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bakaaruo · 4 years

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@sasukhiha sent, ‘ a hoarse whisper, kiss me. ’

uchiha sasuke was immortal to the mind of uzumaki naruto. it was a childish thought for any shinobi to have; if anything, naruto’s entire life experience has only further validated that nothing is permanent. but the more they evaded death, the more they overcame the impossible, the more naruto entertained the idea that they were fated to survive. he knew sasuke wasn’t invincible, but the hokage never thought he would ever have to watch him die.

how can a guy who can’t even save one friend... become hokage ?

naruto’s curse was he would always survive his loved ones. hyuga neji is survived by... lord third is survived by... jiraiya is survived by... life clung to naruto like clothes, and the more he survived, the more those clothes began to feel like chains. it’s why he couldn’t stop reaching for sasuke, it’s why he needed his life to be worth all those sacrificed for it. and even if he failed, they would both fail. naruto watched so many die quick, unceremonious deaths in battle, and the thought of crossing into the next life with his best friend seemed like a better end than he could hope for.

naruto couldn’t fathom even death parting him and sasuke.

even with no medical skill, himself— and four of his clones— were all trying their hardest they to keep all of sasuke’s blood in his body. they pressed into his once porcelain skin until the dark fabric beneath their hands became damp, warm, and sticky. each of the clones exchanged expressions of worry and skepticism, differentiating from the main body, whose eyes would not lift from the sight of his own hands. and that’s when he heard it.

there was a chance naruto would have missed it; it’s hard to speak when blood is spilling into your lungs. a bittersweet taste filled his mouth while every muscle in his body became taut. in any other circumstance, there would be an aura of excitement to the raven’s request— even in a normal circumstance, it was more than an unusual request to come from sasuke’s lips.

kiss me.

not a single person, not even the creatures that dwelled inside him, understood the how badly naruto had wanted to hear those two words. kiss me, hold me, touch me— no matter how sasuke phrased it, for him to want naruto badly enough to ask for him was a dream that every fiber of naruto’s body craved. and yet the idea of kissing sasuke now tasted like bile in his mouth, and he clenched his eyes shut and turned away from his voice.

❛ now... now you want me to kiss you? ❜ his voice was strangled, sounding as if it was stuck in his throat, or like he couldn’t breathe. he wanted to die. ❛ i’ve been trying to get you to come home... to just learn to stay and forgive yourself. i’ve been trying to kiss you for months— and you... ❜ a vaguely familiar burn ran through the jinchuriki’s body, an inferno that naruto had previously quelled.

anger like this was unending, unsatisfied; it consumed him until he felt the heat reach even his eyes, turning clear blue hues a crimson that rivaled sasuke’s sharingan in brilliance. they looked even brighter behind the downpour of the jinchuriki’s tears, glaring down at sasuke as low growls rumbled in his throat. ❛ YOU TOLD ME YOU COULD HANDLE IT ! ❜ he snarled down at the dying man, tears rolling off his lips ( and fangs ) onto sasuke's tattered clothes. of course he was angry at sasuke; he was supposed to be the smart one. years of calling naruto useless, loser, idiot because naruto was impatient, stubborn, and reckless in a fight only to end up being held together by the usuratonkachi.

the deaths of geniuses are so pitiful.

when the fading light of hyuga neji died in front of him, naruto remembered the same taste of copper in his mouth while his brain screamed. WHY WHY WHY, IF YOU CAN'T, HOW CAN I? naruto was a sloppy fighter, even now, and he was an average strategist at best; sasuke and neji outperformed him in more ways than the village would ever know, and yet naruto had to watch them both die in the end. sasuke didn't like politics, but maybe that would have made him a better hokage than the current, and he wouldn't be bleeding out in a deserted cavern. it sent another jolt of anger shooting through naruto, a sob pushing its way past his clenched teeth.

he's dying, naruto. shut up, stupid old fox.

the idea of a last kiss with sasuke had his spine bending with grief, hands pressing harder into his chest. ❛ just wait... til sakura sees this... after she gets you okay, you'll be lucky to live one more day... ❜ even as a child, naruto would find ways to avoid reality, often with a flash of his toothy, dopey grin. no matter how bad it would seem, he clung to reasons to smile to survive the worst, but his mouth wouldn't rise even if he tried. nothing about this was enjoyable. it was pain in physical form, and naruto was wrist-deep in it, soaking it in until it stained his fingernails. his new biggest fear. there wasn't supposed to be a last kiss because sasuke was supposed to be untouchable to anyone except the gods and buddha.

why are you giving up? don't you want to stay with me longer?

❛ baka... ❜ his voice is hardly there.

he's trying to say goodbye, boy. you never even liked him. but you did.

naruto didn't like sasuke, he coveted him, craved him like a lifesource; does a plant like water? naruto spent so much of his adolescence breaking chunks off of himself for sasuke, trying to lace their lives in a closely woven pattern in the hopes that sasuke would be forced to acknowledge him. if sasuke expressed admiration, naruto wanted it; if sasuke expressed hate, naruto wanted it; if sasuke expressed love, naruto wanted it. even as boys, the uchiha was the center of naruto's focus, until he became the fox's life. without sasuke, there were a lot of gaps in his world; even then, when sasuke would leave for months at a time, naruto would feel the spaces he would leave. they were excruciatingly loud.

it used to be the empty space that existed in a random inn on boring missions, the silence that hung in the air that would usually be filled with petty banter, the chill of training alone. even if sasuke were to hate him, naruto still couldn't stand being away from the only constant he's ever had. now, it was much worse— it was the cold indent in the mattress, it was the ghost of his scent on naruto's clothes, the fucking cats that would show up on the back porch and scream for hours. naruto wanted to scream too.

listen to the last wishes of a dying man. why are you so bent on this, kurama? i know all too well the regrets caused by anger. if he dies, will you be able to live with how your anger kept you from saying goodbye?

it was like ice pouring over his entire body, and he felt the color drain from his eyes as all the anger fell out of him, replaced with a suffocating anguish. he's dying, he knows he's dying. his body sagged, his head falling down against his own chest, blond locks cascading over his drying eyes. one after another, the clones disappeared, and soon naruto was leaning back, hands lifting from sasuke's chest. silently, he moved to lift sasuke's upper body up, moving to support the raven's body with his chest, arms trembling as they wrapped around his bloody torso.

with two fingers, naruto gripped sasuke's chin, tipping his head back until naruto could comfortably lean down and press his lips against his rival's. kissing was a strange thing; even in moments of intensity, it was a rather delicate form of intimacy. the idea of kissing was more daunting than anything else for naruto, and kisses from sasuke usually left him a shade of scarlet. with their mutual disinterest in physical affection, it wasn't a common act between them, but naruto couldn't help but wish it had been as the taste of sasuke's mouth blended with blood. this kiss wouldn't be like the others— tender, slow even, as if they had all of the time in the world. if they weren't shinobi, and they met in a different life, naruto imagined this is how they'd kiss all the time; they would come home from work, and naruto would watch sasuke cook, and naruto would complain about the cats, and they would kiss all the time.

❛ i know a part of you thinks you're lucky to have made it this far. ❜ his voice was still uneven as his lips parted from sasuke’s, but he held firm, pushing back the swelling in his throat. ❛ but i wanted to chase after you for another thirty years. i was prepared to, 'ttebayo. ❜ his voice became clearer, his arms clutching sasuke against him, head pressed against his. ❛ i've made you do a lot more than you probably ever wanted to, huh? ( something scratches at his throat, a laugh? ) but in the next life, don't think you're getting a break, cause you're gonna be chasing ME for once. believe it. ❜ the jinchuriki pressed his face into sasuke's hair, hiding both the grin that split his face and the downpour of tears that begun again.

there would never be another uchiha sasuke again, and it was both a promise and a tragedy.

#𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻 ━━━ DRABBLE #𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻 ━━━ IC REPLY / the only ones who listen to me are the people i pay.#𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑺 ━━━ NARUTO / you shouldn’t be this tired at your age.#sasukhiha #( i'm emotionally drained from writing this the last two days )#death tw #death /#blood tw #blood /#( just to be safe )#( this is just a hypothetical scenario sasuke is alive and well force feeding naruto a Vegetable when he gets the chance )

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ijustwanttoexist · 4 years

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Olli Maatta #1

Pairing(s): Olli Maatta/Gender Ambiguous Reader

You’re sitting on the couch in your underwear, watching some documentary on Netflix and steadily working your way through your secret chip stash when you hear the deadbolt scraping in the lock. You press pause on the documentary–you think it might be something about space, but could just as easily be about the ocean for all that you were paying attention–and make your way to the front door.

Olli has already kicked off his dress shoes, and is in the process of taking off his coat when you get there. His suitcase and hockey bag are in their usual spots, and you barely glance at them. Instead, you take him in as you impatiently wait for him to finish hanging up his coat.

His travel suit is slightly rumpled from hours of travel sitting. His hair is slightly mussed from what must have been a several hour nap, probably during the flight. He looks tired from a long week of away games, and will likely take a nap at some point. You’ll gladly join him, when he finally decides to lie down.

You’ve missed him. Not just in the obvious way that you’re the only person in the apartment, but in the little, subtle ways that perhaps hit the hardest. You’ve missed cuddling with him on the couch while you watch awful horror movies; missed eating eggs and toast for breakfast in the mornings before he takes off for practice; missed cooking his game day dinner with him, bumping into each other both accidentally and on purpose; missed getting ready for bed together in the evenings, and him making fun of you having toothpaste on the corner of your mouth; missed the little kisses that you both give and get throughout the day, on the lips, the cheek, the shoulder, the nose, the forehead, just as gentle reminders that you love each other.

You’ve even missed the less glamorous parts of dating a hockey player. You’d much rather help him ice a new bruise than watch him take a bad hit and know he’s hundreds of miles away. And rather than only being able to talk on the phone after a bad loss until one of you falls asleep, you much prefer cuddling in your bed together, either you in his arms or he in yours, talking about nothing much at all so he doesn’t beat himself up about what he feels like he could have done better. It’s just better all around when he’s here.

“Hello, my love,” you say as he turns to you. You wrap your arms around him as he comes to you, and feel his hands settle on your lower back. He gives you a lingering kiss on the lips, just as a hello and I missed you and I’m so glad I’m home.

Then he sags in your arms a little, rests his head on your shoulder, and you both rock gently back and forth for a few moments. One of your hands has moved to his hair, and you brush your fingers through it. He lets out a deep sigh of contentment, and you can’t help the smile that comes to your face. That nap is probably going to happen sooner rather than later at this rate, as you feel him sag further into you.

“Shower first?” you ask, “Or do you just want to sleep for a little bit?”

He’s silent for a moment, maybe giving the question some serious thought, maybe just too tired to make a decision quickly.

“Shower,” he finally says, “want to wash the airplane off me.” He doesn’t move though, stays snuggled up as close to you as he can get.

“Want me to join you?” He hums, and nuzzles closer to your neck. “Okay, come on.” You gently lead him to the bathroom, around any stray furniture or random objects on the floor, all without making him move from his place wrapped around you.

You sit him on the toilet when you get there, and smile fondly at his grumbles as you move away from him. You turn on the water for the shower, making sure it’s nice and hot like he likes, but not so hot that it burns you.

When you turn to face him, he hasn’t moved at all to remove his suit. Your heart aches for how tired he is, and you move to help him. You grab the spare hanger you keep in the bathroom for situations like this then pull the jacket from his shoulders.

The movement seems to have kicked him into motion, and clumsy fingers begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. You help him stand when it becomes obvious the last button is tucked into his pants.

The shirt goes into the laundry basket, along with the undershirt. The pants end up on the hanger with the jacket, the underwear and socks into the basket. Then you guide him into the spray of the shower.

His sigh of contentment makes your heart sing. He opens his arms for you once you join him in the shower, and you tuck yourself into them. In a few minutes, you’ll help him wash off. Neither of you will bother to dry off properly, simply crawl into the middle of the bed and cuddle up until you both fall asleep.

You know he’ll sleep long before you do, with how exhausted he is. And you’ll play with his hair, and make it stand in all sorts of weird directions because of it. And then at some point you’ll join him in slumber, and you’ll both sleep so much better in each other’s arms.

But for now, the two of you hold each other, and gently rock back and forth under the hot spray of water. Olli starts to hum something, a song you don’t recognize but that feels soothing coming from him. And the two of you bask in him being home.

#Olli Maatta Imagine #Olli Maatta x Reader #gender ambiguous reader #I started writing this before he was traded #I never imagined he would be anywhere but with the pens #so this is penguin olli maatta because the team he's on now is gross

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motleycrueroadie · 4 years

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Along for the Ride (pt. 2)

I don’t think anyone is reading this series besides me, but I am enjoying writing this so that’s okay!

One

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Arguably, one of the best parts about living in California is the weather. Sunshine dominates the climate for a better part of the year, and while this could be overwhelming come the summer, the spring sun makes for excellent running conditions. Running has never been my favourite activity, in fact I had absolutely resented it with a burning passion until I had reached high school. My childhood had never even had a semblance of normalcy or stability to it, my parents and I were constantly on the move. It wasn’t until I entered high school that I had begun to enter a state of stability and routine. I had not signed up for cross country on my own accord, given my hatred towards running, but the coach happened to be my favourite Biology teacher, Mrs. Jeanette, who I could be easily persuaded by. Did I have a change of heart towards running after joining the team? Absolutely not. Every single workout was hellish, miles upon miles of long distance training and workouts that made you vomit, but it was the people that made me stay.

The team, led by Mrs. Jeannette, was one of the first examples of unconditional support I had ever encountered. The race times or mile splits had never held significance in their eyes, or led them to judge me harshly, they simply looked at me as a person. I had 40 people looking out for me and giving me support at all times, and that’s what I became hooked on. The running came second to the people. Over the course of high school I became successful in both cross country and track and field, but it was never the accomplishments that carried me through it, it was always the team that I had right behind me. Leaving behind this familial system was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, I cried for days after each final milestone, but all good things must come to an end. At least that’s what they say. No longer do I have the team to look out for me, but I have the memories that come alive when I’m running. The Sunset Strip is nothing like the parks we did workouts at, or the track buzzing with athletes on a meet day, but it would have to do. The one thing that was interesting about the Strip was the sense of familiarity while at the same time being completely unpredictable. Paradoxical in nature, there was always the constants - the nightclubs would remain in the same location, the heart of the Strip - while there was the variables - whose name would be adorning the marquee this week, who would be roaming the streets looking for any chance they could get to have their name up there?

Despite all the changes since high school ended, running remained constant. Everyday at 4:30, feet hit the pavement whether I wanted to or not. The route stayed the same, the pace stayed around the same and it happened everyday no matter what, rain or shine.

One of the things about these runs was the fact that I could always spot Nikki leaving work. His appearance at my workplace had taken me by surprise, and he only continued to surprise me as he stayed for a conversation on a dull Thursday night. I knew Nikki Sixx, but for whatever reason, be it that he was caught in his own personal bubble or just did not care to pay attention, he hadn’t the foggiest clue who I was. This was quite ironic, considering that we lived in the same apartment building. Chalk it up to the schedule conflicts that we had not met. Sixx kept his own in the conversation, but had let me take the reins when it came to talking, which I had found incredibly surprising. Given the eccentric aesthetic that resembled “in your face rock and roll” I had fully expected him to overpower the conversation, but he had surprised me. I could only hope to continue learning about Sixx, he seemed to garner a certain friendship material about him. Coming up upon the Starwood, like clockwork I spotted Nikki outside the venue having a cigarette. Weaving in between the pedestrians of the sidewalk, I tried to keep up pace and catch the traffic light before it turned so I wouldn’t lose momentum. From my knowledge, I was one of the few people out on the street running around 4:30 in the afternoon, mostly because the majority of the population was on their way home from work, yet I could hear an off-kilter gait gaining behind me.

“Do you think you could fucking slow down a little?” Smiling to myself, I knew this wasn’t a runner behind me.

“Do you think you could fucking speed up here Sixx? I’m trying to keep pace” This was mostly meant to be a joke, but sure enough I heard the off-kilter gait find some sort of rhythm and a black figure appeared in my peripheral vision. Letting off some speed, I slowed down until I was level with Nikki.

“You know I’ve seen this girl running across the street everyday when I get off work, but I never knew it was you” He seemed completely out of breath and quite out of his element.

“Funny how that works” Confirming my suspicion that Nikki did not know who I was. Between the two of us, I was the senior - living in the apartment building for roughly a year before he showed up. He had moved in with practically nothing with him and slowly but surely dragged raggedy furniture up the stairs to his apartment, to assemble what I can assume to only be the epitome of minimalist rock star living. I was not entirely sure if the man even ate food, since I had only ever seen him bring groceries to the apartment on a handful of occasions.

“Since I didn’t have the chance to take you home the other day, can I make it up to you now?” Glancing at him to read the motive off his face, I was met with nothing but a face of general inquiry. He seemed innocent enough in his intentions, so I figured I would indulge the request, but not without giving him a hard time.

“How do I know you aren’t going to murder me once you find out where I live?” His eyebrows raised in surprise at the nature of the question, but he held a smirk.

“I would be the easiest suspect in a lineup to pick out. Nobody else around here looks like me, so it’s not worth killing you if I’m going to be caught now is it?” Just like in the diner, he was able to dish it out as much as he could take it. During the time we had spent talking Nikki and I had shared just the bare details with one another about our lives, I knew enough surface information to strike up a mundane conversation. Nikki had explained to me how he spent his days on shift at the Starwood to do general cleaning, stocking and other labour tasks that people hired young men for, while at night he was a bass player for a band called London. I admitted to seeing their name on the marquee outside the Starwood. He continued to explain to me that was how he had been able to secure their first playing at the venue, by bugging the shit out of the manager with his cassettes. Though he had described this as a sort of “day and night” juxtaposition, his story didn’t strike me as that - everything he did, he did for the music.

“You would like being caught, any press is good press for the band you would be leaving behind”

“Those assholes don’t deserve the press” Throughout this exchange, Nikki had managed to keep the slower pace that I had adjusted for him, but as we approached a traffic light that teetered on the edge of turning I began to slow to a walk. He looked over at me and almost seemed impatient, “Come on now, I’m liking the pace so you can’t quit on me” grabbing my hand he pulled me into a sprint to make it across the street, but not without a car honking at us as he flipped them off. Laughing, I pulled back on his arm and insisted we slowed down. Pointing up at the large white building, “I live here, and from what I understand so do you.” Again, he raised his eyebrows in surprise though this time he did not hold the smirk.

“Now I’m worried about you murdering me” he spoke with just a slight tinge of humour to his voice. Continually, he amazed me with the fact that he really truly did not recognize me.

“Sixx, answer me honestly. I have been living above you since you moved into the building and you really haven’t put two and two together since coming into the diner?” As we walked up toward the building, he shrugged his shoulders while rummaging in his pockets for what I assumed to be keys.

“You work night shift at a diner and I try and inhabit that apartment as little as possible, I have not exactly made it all that homely you know” He was blunt when he spoke, and I can presume there is a reason for that bluntness, which probably correlated to the “un-homely” state of the apartment. We continued walking up the stairs, shifting into a comfortable silence. He started to slow down as we came to his floor, and I could see the hesitancy in his face as he looked down at the floor, so I spoke first.

“If you give me about an hour to have a shower, you can come up to my apartment and have some lasagna with me. It’s hard to cook for one, so I always have lots of food” His facial features lightened a little but he still looked a little tense, maybe he wasn’t used to the kind gesture. “Rock star lifestyle makes you look a little skinny so I think I need to fatten you up.” I jokingly nudged him in the ribs with my elbow, and finally he eased up.

“Makes it easier to murder me if I can’t run away from you doesn’t it?” Laughing at his quick wit, I flipped him off while making my way to the stairs.

“One hour!” I called back to him, “I’m the apartment right above you with the plants in the window!”

Next Chapter

#Motley Crue #the dirt fanfiction #douglas booth!nikki sixx

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