senri
in
bedlam_mix
(Naruto - Frog Prince)
Genre: Romance/Angst?
Warnings: T
Characters: Jiraiya, Tsunade
Notes: This might be too angsty? You tell me.
Jiraiya is genre-aware, and he's known since he was a kid that he wouldn't get the girl - not the one that really mattered, anyway. He doesn't have a romance hero's build or noble profile - he’s the frog prince, literally. Or Toad Sage, if you want to get technical, which he really doesn’t. His career is built on sweeping ideals and happy endings, after all. The nitty-gritty little details just get in the way of that.
He’s the friend. He’s too loud, too brash, too open. The girl he wants doesn’t want to crack him open. He’s going to be holding her hair out of her face while she vomits for the rest of his life, and drinking with her and listening while she checks out other guys, and giving her advice on what men want, and getting punched out when he gets too raunchy with it. He’s the toad summoner, after all - he doesn’t get a kiss to turn him into a prince, he’s just a toad himself, all along. What you see is what you get, and why bother changing it? He’s happier this way, being himself. He’d be the better man for her, anyway - better for that dream-chasing girl who’s never going to look down and see the guy kissing her feet.
Jiraiya moves on to other women. But his heroines - they get pieces of her. Tsunade’s lips, hips, skin. Her tits, oh, her tits. Not that he can’t appreciate a small-chested woman for what she is, but Tsunade has always been partly about the breasts, and about wearing them with style. Even the days where he hates her guts, he’s got to admit she’s got style.
He enjoys it. Writing her, if he can’t have her - writing about the men who win. Who get the girls they want; the ones with the pale gold eyes, the full, smirking lips, the pale dewy skin, the tits that make them complain and demand backrubs.
It might not be having her. But Jiraiya is an author, he has a hell of an imagination - it substitutes for the real thing well enough.
Warnings: T
Characters: Jiraiya, Tsunade
Notes: This might be too angsty? You tell me.
Jiraiya is genre-aware, and he's known since he was a kid that he wouldn't get the girl - not the one that really mattered, anyway. He doesn't have a romance hero's build or noble profile - he’s the frog prince, literally. Or Toad Sage, if you want to get technical, which he really doesn’t. His career is built on sweeping ideals and happy endings, after all. The nitty-gritty little details just get in the way of that.
He’s the friend. He’s too loud, too brash, too open. The girl he wants doesn’t want to crack him open. He’s going to be holding her hair out of her face while she vomits for the rest of his life, and drinking with her and listening while she checks out other guys, and giving her advice on what men want, and getting punched out when he gets too raunchy with it. He’s the toad summoner, after all - he doesn’t get a kiss to turn him into a prince, he’s just a toad himself, all along. What you see is what you get, and why bother changing it? He’s happier this way, being himself. He’d be the better man for her, anyway - better for that dream-chasing girl who’s never going to look down and see the guy kissing her feet.
Jiraiya moves on to other women. But his heroines - they get pieces of her. Tsunade’s lips, hips, skin. Her tits, oh, her tits. Not that he can’t appreciate a small-chested woman for what she is, but Tsunade has always been partly about the breasts, and about wearing them with style. Even the days where he hates her guts, he’s got to admit she’s got style.
He enjoys it. Writing her, if he can’t have her - writing about the men who win. Who get the girls they want; the ones with the pale gold eyes, the full, smirking lips, the pale dewy skin, the tits that make them complain and demand backrubs.
It might not be having her. But Jiraiya is an author, he has a hell of an imagination - it substitutes for the real thing well enough.