Not too forward at all! I feel extremely flattered that you still remember me talking about that fic, considering that was sometime in June/July! ♥️

I would definitely like to finish the fic, but what happened is what happens to lots of my WIPs: I forgor what the fuck I wanted to write. Sometimes, I have an idea that plays so vividly in my head like a film, and because it’s so much, because I have the conversations and all the happenings of a story already perfectly played out in my mind, it’s pretty much impossible to write it all down in one go. And if too much time passes before I get to write everything at least sloppily down, then I will inevitably start forgetting details until I forget whole chunks of the plot.

This time around, I at least left myself some keywords to help me remember, and they mostly do! I still know what I wanted to write for the most part even after all these months, but there’s still details missing, and that’s wholly a me-problem. I hate that when I finally finish the fic, it won’t be exactly as I had it originally in mind, that it will inevitably be different. The readers won’t even know which parts are exactly as I had envisioned them in the beginning and which aren’t, but I will know and that’s enough to drive me up a wall and not want to continue writing it…

Also, there’s one part where I don’t know how to solve the issue of Tobirama not wanting to talk to Izuna anymore (if you remember—in this fic, Tobirama falls in love with Izuna but Izuna is aro and therefore doesn’t love Tobirama back romantically, and it begins rather on a sad note in which Tobirama avoids Izuna because he believes that’s what he needs, and the fic progresses into them finding out how to still continue their friendship and eventually live together, while they love each other in entirely different ways). I remember Izuna having a conversation with Tobirama to convince him to be friends again, but I can’t for the life of me remember what he could’ve said, and it’s maddening that my brain won’t provide me with the answer I literally already had…

Anyway, yes, I do very much plan to finish that fic, I just need to get over the issues! Hopefully sometime this year :)

Here, have a sneak peek from the beginning where things are bad, because I am mean (and also because the beginning part is fully written out whereas the latter part where things get better is still under construction so I can’t really share that):  

Tobirama was avoiding him.

Scorching hot fury brought the blood in his veins to a boiling point and overshadowed the disappointment and confusion he felt upon the realization. Everyone hurried away from him as he stomped over to the Hokage Tower, murderous glare in his eyes, and slamming open Tobirama’s office door without any care.

Tobirama didn’t even have the gall to look up. “Not now, Izuna,” he only said and continued writing, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, now,” Izuna growled. “You’re avoiding me, Tobirama.” He didn’t state it as a question; it wasn’t one. It wasn’t an assumption either. It was fact. He’d just been too busy to notice it before, but there was no doubt about it now.

“Of course, I am,” Tobirama answered simply, still not looking up from his notes, his calm a stark contrast to Izuna’s anger and the chakra he was leaking to the point of choking.

It took Izuna’s breath in a flash. For a hot second, stabbing pain of sheer hurt overwhelmed him, before anger took over the wheel once again, and it cost all of Izuna’s self-restraint not to set the table in front of him on fire. “What. The. Fuck.”

“If you only came here to state the obvious, please leave. I have work to do.”

Tobirama might as well had punched him in the guts. Izuna’s vision went red, if from anger or hurt, Izuna couldn’t tell, and Izuna had to swallow past the lump in his throat multiple times before asking, “Is that how you treat a friend?” And here he had thought Tobirama would tell him in the face if he had a problem instead of cowering like a coward.

That finally brought Tobirama to a halt. He set his brush down with composed calm, and slowly, almost carefully, did he lift his head, finally looking Izuna straight in the eye.

What Izuna saw there wasn’t what he had expected. To anyone else, Tobirama would’ve looked relaxed, but Izuna knew him well enough now to read the signs. The locked jaw spoke of carefully hidden anger, but the milky look in his usually steel-hard eyes told him a story of hurt. Izuna didn’t understand what right Tobirama had to be hurt when he was the one who just stomped on their friendship as if it meant nothing.

“Izuna,” and his voice was so careful not to waver, Izuna could tell by the miniscule wobble of his underlip, “you showed me precisely where we stand. I need some space now. And time.”

Izuna’s first instinctive reaction was to quip and tell him that Tobirama had already made time and space bend to his will, his second thought was ‘what’.

CW for drug consumption

“Are those pigeons or flying pigs up in the sky?”

Touka takes a moment to look more closely at what Mito is pointing at and then replies, dead serious, “Flying pigs, definitely.”

She only manages to maintain her serious face for a few seconds before bursting into manic cackling, accompanied by Mito’s far more dignified giggles, which she hides behind her sleeve.

When Touka had decided it was nigh time to get to know Mito on some private one-on-one time before Mito married into the family, and she brought Mito to Hashirama’s secret garden of all places to show her Hashirama’s favorite psychedelic mushrooms—because she’s a bit of an asshole like that—she hadn’t expected Mito to just raise an eyebrow challengingly and ask, “Don’t you have something more refined, say, cannabis instead?” while pulling out a kiseru from her sleeve as if it were a matter of course.

Touka could only gasp in shock and delight in equal measure when she recognized the kiseru and breathed, “Is that Uchiha Madara’s kiseru?!” and almost fell over laughing when Mito flashed her a triumphal grin in response and explained, “I tried to play nice with him for Hashirama’s sake, to no avail, until Hashirama told me that the best language Madara speaks is the language of fists—so I decided if he wants his kiseru back, he can come and fight me for it.”

Looking at Mito now, still sitting so regally in seiza in the middle of Hashirama’s experimental garden, holding the stolen kiseru as expertly and elegantly as if she were smoking regular tobacco and not the possibly most potent cannabis in all of the five elemental nations, Touka can’t help but think Mito fits right into this madhouse of a family.

For this prompt meme

Of course you can! I always accept multiple prompts by the same person as long as prompts are open. And as long as they don’t send an unreasonable amount lol. Thank you! ♥️

“Touch my hair again and I’ll kill you,” Izuna says flatly.

“But it’s so pretty,” Tobirama returns just as deadpan, pressing the paperwork Izuna left on Tobirama’s desk into his hands.

“Wha— did you fucking asshole seriously try to pull my hair to get my attention instead of oh, I don’t know, calling me by my name and waiting for me to turn around, because of some paperwork?!”

Tobirama doesn’t even bat an eye as he taunts, “It’s hardly my fault you’re so far down that it would take too long for my voice to reach your ears, shorty.”

Izuna can only open his mouth in outrage, looking like he’s ready to throw his entire inventory of curses at Tobirama’s head, before he’s interrupted by Hashirama’s loud voice at the end of the corridor with an “Oh, just kiss already!”, which earns him a deadly glare and an equally loud “No, absolutely not!” from Madara, who is standing next to him.

For a moment they all stare at Hashirama in complete silence, almost deafening due to the extreme contrast of a shouting match that was about to break out had Hashirama not intervened, and Tobirama has no sympathy for his anija at all, when Izuna is the first to break the silence and throws a kunai at Hashirama, missing him by a hair’s breadth, and the tips of his ears suddenly turn crimson—a detail that Tobirama’s keen eyes don’t miss.

He can’t help the tiny twitch of his lips then; it’s cute how, even after almost a year of their secret relationship, Izuna still blushes at the mere prospect of physical intimacy between them.

For this prompt meme

Idk if the “her” in this was a typo or deliberate but I took it as permission to write F/F MadaTobi :]

Writing down her thoughts about their relationship wasn’t as cathartic as Tobirama had hoped.

It was a hopelessly romantic sentiment anyway—something, that would occur to Hashirama, which was probably the reason she thought of it in the first place.

What was she supposed to write down? That her relationship with Madara was a purely sexual one, built on anger and frustration, on insults that dug deep into their skin, on biting and scratching and bruising until they were both covered in blood, spit and ejaculation equally?

Or should she rather write down how the mad grin on Madara’s ridiculously black-painted lips made Tobirama tremble in arousal, how she felt a sense of belonging when Madara pressed herself against Tobirama from behind, her heavy breasts warm on Tobirama’s back, and how no other partner had ever been able to bring her to completion with mouth and fingers as skillfully as Madara, leaving Tobirama completely and wholly satisfied?

It didn’t matter either way, for one fact remained:

Tobirama had killed Madara’s last brother, and thus the impossibility of their relationship becoming a fairytale romance was set in stone.

For this prompt meme

(I still accept a few more)

“Take this,” she said as she tossed a sword towards him.

Tobirama just managed to catch it before he got accidentally stabbed and cast an annoyed look at Mito, who had the gall to grin at him mischievously.

“Aneue,” Tobirama gritted out between clenched teeth upon inspecting the sword closer, “respectfully; what the fuck?”

Mito’s grin only widened in response, and Hashirama’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter did little to assuage his annoyance—worse even, instead of taking advantage of Tobirama’s momentary lapse, to emerge victorious from their admittedly rather brutal sparring (he pointedly didn’t look at all the blood they had drawn from each other), Izuna doubled over laughing as he took a closer look at the sword as well, sounding like a weasel on the verge of death.

It was an excellent painting job, Tobirama could admit that much, for at first glance he never would have known that the sword was made entirely out of wood (and he didn’t have to guess who he had to thank for this gift).

Taking out her fan, no doubt to hide her giggle behind it, Mito explained, “We thought since you two don’t know how a friendly spar works, and seem to be so determined to kill each other, maybe you should go over the basics again, starting with children’s weapons, hm?”

Oh, they were good; Tobirama was once again reminded of how perfect Hashirama and Mito were for each other—he only wished they wouldn’t team up against him.

On the upside, however, Izuna finally stopped laughing at Tobirama’s expense to shoot Mito an icy glare when her implications reached him, and Tobirama decided that a sorrow shared was a sorrow halved, so he slowly walked over to his former mortal enemy to discuss a plan for revenge.

They would see who would be the last one to laugh.

—

For this prompt meme

“What are you doing?” Hashirama asks her, sounding honestly befuddled.

Mito doesn’t even look up from her what Hashirama assumes must be a sealing array taking up the entire floor of their engawa, not caring that a storm is brewing above them—and Madara’s superstitions from the lands of the far west must be rubbing off on him, because his first thought is that this looks more like a ritual of dark magic—as she answers, “I’m trying to summon Susanoo.”

“Uh…” Hashirama blinks slowly in disbelief, taking a moment to process what his wonderful, beautiful, utterly insane wife just said, “I’m sorry, did you just say you’re trying to summon the Susanoo-no-Mikoto?”

This time, Mito finally looks up at him, and there’s a thunderous look in her dark eyes that promises even more danger than the upcoming storm. “Well, you see, your friend Madara,” she spits out his name as if it were a particularly vile curse before turning her full attention back on her seal experiment, “loves to go on and on about the superiority of the Sharingan over the seal work of the Uzumaki”—here her usually steady hand falters as she draws a rather aggressive line—“so I decided that if he thinks his Sharingan is so much better, he may as well try out his Susanoo’s against the real Susanoo, summoned by me, and then we’ll see whose skill is the superior one.”

When she finishes her rant with a manic grin on her red-painted lips—the shade she only uses when she goes to war—Hashirama suddenly finds that he values his life more than Madara’s, so to avoid drawing any more attention to himself, he backs away slowly and carefully, deciding to visit Tobirama in his lab instead, because whatever Tobirama is brewing in that mad scientist lair of his can’t possibly be worse than Mito’s current state.

(He soon finds out he’s very, very wrong about that.)

—

For this prompt meme

You asked for this. I’m not sorry at all—on the contrary even >:) Tho, I wouldn’t call this angst, just… sad. Because despite all the angst I love to read, I just don’t know how to write it myself.

AO3 link

——————

“Tobirama!”

The shocked gasp Hashirama’s caused Madara to lift his gaze from the bowl in front of him for the first time that evening to see what the ruckus was about, only to find Tobirama grinning smugly, holding the last bit of takuan between his chopsticks and leaning away from Hashirama.

“Sorry, anija, but you snooze, you lose,” Tobirama said, his grin widening as he shoved the pickled dish into his mouth.

Madara’s breath caught in his throat at the sight before him, unable to comprehend what he had just seen. He’d seen Tobirama’s smug expression more often than he could count, usually carried with an air of insufferable smart-aleck-ness, but this… this was playful.

Madara hadn’t even known Tobirama could be playful at all.

“You traitor!” Hashirama screeched, slamming his hands on the table. “You don’t even like takuan!” And with those words he lunged at Tobirama, apparently ready to snatch the food right from Tobirama’s mouth.

Madara could do nothing but watch as Tobirama half-choked and half-laughed, his usually curt, cold face now open and soft, trying to break free from Hashirama’s tight grip—and in the midst of this brotherly bickering, Madara’s vision blurred, Tobirama’s grey hair morphed into long jet-black hair tied in a ponytail, the red eyes turned into warm black ones, and suddenly it was Izuna sitting opposite of him with a cheeky twinkle in his eyes and a fake-innocent “Anikiii” on his lips.

Madara immediately narrowed his eyes in suspicion, wondering what his brat of a brother was up to this time, but before he could even answer, Izuna leaned in closer and with one quick motion stole the last dango from Madara’s stick directly with his mouth.

Madara gaped in indignation, stared at Izuna’s smug grin now chewing on the sweet treat, blinked at his empty stick and emitted a small noise reminiscent of a boiling tea kettle.

“Aww, don’t be mad, Madara,” Izuna giggled. “I have younger brother privilege, so I get to have the last bit.”

Madara felt his hair bristle in outrage. “Not from my stick, though, y—”

“—ou little shit!” Hashirama’s high-pitched screech of doom snapped him out of the flashback, Izuna’s sassy face replaced again by Tobirama’s mischievous one, so unusual compared to his otherwise cold expression, yet fitting in a way.

It rudely reminded Madara that ultimately, Izuna’s murderer was a younger brother just like Izuna had been.

Madara slowly blinked away the lingering vision before his eyes away and let out a soft sigh, his gaze back on the table so that he would have no longer to look at the brothers fighting on the floor across him. He had known giving in to Hashirama’s pleading eyes and accepting the invitation for dinner had been a mistake from the start.

The chopsticks made no sound as he carefully set them aside and then quietly stood up from the table, while the other two occupants were too distracted with their playful fight to notice Madara heading for the door.

Living in this village without Izuna by his side had been easier when he could still demonize Tobirama instead of seeing him as just another human being—worse, as someone’s family member, even. Nothing really held him here anymore, if he was being honest.

This turned out cracky pretty quickly because of course it did. T-rated for hinted sexy times.

AO3 link

——————

Nezuko’s loud cry wakes him up even before Mito needlessly kicks him in the shins with her ice-cold feet.

“Your daughter’s awake,” Mito grumbles, quieted by the pillow she’s trying to smother herself in.

Hashirama groans. “You can’t always call her my daughter instead of our daughter every time she cries, that’s not how it works.”

“Considering she’s got your vocal range, I actually can.”

“Mito please—”

“I also call her your daughter every time she throws up,” Mito interrupts him, face still buried in her pillow. “She learned that from you.”

Hashirama gapes. “Wha— That doesn’t even— Are you still holding that one time I had to vomit after you forced me on a ramen-eating challenge against me?! You made me eat six bowls of ramen, you vile woman!”

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