned the crowd with their chemistry. They moved together on the ice with such closeness, showing raw emotion through their every move and expression that the audience could actually feel. 

It left everyone breathless. 

The music was captivating from start to finish, flowing through every part of their routine. Every spin, every lift, and every glide of their skates across the ice, the music was there, as if guiding them. 

Hinata's grace paired perfectly with Naruto's strength, like yin and yang. Their choreography, whether synchronized or solo, blended together on the ice, revealing not just their countless hours of practice but also the deep understanding they shared. 

Their love. 

It was evident, no matter how hard they tried to hide it.

Their synchronicity was almost magical, like they were of one mind, one body, one soul. 

When Hinata jumped, Naruto was right there to catch her. 

When she spun, he spun, matching her moves perfectly. 

Whenever she reached for him, he was always ready to clasp her hand and guide her.

There was no escaping what they felt. 

The longer their performance went on, that feeling between them seemed to intensify.

It was new and exhilarating, different from anything they had felt before in previous performances or practices, as if it began anew the moment they first touched tonight.

Every time their hands touched or their eyes locked, that feeling inside them just kept growing stronger.

But reality would ruin it for them each time, reminding them that no matter how strong their feelings were, they couldn't act on them.

They couldn't.

They shouldn't.

They…

Hinata couldn't take it anymore. 

As their routine continued, she began to feel the full weight of everything. 

The unspoken feelings she'd been holding in, the constant longing to be close to Naruto, and the pressure to maintain their perfect image—it was all starting to overwhelm her.

She'd managed to keep it together for so long, but even she had her limits.

Tonight, she reached her breaking point.

As they approached the end of their performance, instead of the usual thrill that would sweep over her, she was overwhelmed by a deep, profound sadness.

Naruto sensed it immediately. 

He knew her too well not to notice. 

As the music began to wind down and the final chords echoed through the arena, he drew her into a tight embrace at the center of the rink. Their bodies were pressed close, the warmth of their breath mingling with the chilly air. Their faces were so close he could feel her every breath on his skin, and their eyes met, saying everything words couldn't express.

They held their position, panting and sweating, mostly satisfied, until the last notes of the music faded into silence.

But as soon as the music ended, the applause from the crowd surged through the stadium, a thunderous wave of sound that echoed endlessly in their ears.

With that, Naruto and Hinata reluctantly pulled away, masking their true feelings behind the broad smiles they had perfected and displayed time and time again.

They waved to the audience and the flashing cameras, even taking a hand-in-hand bow to mark the end of their performance.

The announcers' voices boomed through the speaker in no time, hyping up their performance with excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what a show! Let's hear it for Japan's premier ice skating duo, Naruto Uzumaki and Hinata Hyūga! 

"Give these two a big round of applause for another unforgettable performance!"

The announcers gave them one last shout-out, showering them with praise and cheers that would've made Hinata feel overjoyed on another day—grateful, accomplished even. 

But not now.

She didn't know what had came over her.

She didn't know why she had done it. 

Yet, she turned to Naruto, her face showing a sadness she couldn't keep hidden anymore. Her eyes, usually so bright and joyful, were now clouded with a deep sorrow that instantly wiped the smile from Naruto's face. 

And before he could even speak, to react even, she spoke to him, whispered to him. 

She whispered one word, and he heard it clearly. 

"Gomennasai."

Hinata let go of his hand and sped off across the ice, leaving him behind before he could say a single word. 

He gasped and reached out toward her retreating figure.

"H-Hinata-chan!" Naruto called out, but she didn't respond. She didn't turn back or slow down; she just kept skating, moving further and further away from him until she vanished through the designated gate leading backstage.

The blonde stood there, frozen, as the cheers of the crowd faded into the background. Yet, even now, he could still feel the warmth of Hinata's touch lingering in his outstretched palm.

Naruto frowned.

'Pretending is difficult for you too, isn't it, Hinata-chan?'

Continue Reading On Wattpad Or AO3.

— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)

[hunterevie]

Sometimes I want to do this to my boyfriend’s coffee 🫢.

[lovenmaze]

“A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.”

Naruto. Beautiful and kind Naruto. He wouldn’t think badly of Sasuke, right? He wouldn’t think he was vulnerable, weak, selfish, or desperate. No, the Naruto he knows wouldn’t do that. Not his Naruto.

Sasuke softens at that, and tries; “Naruto? I- Can you touch me? Not the– just.. I just need physical contact. To ground myself. I–”

Naruto looks at him quite shocked, Sasuke doesn’t usually ask things like that. Sasuke tenses upon seeing his reaction, but Naruto quickly replies, “Hey, hey, it’s okay, nothing weird, don’t worry. You okay with holding hands?”

Sasuke inhales, then nods.

Naruto smiles and takes his hand.

He looks at their intertwined hands, it’s everything. Sasuke is holding the sun in his remaining hand, perhaps his other hand was a sacrifice for this. But it’s still not enough.

He wants to bind their bodies together, sew their bones tight, and take a bite of each other’s heart, like a ritual done in front of an altar, with a god as their witness.

Sasuke tries to calm down, but the thing within him can’t stay put, his blood is rushing, like a stormy sea; it’s maddening. The heat of Naruto’s hand is passing to Sasuke’s, his usually cold body melts under the touch. The hand of the person who saved him is within his grasp, gentle and heavy; it will ground him, warm him, and care for him. Sasuke would bleed himself open if he could if that meant showing Naruto his heart, which was so full of – Naruto, that he could hardly call it his own.

Sasuke’s heart picks up its pace, his chest tightens, and so does his grip on Naruto’s hand.

“Sasuke? You okay?” Naruto asks, Sasuke turns to look at him. It’s so blue, Sasuke could drown in them. He could never forget those eyes, he’d see them when looking up at the sky, or when he closed his.

Sasuke doesn’t say anything, he just stares at Naruto, and then at his lips.

Naruto notices, and licks his lips. God, Sasuke wants to get a taste; kiss him so that he can leave a mark, a mark on his lips, so when Naruto talks, his name will be there.

Sasuke must’ve stared for a while, because Naruto shifts and stares back, and suddenly Sasuke is so aware of the eyes on him. And just as Sasuke was about to say something, “Can I kiss you, Sasuke?” Naruto asks.

Shock evident on Sasuke’s face, Naruto panics “Oh, haha! Never mind, sorry, forget I sa–” Sasuke doesn’t even let him finish, instead allowing his lips to meet Naruto’s.

The buzzing in him is louder this time, turning into a melody, a song singing Naruto’s name.

The buzzing mellowed down and turned into a gentle humming, like a sigh of relief, finally. Finally.

It’s a kiss, Sasuke realizes. Fuck, they’re kissing. The two melt into the kiss, and warmth spreads all over Sasuke. It was slow, soft, tender; and everything.

Sasuke never thought of kissing, the act itself didn’t appeal much to him. And yet he’s here, kissing Naruto, and everything feels right; puzzle pieces slowly unraveling a masterpiece, a masterpiece of them. He feels Naruto place his other hand on his cheek, the other still intertwined with his, they’re both afraid of letting go.

Sasuke feels himself slip out of Naruto’s touch, weakened and overpowered by the feel of him. The kiss is slowly unraveling Sasuke, thread by thread, until he’s naked to the bone, revealing his beating heart.

In the heat of the moment, Sasuke thinks about their first kiss, it was a childish and silly accident, while this, was everything he had wanted. It’s so much — too much, and yet it isn’t enough, something in him wants more — he wants more. He wants everything Naruto can offer, and Sasuke, lets out a small noise, Naruto is everything.

Their lips find their way towards each other, they crash and collide; they glide against each other like a dance shared by two lovers; or a language only the moon and sun spoke of, like an eclipse.

They grew up thinking they were made for violence, but maybe this is what they were made for. To love and cherish each other, to kiss each other.

They pull apart, and Naruto groans, hands now making their way to Sasuke’s body. Sasuke relaxes in his touch, something he does with Naruto.

“God, I love kissing you,” Naruto says, breathless.

So do I, Sasuke thinks. He really does.

“It’s like you're made for me, fuck, I-sorry- it’s just-”

Sasuke gets what Naruto is saying, even though he isn’t saying anything, he doesn’t have to.

A beat.

They look at each other, they’re alive. So alive.

Naruto kisses him deeply and slowly, I can taste him, Sasuke thinks, See, he’s alive, he’s on my lips and he’s here with me, he’s alive, he’s alive! We’re alive.

As if both had realized they were alive and together; they reconnect their lips again, but this time with a sense of urgency; like they’re making up for the time they’ve lost. Their slow and careful kisses were now quick and sloppy, and the room was getting hotter.

Need and want are running burningly hot through Sasuke’s body, God he needs Naruto, needs to devour him whole; strip him off of his layers to digest, kiss his lips to stain them red; Sasuke loves so strongly — carnivorously.

Oh.

Love.

That's what it was.

The thing inside him was love all along. He didn’t recognize it, probably because it was different from the love he grew up with. This was burningly scarlet, dangerously green; he was afraid of its burn, its spreading. Maybe this was already in him even as a kid, a flame he forcefully blew out, Naruto rekindling it.

Sasuke hadn’t considered using “love”, to label his feelings towards Naruto; he believed the word wasn’t enough anyway. But he allows himself to love again, it’s Naruto, after all.

Sasuke tries to pull back, while Naruto tries to chase his lips but is interrupted by Sasuke, “Naruto, if we don’t stop–…”

Naruto turns serious, “Do you want to stop?”

Sasuke wets his lips, and pauses. He doesn’t. But he’s a bit afraid. Sasuke wants Naruto to be selfishly, thoughtlessly, and desperately his.

Read the rest: here 🫀