WIP DUMP POST
Because arccie said she wanted to see some. Also, so I have proof that I actually write things other than PoT, ahahaha let's pretend the first two of the fics are something else.. This post is largely bi-polar, swinging from crack to angst to uh, porn (because those are the only genres I'm capable of writing apparently), so I apologize if you read all of these and end up with a headache. Also, like most of my writing, beware of the run-on sentences.
PRINCE OF TENNIS
1.) From the crack fic prompted by arccie involving Ryoma and Tokugawa cosplaying as Ciel and Sebastian and Fuji somehow making money out of it:
"Is this Buchou's polo?" Ryoma couldn't believe it- it's too good to be true. Is he going to wear something without ruffles now?
"Yes, it's perfect for this last bit," Fuji explains, simultaneously handing Ryoma's last costume change to Horio and sending the other freshmen on his way. "It's way too big for you- meaning, it's just the right size for this particular costume."
Too big is an understatement. Ryoma is practically swimming in Tezuka's polo, but he looks happy about it, judging by the way he is rubbing the too-long sleeve against his cheek and inhaling deeply. He is only brought back to present when Fuji's camera flashes again.
"If you've had your fill of sniffing Tezuka's laundry detergent," Fuji says cordially, "We should get ready with your final setting."
Echizen scowls and stands up, Tezuka's polo riding just above his knees. "Okay, fine. Can I have my pants then?"
Fuji gives him a blinding smile. "Saa... who said anything about pants?"
Ryoma is suddenly seized with a palpable, paralyzing terror, like the exact moment before getting bodyslammed by the Hulk.
"What... what do you mean there's none."
"I think it's quite clear," Fuji answers pleasantly. "You've been complaining of wearing stuffy clothes all day, so we figured you'd appreciate a little bit of ah, dressing down."
The horror of this implication has not died down yet when Eiji comes bouncing in. "Hoi hoi, Ochibi what are you still doing here?"
"Eiji-senpai!" The fact that Ryoma is looking to Eiji to see reason is a sign that his desperation has reached an all-time low. "This change of costume has NO PANTS."
"Yes, that's just about right for the bedroom scene, Echizen" Inui says, walking in, a calculator in one hand and his big-ass fake sword in another. "We're actually charging extra for that."
Why is everyone in his team a freak? Ryoma shoots his seniors a look of deepest loathing. "Senpai, I am not going out there without pants. At least give me pajamas or something!"
"No can do, Ochibi," Eiji wags his eyebrows at Ryoma in a way that cements his status as the worst Kenshin Himura cosplayer in the history of ever. "You wouldn't be in-character otherwise."
Ryoma tries very hard not to scream. "This is indecent exposure you know."
"It's that or this, Echizen." Fuji then brandishes a somewhat familiar elaborate pink gown with enough frills and lace to bigi Atobe's yoi na, complete with a pink flowery hat, matching wig and- Ryoma cringes- a whalebone corset. He then vaguely remembers that it's the same gown Ciel was wearing in that one episode he watched earlier.
"You'd look lovely in this," Fuji says, stroking the dress with reverence. "After all, this wouldn't be your first time wearing a pink lacy gown right?"
Ryoma flushes, his traitorous mind bringing forth unwanted memories of his brief Cinderella stint in that Rikkaidai play, which ranks among the top five Incidents of Complete and Utter Humiliation in his life, up there with that time his mother showed mortifying toddler pictures of Ryoma experimenting with her make-up to Tezuka-buchou.
So. It's a choice between indecent exposure and dressing like a high-class Victorian hooker. He mentally calculates the chances he has of knocking Fuji, Inui and Eiji with the cookie tray, racing out the room and locking himself inside the nearest bathroom til the day is over.
Even without Inui-senpai's calculating powers, the probability would be 0. The cookie tray is unwieldy, he's still pantsless, and all three of them actually have swords or at least a serviceable substitute of one.
He looks longingly out the window instead. Fuji follows his gaze and smiles. "Don't even think about it. I had the windows bolted from the outside."
Well, there goes the noble suicide route.
"If Buchou asks me why I'm leaving for America and leaving this pillar of Seigaku business behind, this is why," he growls instead, and stomps out of the dressing area.
----
2.) From the Tokugawa/Ryoma/Tezuka triangle fic requested by my good friend blue_eyed_fox (The whole fic's composition is actually 50% porn, but this post has enough porn as it is so you'll get a preview of angsty tennis instead):
Tezuka arrives in Narita International Airport quietly, with no fanfare, no press, no paparazzi. He has taken great pains to be inconspicuous, even going so far as to wear a hat and dark sunglasses. In the sea of travelers, he is just another face in the crowd, a Japanese Citizen going back home. The Roland Garros trophy is a heavy but comforting weight inside his carry-on bag, wrapped around his old Seigaku jacket, and stowed with his rackets.
It's the first time in four years that he has come back to his home country, and the act of returning feels like hooks tugging him in different directions. To be sure, he misses Japan, misses its politeness, its busyness, its festivals and sakura trees. Most of all, he misses the people he left behind.
But returning also means facing questions he doesn’t have answers to, facing solutions he doesn’t want to make.
Facing people he never said goodbye to.
Still, he doesn’t waste time. He taps out 'I am in Japan for two weeks' on his cellphone, intending to send it to Oishi and Fuji.
He ends up sending it to Ryoma instead. He hasn't even placed the phone back in his pocket when it vibrates with a reply.
'Tomorrow, usual place, 1500h. I'll bring the balls.'
The message is curt, bold and presumptious, but Tezuka feels himself smile with relief. It's been four years.
He misses this -him- the most.
*
Ryoma is waiting for him the next day at the Haruno Courts. Tezuka thinks this show of punctuality is one of the many changes Ryoma has made in the four years they haven’t seen each other and wonders what else the younger boy will surprise him with. He walks towards Ryoma until they are standing right in front of each other. Tezuka is surprised that they are seeing eye-to-eye.
The years have been good on Ryoma. Tezuka has seen pictures of him as time went by, but they're nothing compared to the person in front of him right now. Ryoma’s face has lost the baby curves and gained sharp angles; his inky hair has grown out, bangs hanging on his forehead with a sort of disheveled charm. His body is no longer boyish-still lithe but a bit more filled out, long coltish limbs imbued with hidden power. His eyes though, remain the same- large, feline and glinting gold whenever they catch Tezuka’s gaze.
He is strange and familiar all at once, and Tezuka finds it hard to breathe.
"Does anyone else know you're here?" Echizen asks by way of greeting.
Tezuka shakes his head. "I haven't told anyone else."
Echizen smirks, satisfied. "Good." The unspoken I get you all to myself hangs in the air between them.
They walk in silence towards the court. They've never needed much words; whatever they need to say, they say it through tennis, through the bounce of ball against gut, the finality of game points, the arcs and lines of ball movements.
Before they call the serve, Ryoma looks up and smiles brilliantly at him. "I missed you, Buchou."
"Aa." is all Tezuka replies, because his mouth has gone dry and his heart is scraping painfully against his ribs at the weight of the words. He decides to tell him he feels the same in the only way he knows how.
"Five-set match, Echizen."
Ryoma's eyes widen at this, but then a slow grin splits his face, and the excitement is palpable in his eyes.
Then they play.
They play until his lungs feel like they're on fire, like there's not enough air in the world to breathe. They play until sweat cascades down his face, slipping into his eyes, his mouth. He looks at Ryoma's form across the net, bathed in the afternoon glow and it's like he can taste the sun, hot and golden, filling his mouth with light, possibility, Ryoma.
They play, and nothing else matters.
*
Tokugawa watches them from his car, parked some ways beneath the pillars of the train tracks. The match taking place is nothing short of captivating, almost as if he's witnessing something between them turning sublime.
He knows that best way to understand the enigma that is Echizen Ryoma is to watch him play. Echizen's tennis speaks volumes; within the seven lines, he hides nothing and says everything.
He doesn't know how much he still doesn't understand until he sees him play Tezuka.
Tezuka and Echizen play tennis so intimately, it borders on obscene. It's as if for those two, tennis IS the sex- they kiss with each time the ball slams against the gut of their rackets, they fuck every time their spines arch to make a serve. Echizen's tennis propels Tezuka to dizzying heights; Tezuka's tennis brings Echizen to his knees.
Echizen loses the fifth set, 6-3, his crimson racket cluttering uselessly on the ground, his body exhausted beyond its limits, yet Tokugawa has never seen him so happy, sinking into mutual euphoria with Tezuka. It goes against everything he thinks he knows about Echizen, and his attitude towards winning. But then, he remembers how he felt when Echizen won against him a few weeks ago, and stops wondering.
But that explains a lot.
"What's with you guys and your obsession with propriety?"
"Older than me. Hot. Doesn't talk too much. Plays good tennis."
He wants to laugh- realization hitting him like a battering ram. Instead he guns the ignition and drives away, just as Echizen strides towards the net towards Tezuka, a perfect replica of how he was three weeks ago in the High School courts.
-tbc-
I'm 80% done with both of these two (last word count so far is 9k for the first, 8k for the second)- started writing around 3 weeks ago, but work kind of kept dragging me across the country so I'm only getting back to them now. Hopefully, I'll finish them by end of May.
TSUBASA RESERVOIR CHRONICLES:
3.) From a fic I started writing after reading Infinity Arc a.k.a the arc of OTP BREAKAGE (Fai/Sakura, hints of Kurogane/Fai, NC-17).
It is not affection or even love that drives him to do this. Rather, it is a twisted sense of duty, mired with what he fools himself into thinking as mutual desperation. The princess' fingers ghost over his lips, a clement gesture that speaks a message too cautious for words.
He tells himself that it is mutual need and affection that drives him to do this, to strip her of her garments, taking great care to move her injured leg gently. Her hair fans across the pillow, and there's moisture on the groove between her nose and upper lip, so he reaches out and thumbs it away. She looks at him with eyes that long for someone else, and it takes all his strength not to quail under her gaze.
Forgive me princess, he thinks, as he replaces his thumb with his lips, kissing her slowly and deeply, because any other way would be an insult. She is beautiful, and so, so fragile, a porcelain doll in his palm. It would be the easiest thing in the world to break her.
With Kurogane, he always feels like he's burning- his hatred, guilt and endless feeling of helplessness akin to self-immolation. Kurogane is always hot, his touches rough and unrefined, branding maps of heat on Fai's skin. His blood is liquid fire down Fai's throat, burning as it nourishes him.
With Sakura, he feels like he's drowning and taking her with him, and kissing her, sharing one breath is the only thing that will keep them both alive. Her skin and touch is cold, all warmth having fled from her when he left.
Fai has never been warm all his life; he is of Celes, of the world of ice, and perhaps this is why he's drawn to her now, cold beckoning to cold, splintered ice shards coalescing to stay solid. They can't afford to melt away.
Pleasure is not happiness, but it is the only substitute he can provide, the only salve they can apply to each other. She keens, moans, and spreads herself open like a bloom. They fuck like a perversity of a sacred ritual- she is his religion (his sin), and this is how he worships (defiles) her. He convinces himself that she wants this, needs this, convinces himself that he deserves to touch her with his butcher's hands. Her eyes are shut, and her lithe body responds accordingly, even as he knows her heart is breaking.
He convinces himself that this is all for her, and holds his own gratification until he feels her shuddering against him. A few more thrusts, and he crushes the guilt that comes along with the knife of pleasure in his brain when he comes.
He doesn't look at her as he pulls out, but he catches his eyes in the dirty window and they are filled with shame.
The following are shit I wrote WAY WAY BACK. Think, 2008 or something.
KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN
4.) Sometime during my very brief stint in that fandom, I was reading one of the earliest chapters (the Squalo - Basil chase scene) and thought to make a parody of it:
Targets 82 to 84 parody:
Squalo: Xanxus-sama is making me chase a twerp with his head on fire for what? Oh who cares, I'll slice him in three.
Basil: I will not answer thee. ::flees::
Squalo: What's with the Arthurian English? Never mind, I'll slice you in three, RAWR.
Basil: *runs and trips over the side of a building*
Squalo: You know, it's usually a bad idea to stop to look at random pictures when you're hanging off the edge of a very tall building. Also, when I'm about to slice you in three. Just saying.
Basil: Oh fucketh you. * somehow escapes anyway *
*
Tsuna: Mom, what's for din- what the fuck, did I just become King?
Nana: Of course not Tsuna. Daddy's coming home!
Tsuna: No way. You said he fell off the face of the earth, and stayed there!
Nana: Silly boy, how do you think I managed to afford to feed all these freeloaders without your dad?
Tsuna: Oh gee, why didn't I think of that? All this time I thought Reborn and Bianchi periodically robbed banks.
Nana: Your dad is a man who works with dirt and sweat!
Tsuna:... Please don't tell me he works for the porn industry.
Bianchi: I knew there was a reason why we thought Papan was a taboo subject.
*
Tsuna: My dad's coming back after two years of absence.
Gokudera: THAT'S WONDERFUL NEWS! I MUST VISIT THE SOURCE OF YOUR AWESOME GENE POOL, TENTH.
Tsuna: He deals with redirecting traffic and dirt.
Gokudera: HE DIGS DIRT! THAT IS SO NOBLE!
Yamamoto: Lemme guess, he's a drug smuggler who does pimping on the sidelines?
Gokudera: HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH THE NAME OF THE TENTH'S FATHER!
Yamamoto: Hey, I'm the only normal guy around here, so I gotta say something normal.
Tsuna: I don't know anymore, he's just so random. I don't know if I want to see him. He's probably a loser like me. * gets on emo soapbox *
Yamamoto: Don't be depressed Tsuna! Let's play hooky and go watch porn!
Gokudera and Tsuna: ...
Yamamoto: Or we could just hang out.
Gokudera: Fuck, I'm not supposed to agree with you but the storyline demands it so, yeah, let's hang out but don't bring any...
*
Gokudera: ... brats.
Kyoko: Tsuna, your bovine toddler is frolicking in the discount underwear bin of the ladies' department store.
Lambo: TORPEDO BRA EYESHADE FIRE! (this really happens)
Tsuna: Cockblocked by a five-year-old in a cow suit, story of my life.
Kyoko: Don't worry about it, my last boyfriend had an N-Sync fetish. Anyway, here's your power-up drink Tsuna. You might need it.
Tsuna: * tries to go for an aura of smooth * Oh but all I need is you Kyoko-chan.
Kyoko: * is immune to the aura of smooth * No seriously, you'll need it. Of course I'm totally not presupposing something will happen.
* cue in some Basil Toppings on Tuna *
Basil: !!! Thou art!
Tsuna: Thou art? Ohmygod not another weirdo from a fucked up time.
Basil: Sawada-dono!
Tsuna: It must be a 100-years-ago bazooka.
Basil: Thou art in great danger!
Tsuna: Tell me something I don't know- OHMYGOD ITS A SHARK! WITH HAIR! LONG HAIR!
Gokudera: IN LEATHER!
Yamamoto: WITH A SWORD!
Squalo: YAY, MORE FRESH MEAT FOR ME.
Reborn: We are so screwed.
*
Basil: We must leave this place at once!
Tsuna: Who the hell are you?
Squalo: * catches up * Seriously, this is getting old. * SHARK ATTACK *
Basil: * IS PWNED *
Squalo: So, trash. Let's do some talking.
Tsuna: Please don't eat me. I'll probably taste like chemicals. And loser. You don't want to get infected, trust me.
Gokudera: * to the rescue! * Lay a hand on the Tenth and I'll blow you sky high.
Squalo: ... Eww.
Yamamoto: Um. He means blow you UP sky high. With dynamite.
Tsuna: * facepalm *
Gokudera: TIME FOR SHARK FIN SOUP!
Squalo: Tsk.Tsk. Kids.
Yamamoto and Gokudera: * ARE PWNED *
Potted Plant Reborn: Well shit. Do you know what time is it, Dame-Tsuna?
Tsuna: I don't suppose Hammer is the right answer?
Potted Plant Reborn: No. Here's the gloves- wear them, strip to your skivvies, you know the drill.
Tsuna: * sighs * And I wore the pink digimon boxers today too.
Dying Will Tsuna: RAAAAR! BEAT THIS SHARK AS IF I WERE TO DIIIIIEE!
Squalo: Aw, you're adorable.
Dying Will Tsuna: * IS PWNED *
Basil: I SHALL STOP THEE! * throws out thing that goes KABOOOM *
Squalo: * coughs * Fucketh you! Oh FUCKETH. FUCK. WITHOUT THE ETH. Okay, I'm not going to let you get away with this until I start cursing properly again.
*
Basil: We don't have much time. Sawada-dono, please accept these rings as a token of my loyalty.
Tsuna: Seriously? You're giving me jewelry at a time like this?
Squalo: * pops up again * The twerp does have the worst timing, doesn't he? Also, hi FOUND YOU.
Tsuna: LOOK WHATEVER IT IS, I DIDN'T DO IT.
* Suddenly a wild Bucking Horse Dino appears! *
Dino: You've been a bad bad boy Squalo. Rough housing kids is against the Mafia rules of engagement. You need to take them to dinner first at least.
Tsuna: That's not what you said with--
Dino: Yamamoto doesn't count.
Squalo: Cavallone? Holy shit, this trash has got connections!
Dino: That's right! Tsuna's my brother from another mother, so you'll drop him now or I'll have you taste my whip.
Squalo: ... Eww.
Romario: Boss, with all due respect, stop being such a slut.
Dino: * grumbles * It's not like you're not the one who can't perform without the presence of family. The bucking horse needs to be maintained you know.
Squalo: Okay, fuck this, I've had enough innuendo today to last me three lifetimes so I'll just take that and scram. * snatches box *
Basil: He hath taken the rings!
Everyone: Damneth it!
Basil: NO! Don't leave! Weren't thou going to sliceth us in three?
Squalo: Look kid, if I stay here with you any longer I'd be speaking Ye Old English for the rest of my life, and between that and giving Xanxus-sama an excuse to smack a bitch, I'd rather get smacked.
Tsuna: ... Did he just call himself a bitch?
Squalo: Toodles!
--
... I have absolutely no excuse for that. Moving on!
Look, kasugai-gummie I actually wrote 6918! I can no longer recall how this came to be actually- possibly a writing exercise way way back. The file is aptly labeled lol_violent_hatesex.doc. My KHR exposure is sadder than a sad panda unfortunately, but I will not deny that 6918 is kinda hot, even though I still have difficulty thinking of Hibari as a sexual being. Also, I've acutally never read past Chapter 160 of the manga (seriously) ahaha, so do not expect anything extravagant.
5.) Working Title- Fractal, NC-17 (Warnings for blood, violence, asphyxiation, and disjointed writing)
Look no more, only the weak use their eyes
But I will teach you right
Come with me, come inside
Shed your sails, shed your pride~*
Every night, it always comes to this.
"I hate you," Hibari growls, before slamming Mukuro against the wall, his tonfa pressing tightly against the bump of Mukuro's adam's apple.
That infuriating laugh still manages to escape Mukuro's lips. It's the first sign that something isn't right because no one should be able to laugh with a length of steel pressed against one's windpipe. Hibari's eyes narrow, but Mukuro is implacable and manages to rasp out-
"But you still want me to fuck you."
An undefinable fury rises up in Hibari, partly because of the temerity of that assertion, but mostly because it's not completely untrue. "Shut up, herbivore," he snarls, and he brings his other hand down to rain punishment on his enemy, only for it to meet red bricks.
Mukuro's arms snake themselves around him, and Hibari freezes for a second, feels a traitorous shiver dance down his spine, acutely aware of Mukuro's breath on his nape. Mukuro says nothing, but he laughs again, and the sound buzzes at Hibari like demon-possessed flies. It's enough to snap him back to his senses, and he twists around and gets away with a quick blow to Mukuro's side, spikes blooming on his tonfas as they scrape at cloth and tear the flesh beneath. Mukuro deflects the next blow easily however, his trident flashing as it swings in a graceful arc.
They fight like cats might, hissing, claws extended, and always landing gracefully on their feet.
Hibari knows more than anyone that to fight Mukuro, it's not your weapons that matter; twin sticks of steel is a poor defense against a million razor petals. It's all in his head, or so he tells himself, but likewise, Mukuro's mind is as sharp as a diamond-edged glaive and Hibari feels that well enough.
It always ends like this too. Hibari knows how to fight against solid matter, knows how to interpret and deal with the crunch of bones, the flaring pain of a spreading bruise, the flow of blood from an open wound. But Mukuro in his true form, is mist, weightless and invasive; he floats through Hibari, pinning him with nothing more than shadows, and just like that, the cloud guardian finds himself flat on his back, and unable to breathe.
Mukuro towers over him, the tines of his trident hovering tantalizingly close across Hibari's skin, slicing the linen polo, and exposing his chest, where his lungs are beginning to burn beneath them. Then, Mukuro drops down, never breaking eye contact all the while, and licks the blood of Hibari's split lip. Hibari doesn't move, doesn't make a sound of disgust, because even though wants to kill the bastard and rip him apart, a small part of him wants this.
Mukuro waits until the last possible second, until Hibari's vision starts to darken, before releasing the shadow-pressure on Hibari's throat and finally kissing him. The relief is immediate, Hibari's lungs expanding with the blessing of breath, breath that his tormentor allows him. He refuses to think about the irony of it, as Mukuro's tongue slips into his mouth, scouring his palate with some sort of loose-limbed familiarity. Hibari closes his eyes and pushes back, rebellious to the very last.
These are the only times he allows this, the bloodlust of battle making him dizzy with a hunger to be touched- to break and be broken- to feel Mukuro's pulse hitch, as he sinks his teeth into the mist guardian's lower lip. Here, Hibari loses, and he wants; he needs and he hates.
Mukuro breaks away then, and his mismatched eyes dance with an unholy light. His fingers skitter down the sides of Hibari's hips, a touch so light it seems almost out of place. They make quick work of his trousers, and Hibari is so so hard, he only manages a soft snarl when Mukuro's fingers curl around his cock.
Like some sort of twisted mockery, it starts to rain cherry blossoms, falling down on them in a lazy spiral, lovely and sharp. Mukuro leans over, propping himself up with the hand that isn't working Hibari's cock, and the next thing Hibari knows, Mukuro is inside him. He almost screams then- the pain is searing and exquisite, but he doesn't expect anything less so he stays silent, though the gaze he meets Mukuro's eyes with smolders with pure venom.
Petals petals everywhere, soft and deadly at the same time, caressing Hibari's cheek like a delicate, manicured talon, drawing thin lines of red, as if saying 'I can't make you blush, but I will paint your cheeks rouge anyway.'
But there is nothing delicate about this, because Mukuro starts to move then, fucking Hibari against the self-styled field of flowers sharp as thorns. He grits his teeth and takes it, pale pink petals delivering flash-scatter pain across his flesh. He lashes back in a futile gesture of rebellion, his arms reaching up and around, tonfas finding purchase on Mukuro's back, raking down, down, tearing across cloth, painting jagged crimson stripes on the exposed skin. They bleed as they fuck, and Hibari thinks, It wouldn't be right any other way.
Mukuro smile is feral, and he retaliates in the most excruciating way. The trident pricks Hibari ever so slightly, but it is enough, and he feels it then, Mukuro's presence invading him, pushing against the corners of his organs, possessing every breathing cell in his body, like the worst and purest violation Hibari could ever have. This is what it's like to have someone completely inside of him, Mukuro's cock hitting repeatedly against his prostate, producing a veritable star-burst against his eyelids; Mukuro's laughter echoing in Hibari's mind like a love affair gone wrong. For those few moments, Mukuro is everywhere- wrapping around him, driving into him, coiling deep within him, and it's revolting and beautiful at the same time. For those few moments, Hibari's world shrinks to the red and blue of Mukuro's eyes and he lets himself go, allows the devil his due.
"Don't forget," Mukuro whispers, and Hibari can no longer tell if it's spoken to his ear or directly in his mind. "I'll see you again, Hibari Kyouya."
Again and again, Mukuro gives and Hibari takes, and one final slam later, he comes undone, his mind splintering into a thousand tiny shards.
*
Hibari wakes up, and opens his eyes to light and an open sky; Mukuro eyes are forever closed, ensconced in glass and trapped in the dark.
Today is a new day.
-fin-
*Lyrics are from the gorgeous song the King, by the Romanovs. It reminds me of Mukuro somewhat.
SLAM DUNK
6.) The fic where Sakuragi part-times as a home service massuese and Rukawa is a leeeeettle bit of a possessive dork. Warning: CRACK
Sakuragi Hanamichi is quicker to anger than a jackrabbit on steroids. This is a fact. His anger manifests itself in only one, predictable means- violence, both verbal and physical (on himself and others, usually the latter). Whenever someone makes him angry, his first (only) reaction is to jump to fisticuffs with the offender until one of them stumbles away with a severe limp. Another fact- the one with the severe limp is never Sakuragi.
Now however, while he is positively puce with indignation and fury, he has yet to throw even a single punch.
"You..."
Before him, Rukawa Kaede sits in complete stony silence, looking bored and utterly unapologetic.
"You. Dammit, you stupid FOX. I can't believe that you--" He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to believe the words about to come out of his mouth.
Rukawa summarizes his justification in four words. "Sendoh is a pervert."
Sakuragi explodes. "YOU WERE BREAKING AND ENTERING IN MY CUSTOMER'S HOME--"
"It's for your safety, idiot."
"--INSTALLING A CAMERA IN HIS BEDROOM--"
"They were precautionary measures."
"--AND WATCHING THE GODDAMN VIDEOS WITH MY HARD-EARNED HOME THEATER SYSTEM."
"If you must know, I'm not doing this for enjoyment - I almost lost my lunch when I saw what Sendoh was hiding in that drawer."
Sakuragi almost asks what it is and shuts his mouth quickly, because that's what the sneaky fox wants- to distract the tensai from the fact that Rukawa, for all intents and purposes, has gone completely insane. "IF YOU GET CAUGHT AND I LOSE THIS JOB THIS IS ALL GOING TO BE YOUR FAULT YOU CRAZY-- "
The wall gets its twenty seventh crack in the week.
"POSSESSIVE--"
A table is upended.
"--STUPID FOX!"
The third hard object is thrown at Rukawa's head (a clipboard this time), and Sakuragi stomps to the nearest wall and gives it a resounding headbutt. He is acting like a psycho. Good.
Rukawa scowls and rubs his forehead, where the clipboard hit him. "If you'd just keep your services inside the clinic, this would have all been avoided," he says, in the tones of someone who is convinced that he is perfectly reasonable.
Hanamichi gapes at him, his mind threatening to short-circuit at the absolute, colossal nerve. "Are you actually telling me that this is MY FAULT?" he all but screeches.
Rukawa is admittedly one of the worst students in Shohoku High, but he is smart enough to know that the answer to that question is not 'yes.' "No. Like I said, it's that no-good, pervert Sendoh's fault."
"Just because he's always availing of the full-body special does NOT mean that he's a pervert."
"He is. He keeps making those stupid orgasm faces when you rub his neck muscles."
Sakuragi feels his mind's eye melt. "HOW DO YOU EVEN- ARGH- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
Rukawa sighs, wondering how his boyfriend could possibly be this blind and delusional to the intentions of men who are not Rukawa. "Look," he says instead, going for a different tack. "It's not like I've been caught."
"AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?"
"Keep yelling do'aho, people from Tibet will hear eventually."
Sakuragi abruptly shuts his mouth. "You are trying to ruin my life."
Rukawa rolls his eyes. "I just want to make sure no one tries to take advantage of your stupidity." He realizes this is not the smartest thing to say and hurriedly adds. "You almost fell for the trap of that American dude, Okita."
"What." Sakuragi blinks. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He almost convinced you that a handjob counts as a special form of sensual massage that one time."
"Wait wait." Things are moving too fast for Sakuragi to follow. "I never told you about that. How did you-" Sakuragi's face suddenly contorts in that rare moment where his mind starts adding two and two and then rapidly concludes that the answer is four. "YOU MEAN THERE ARE OTHERS?!"
Rukawa shrugs. "I don't take any chances."
"Who," Sakuragi is shaking. "Else."
"Maki, Fujima, Okita, Hanagata," Rukawa ticks off the list with his fingers, oblivious to the way Sakuragi's face goes redder and redder with each name.
"Mitsui-senpai, Kogure-senpai, Mito-"
"YOHEI?"
"Oh, and Akagi."
Sakuragi chokes back a scream. "You put a surveillance camera in Gori's BEDROOM? Are you kidding me?"
Rukawa wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Not him. The sister."
Sakuragi's world then erupts in a violent burst of hellfire and brimstone. Flaming debris and molten chunks of hot rocks fall around him as he flails around, torn between searching for a suitably pointy object to hurl at his stupid boyfriend's face or running out the door and buying the cheapest one-way ticket out of Japan before Akagi finds him and makes him take a sight-seeing trip through a meat chopper.
Rukawa just watches him and his silence is what causes Sakuragi to snap back to reality and to lunge forward, fisting his boyfriend's collar and dragging him off the chair. "This is the part where you tell me you're just fucking with me, and that everything is just a great practical joke," he grinds out, the vein on his forehead throbbing dangerously. "If not, I'd better be waking up any time soon. Otherwise..."
Rukawa's gaze is implacable. "Otherwise what?"
"Otherwise, I'm never having sex with you again."
Rukawa wishes he's a better liar. God knows how much effort he made figuring out how to keep Sakuragi in the same room as him long enough to fuck before they killed each other all those months ago. He still doesn't understand why Sakuragi is so mad- Rukawa's methods may be a bit unconventional but it is all done In the Name of Love. And protection from the likes of Sendoh and the evil that he and his kin represent of course. "Hanamichi," he says, using the name he reserves for extremely delicate situations like this one. "It's not wise to make life-changing decisions when you're upset."
"UPSET?" Sakuragi shouts, before he remembers he's not supposed to be yelling and lowers his voice with great difficulty. "I'm beyond upset. I'm furious. I want to murder small animals. I want to carve out your spleen with a butter knife."
Rukawa looks far too unconcerned for someone who was freshly threatened with disembowelment via dinner cutlery, but then again, Hanamichi's death threats are things he deals with five times before breakfast. "Alright. I'm sorry," he concedes, more out of lack of energy to keep arguing than any real remorse. "I'll take them out first chance I get. Happy?"
Sakuragi huffs, but he lets Rukawa go. "You'd fucking better. And don't get caught. If you do, I'll deny everything."
Rukawa sits down and makes a big show of deleting the videos from his laptop. "I did find out some useful things you know."
Sakuragi groans. "I don't want to know. Really."
"Mitsui-senpai calls Kogure-senpai the most disgusting nicknames--"
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW KITSUNE!"
"Kogure-senpai can touch his knees to his ears--"
"OHMYGOD EWWWW SHUTUP SHUT UP"
"Fujima's into BDSM and Maki likes to call himself Daddy--"
"SOMEONE PLEASE END MY LIFE!"
"And they want me to become the bacon in their double down sandwich."
"LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR - WAIT WHAT?"
Rukawa shrugs, making it clear that he gives this information as much weight as a cold fart. "They want me in a threesome."
Silence. Then Sakuragi growls. "I'm going to kill them."
Works every time. Rukawa fights down a self-satisfied smirk and stands up, wrapping his arms around his hot-headed boyfriend from behind instead. "See," he says in the most soothing voice he can manage under the circumstances. "The end justifies the means."
The threat of other people's designs on his boyfriend seems to mollify Sakuragi enough to not attempt to shrug out of Rukawa's grabby hands. At least that's what Rukawa thinks until Sakuragi straightens up, and very quietly says, "Kitsune, I am still really angry right now, and I still want to smash your face in so I am going to pretend that that's your pencil case jabbing me in the back."
Rukawa bites back a curse as he looks down. Stupid teenage hormones. Brain really needs to lecture Dick about waking up in the most inconvenient times which may result to Body receiving a sound clobbering. "Will you stop being mad at me if I give you a blowjob?"
"Stop trying to seduce me when I'm mad at you! That's cheating!"
Rukawa responds by licking that tiny spot where Sakuragi's ear meets his neck, a move that has been proven to render higher thought functions impossible, though considering this is Sakuragi, higher thought function is usually unlikely anyway. So really, it comes to no surprise that Sakuragi closes his eyes and grudgingly relents.
"You have the rest of the month to clear all the evidence," he says gruffly, trying to compensate for the blush on his cheeks. "And I want a blowjob for each day that that task is not completed."
Rukawa tries not to think what this would mean for his jaw. "Deal."
"Haruko-chan's camera should be the first to go."
"Fine."
"Okay." Sakuragi takes a deep breath and checks his watch. "I have to go. I have a client call in 30 minutes."
Rukawa fights down a growl of displeasure, but he distangles himself from Sakuragi grudgingly. "Who?"
"Okita. And no, I'm not going to give him a 'sensual massage' if that's what you're going to ask."
"Hn. I'll be watching him anyway."
This time, Sakuragi does deck Rukawa, though not as hard as he is capable of doing, because the tensai is a considerate boyfriend and it won't do to have his kitsune nursing a handicap for the promised oral sex later. "You have the rest of the month Kitsune," he calls out as he grabs his things and stomps out the door. "And I expect that blowjob when I get back."
Once the door slams shut, Rukawa reaches into his pocket for his phone, which immediately starts to ring. "Detective," he answers, rubbing his jaw where Sakuragi had hit him, and glaring balefully at the closed door. "Yeah, he found out... Yes, plan B, and don't get caught..."
-fin-
Clearly, I got lazy by the end of this fic- I'll polish it up sometime probably. I just couldn't be arsed to do it today.
And that's it. I've still got a folder full of crap I haven't finished but these are the most coherent ones / ones that don't leave a bad taste in my mouth after reading. They all need to be refined to be honest, but at least putting these out there will give me motivation to actually finish them.
PRINCE OF TENNIS
1.) From the crack fic prompted by arccie involving Ryoma and Tokugawa cosplaying as Ciel and Sebastian and Fuji somehow making money out of it:
"Is this Buchou's polo?" Ryoma couldn't believe it- it's too good to be true. Is he going to wear something without ruffles now?
"Yes, it's perfect for this last bit," Fuji explains, simultaneously handing Ryoma's last costume change to Horio and sending the other freshmen on his way. "It's way too big for you- meaning, it's just the right size for this particular costume."
Too big is an understatement. Ryoma is practically swimming in Tezuka's polo, but he looks happy about it, judging by the way he is rubbing the too-long sleeve against his cheek and inhaling deeply. He is only brought back to present when Fuji's camera flashes again.
"If you've had your fill of sniffing Tezuka's laundry detergent," Fuji says cordially, "We should get ready with your final setting."
Echizen scowls and stands up, Tezuka's polo riding just above his knees. "Okay, fine. Can I have my pants then?"
Fuji gives him a blinding smile. "Saa... who said anything about pants?"
Ryoma is suddenly seized with a palpable, paralyzing terror, like the exact moment before getting bodyslammed by the Hulk.
"What... what do you mean there's none."
"I think it's quite clear," Fuji answers pleasantly. "You've been complaining of wearing stuffy clothes all day, so we figured you'd appreciate a little bit of ah, dressing down."
The horror of this implication has not died down yet when Eiji comes bouncing in. "Hoi hoi, Ochibi what are you still doing here?"
"Eiji-senpai!" The fact that Ryoma is looking to Eiji to see reason is a sign that his desperation has reached an all-time low. "This change of costume has NO PANTS."
"Yes, that's just about right for the bedroom scene, Echizen" Inui says, walking in, a calculator in one hand and his big-ass fake sword in another. "We're actually charging extra for that."
Why is everyone in his team a freak? Ryoma shoots his seniors a look of deepest loathing. "Senpai, I am not going out there without pants. At least give me pajamas or something!"
"No can do, Ochibi," Eiji wags his eyebrows at Ryoma in a way that cements his status as the worst Kenshin Himura cosplayer in the history of ever. "You wouldn't be in-character otherwise."
Ryoma tries very hard not to scream. "This is indecent exposure you know."
"It's that or this, Echizen." Fuji then brandishes a somewhat familiar elaborate pink gown with enough frills and lace to bigi Atobe's yoi na, complete with a pink flowery hat, matching wig and- Ryoma cringes- a whalebone corset. He then vaguely remembers that it's the same gown Ciel was wearing in that one episode he watched earlier.
"You'd look lovely in this," Fuji says, stroking the dress with reverence. "After all, this wouldn't be your first time wearing a pink lacy gown right?"
Ryoma flushes, his traitorous mind bringing forth unwanted memories of his brief Cinderella stint in that Rikkaidai play, which ranks among the top five Incidents of Complete and Utter Humiliation in his life, up there with that time his mother showed mortifying toddler pictures of Ryoma experimenting with her make-up to Tezuka-buchou.
So. It's a choice between indecent exposure and dressing like a high-class Victorian hooker. He mentally calculates the chances he has of knocking Fuji, Inui and Eiji with the cookie tray, racing out the room and locking himself inside the nearest bathroom til the day is over.
Even without Inui-senpai's calculating powers, the probability would be 0. The cookie tray is unwieldy, he's still pantsless, and all three of them actually have swords or at least a serviceable substitute of one.
He looks longingly out the window instead. Fuji follows his gaze and smiles. "Don't even think about it. I had the windows bolted from the outside."
Well, there goes the noble suicide route.
"If Buchou asks me why I'm leaving for America and leaving this pillar of Seigaku business behind, this is why," he growls instead, and stomps out of the dressing area.
----
2.) From the Tokugawa/Ryoma/Tezuka triangle fic requested by my good friend blue_eyed_fox (The whole fic's composition is actually 50% porn, but this post has enough porn as it is so you'll get a preview of angsty tennis instead):
Tezuka arrives in Narita International Airport quietly, with no fanfare, no press, no paparazzi. He has taken great pains to be inconspicuous, even going so far as to wear a hat and dark sunglasses. In the sea of travelers, he is just another face in the crowd, a Japanese Citizen going back home. The Roland Garros trophy is a heavy but comforting weight inside his carry-on bag, wrapped around his old Seigaku jacket, and stowed with his rackets.
It's the first time in four years that he has come back to his home country, and the act of returning feels like hooks tugging him in different directions. To be sure, he misses Japan, misses its politeness, its busyness, its festivals and sakura trees. Most of all, he misses the people he left behind.
But returning also means facing questions he doesn’t have answers to, facing solutions he doesn’t want to make.
Facing people he never said goodbye to.
Still, he doesn’t waste time. He taps out 'I am in Japan for two weeks' on his cellphone, intending to send it to Oishi and Fuji.
He ends up sending it to Ryoma instead. He hasn't even placed the phone back in his pocket when it vibrates with a reply.
'Tomorrow, usual place, 1500h. I'll bring the balls.'
The message is curt, bold and presumptious, but Tezuka feels himself smile with relief. It's been four years.
He misses this -him- the most.
*
Ryoma is waiting for him the next day at the Haruno Courts. Tezuka thinks this show of punctuality is one of the many changes Ryoma has made in the four years they haven’t seen each other and wonders what else the younger boy will surprise him with. He walks towards Ryoma until they are standing right in front of each other. Tezuka is surprised that they are seeing eye-to-eye.
The years have been good on Ryoma. Tezuka has seen pictures of him as time went by, but they're nothing compared to the person in front of him right now. Ryoma’s face has lost the baby curves and gained sharp angles; his inky hair has grown out, bangs hanging on his forehead with a sort of disheveled charm. His body is no longer boyish-still lithe but a bit more filled out, long coltish limbs imbued with hidden power. His eyes though, remain the same- large, feline and glinting gold whenever they catch Tezuka’s gaze.
He is strange and familiar all at once, and Tezuka finds it hard to breathe.
"Does anyone else know you're here?" Echizen asks by way of greeting.
Tezuka shakes his head. "I haven't told anyone else."
Echizen smirks, satisfied. "Good." The unspoken I get you all to myself hangs in the air between them.
They walk in silence towards the court. They've never needed much words; whatever they need to say, they say it through tennis, through the bounce of ball against gut, the finality of game points, the arcs and lines of ball movements.
Before they call the serve, Ryoma looks up and smiles brilliantly at him. "I missed you, Buchou."
"Aa." is all Tezuka replies, because his mouth has gone dry and his heart is scraping painfully against his ribs at the weight of the words. He decides to tell him he feels the same in the only way he knows how.
"Five-set match, Echizen."
Ryoma's eyes widen at this, but then a slow grin splits his face, and the excitement is palpable in his eyes.
Then they play.
They play until his lungs feel like they're on fire, like there's not enough air in the world to breathe. They play until sweat cascades down his face, slipping into his eyes, his mouth. He looks at Ryoma's form across the net, bathed in the afternoon glow and it's like he can taste the sun, hot and golden, filling his mouth with light, possibility, Ryoma.
They play, and nothing else matters.
*
Tokugawa watches them from his car, parked some ways beneath the pillars of the train tracks. The match taking place is nothing short of captivating, almost as if he's witnessing something between them turning sublime.
He knows that best way to understand the enigma that is Echizen Ryoma is to watch him play. Echizen's tennis speaks volumes; within the seven lines, he hides nothing and says everything.
He doesn't know how much he still doesn't understand until he sees him play Tezuka.
Tezuka and Echizen play tennis so intimately, it borders on obscene. It's as if for those two, tennis IS the sex- they kiss with each time the ball slams against the gut of their rackets, they fuck every time their spines arch to make a serve. Echizen's tennis propels Tezuka to dizzying heights; Tezuka's tennis brings Echizen to his knees.
Echizen loses the fifth set, 6-3, his crimson racket cluttering uselessly on the ground, his body exhausted beyond its limits, yet Tokugawa has never seen him so happy, sinking into mutual euphoria with Tezuka. It goes against everything he thinks he knows about Echizen, and his attitude towards winning. But then, he remembers how he felt when Echizen won against him a few weeks ago, and stops wondering.
But that explains a lot.
"What's with you guys and your obsession with propriety?"
"Older than me. Hot. Doesn't talk too much. Plays good tennis."
He wants to laugh- realization hitting him like a battering ram. Instead he guns the ignition and drives away, just as Echizen strides towards the net towards Tezuka, a perfect replica of how he was three weeks ago in the High School courts.
-tbc-
I'm 80% done with both of these two (last word count so far is 9k for the first, 8k for the second)- started writing around 3 weeks ago, but work kind of kept dragging me across the country so I'm only getting back to them now. Hopefully, I'll finish them by end of May.
TSUBASA RESERVOIR CHRONICLES:
3.) From a fic I started writing after reading Infinity Arc a.k.a the arc of OTP BREAKAGE (Fai/Sakura, hints of Kurogane/Fai, NC-17).
It is not affection or even love that drives him to do this. Rather, it is a twisted sense of duty, mired with what he fools himself into thinking as mutual desperation. The princess' fingers ghost over his lips, a clement gesture that speaks a message too cautious for words.
He tells himself that it is mutual need and affection that drives him to do this, to strip her of her garments, taking great care to move her injured leg gently. Her hair fans across the pillow, and there's moisture on the groove between her nose and upper lip, so he reaches out and thumbs it away. She looks at him with eyes that long for someone else, and it takes all his strength not to quail under her gaze.
Forgive me princess, he thinks, as he replaces his thumb with his lips, kissing her slowly and deeply, because any other way would be an insult. She is beautiful, and so, so fragile, a porcelain doll in his palm. It would be the easiest thing in the world to break her.
With Kurogane, he always feels like he's burning- his hatred, guilt and endless feeling of helplessness akin to self-immolation. Kurogane is always hot, his touches rough and unrefined, branding maps of heat on Fai's skin. His blood is liquid fire down Fai's throat, burning as it nourishes him.
With Sakura, he feels like he's drowning and taking her with him, and kissing her, sharing one breath is the only thing that will keep them both alive. Her skin and touch is cold, all warmth having fled from her when he left.
Fai has never been warm all his life; he is of Celes, of the world of ice, and perhaps this is why he's drawn to her now, cold beckoning to cold, splintered ice shards coalescing to stay solid. They can't afford to melt away.
Pleasure is not happiness, but it is the only substitute he can provide, the only salve they can apply to each other. She keens, moans, and spreads herself open like a bloom. They fuck like a perversity of a sacred ritual- she is his religion (his sin), and this is how he worships (defiles) her. He convinces himself that she wants this, needs this, convinces himself that he deserves to touch her with his butcher's hands. Her eyes are shut, and her lithe body responds accordingly, even as he knows her heart is breaking.
He convinces himself that this is all for her, and holds his own gratification until he feels her shuddering against him. A few more thrusts, and he crushes the guilt that comes along with the knife of pleasure in his brain when he comes.
He doesn't look at her as he pulls out, but he catches his eyes in the dirty window and they are filled with shame.
The following are shit I wrote WAY WAY BACK. Think, 2008 or something.
KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN
4.) Sometime during my very brief stint in that fandom, I was reading one of the earliest chapters (the Squalo - Basil chase scene) and thought to make a parody of it:
Targets 82 to 84 parody:
Squalo: Xanxus-sama is making me chase a twerp with his head on fire for what? Oh who cares, I'll slice him in three.
Basil: I will not answer thee. ::flees::
Squalo: What's with the Arthurian English? Never mind, I'll slice you in three, RAWR.
Basil: *runs and trips over the side of a building*
Squalo: You know, it's usually a bad idea to stop to look at random pictures when you're hanging off the edge of a very tall building. Also, when I'm about to slice you in three. Just saying.
Basil: Oh fucketh you. * somehow escapes anyway *
*
Tsuna: Mom, what's for din- what the fuck, did I just become King?
Nana: Of course not Tsuna. Daddy's coming home!
Tsuna: No way. You said he fell off the face of the earth, and stayed there!
Nana: Silly boy, how do you think I managed to afford to feed all these freeloaders without your dad?
Tsuna: Oh gee, why didn't I think of that? All this time I thought Reborn and Bianchi periodically robbed banks.
Nana: Your dad is a man who works with dirt and sweat!
Tsuna:... Please don't tell me he works for the porn industry.
Bianchi: I knew there was a reason why we thought Papan was a taboo subject.
*
Tsuna: My dad's coming back after two years of absence.
Gokudera: THAT'S WONDERFUL NEWS! I MUST VISIT THE SOURCE OF YOUR AWESOME GENE POOL, TENTH.
Tsuna: He deals with redirecting traffic and dirt.
Gokudera: HE DIGS DIRT! THAT IS SO NOBLE!
Yamamoto: Lemme guess, he's a drug smuggler who does pimping on the sidelines?
Gokudera: HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH THE NAME OF THE TENTH'S FATHER!
Yamamoto: Hey, I'm the only normal guy around here, so I gotta say something normal.
Tsuna: I don't know anymore, he's just so random. I don't know if I want to see him. He's probably a loser like me. * gets on emo soapbox *
Yamamoto: Don't be depressed Tsuna! Let's play hooky and go watch porn!
Gokudera and Tsuna: ...
Yamamoto: Or we could just hang out.
Gokudera: Fuck, I'm not supposed to agree with you but the storyline demands it so, yeah, let's hang out but don't bring any...
*
Gokudera: ... brats.
Kyoko: Tsuna, your bovine toddler is frolicking in the discount underwear bin of the ladies' department store.
Lambo: TORPEDO BRA EYESHADE FIRE! (this really happens)
Tsuna: Cockblocked by a five-year-old in a cow suit, story of my life.
Kyoko: Don't worry about it, my last boyfriend had an N-Sync fetish. Anyway, here's your power-up drink Tsuna. You might need it.
Tsuna: * tries to go for an aura of smooth * Oh but all I need is you Kyoko-chan.
Kyoko: * is immune to the aura of smooth * No seriously, you'll need it. Of course I'm totally not presupposing something will happen.
* cue in some Basil Toppings on Tuna *
Basil: !!! Thou art!
Tsuna: Thou art? Ohmygod not another weirdo from a fucked up time.
Basil: Sawada-dono!
Tsuna: It must be a 100-years-ago bazooka.
Basil: Thou art in great danger!
Tsuna: Tell me something I don't know- OHMYGOD ITS A SHARK! WITH HAIR! LONG HAIR!
Gokudera: IN LEATHER!
Yamamoto: WITH A SWORD!
Squalo: YAY, MORE FRESH MEAT FOR ME.
Reborn: We are so screwed.
*
Basil: We must leave this place at once!
Tsuna: Who the hell are you?
Squalo: * catches up * Seriously, this is getting old. * SHARK ATTACK *
Basil: * IS PWNED *
Squalo: So, trash. Let's do some talking.
Tsuna: Please don't eat me. I'll probably taste like chemicals. And loser. You don't want to get infected, trust me.
Gokudera: * to the rescue! * Lay a hand on the Tenth and I'll blow you sky high.
Squalo: ... Eww.
Yamamoto: Um. He means blow you UP sky high. With dynamite.
Tsuna: * facepalm *
Gokudera: TIME FOR SHARK FIN SOUP!
Squalo: Tsk.Tsk. Kids.
Yamamoto and Gokudera: * ARE PWNED *
Potted Plant Reborn: Well shit. Do you know what time is it, Dame-Tsuna?
Tsuna: I don't suppose Hammer is the right answer?
Potted Plant Reborn: No. Here's the gloves- wear them, strip to your skivvies, you know the drill.
Tsuna: * sighs * And I wore the pink digimon boxers today too.
Dying Will Tsuna: RAAAAR! BEAT THIS SHARK AS IF I WERE TO DIIIIIEE!
Squalo: Aw, you're adorable.
Dying Will Tsuna: * IS PWNED *
Basil: I SHALL STOP THEE! * throws out thing that goes KABOOOM *
Squalo: * coughs * Fucketh you! Oh FUCKETH. FUCK. WITHOUT THE ETH. Okay, I'm not going to let you get away with this until I start cursing properly again.
*
Basil: We don't have much time. Sawada-dono, please accept these rings as a token of my loyalty.
Tsuna: Seriously? You're giving me jewelry at a time like this?
Squalo: * pops up again * The twerp does have the worst timing, doesn't he? Also, hi FOUND YOU.
Tsuna: LOOK WHATEVER IT IS, I DIDN'T DO IT.
* Suddenly a wild Bucking Horse Dino appears! *
Dino: You've been a bad bad boy Squalo. Rough housing kids is against the Mafia rules of engagement. You need to take them to dinner first at least.
Tsuna: That's not what you said with--
Dino: Yamamoto doesn't count.
Squalo: Cavallone? Holy shit, this trash has got connections!
Dino: That's right! Tsuna's my brother from another mother, so you'll drop him now or I'll have you taste my whip.
Squalo: ... Eww.
Romario: Boss, with all due respect, stop being such a slut.
Dino: * grumbles * It's not like you're not the one who can't perform without the presence of family. The bucking horse needs to be maintained you know.
Squalo: Okay, fuck this, I've had enough innuendo today to last me three lifetimes so I'll just take that and scram. * snatches box *
Basil: He hath taken the rings!
Everyone: Damneth it!
Basil: NO! Don't leave! Weren't thou going to sliceth us in three?
Squalo: Look kid, if I stay here with you any longer I'd be speaking Ye Old English for the rest of my life, and between that and giving Xanxus-sama an excuse to smack a bitch, I'd rather get smacked.
Tsuna: ... Did he just call himself a bitch?
Squalo: Toodles!
--
... I have absolutely no excuse for that. Moving on!
Look, kasugai-gummie I actually wrote 6918! I can no longer recall how this came to be actually- possibly a writing exercise way way back. The file is aptly labeled lol_violent_hatesex.doc. My KHR exposure is sadder than a sad panda unfortunately, but I will not deny that 6918 is kinda hot, even though I still have difficulty thinking of Hibari as a sexual being. Also, I've acutally never read past Chapter 160 of the manga (seriously) ahaha, so do not expect anything extravagant.
5.) Working Title- Fractal, NC-17 (Warnings for blood, violence, asphyxiation, and disjointed writing)
Look no more, only the weak use their eyes
But I will teach you right
Come with me, come inside
Shed your sails, shed your pride~*
Every night, it always comes to this.
"I hate you," Hibari growls, before slamming Mukuro against the wall, his tonfa pressing tightly against the bump of Mukuro's adam's apple.
That infuriating laugh still manages to escape Mukuro's lips. It's the first sign that something isn't right because no one should be able to laugh with a length of steel pressed against one's windpipe. Hibari's eyes narrow, but Mukuro is implacable and manages to rasp out-
"But you still want me to fuck you."
An undefinable fury rises up in Hibari, partly because of the temerity of that assertion, but mostly because it's not completely untrue. "Shut up, herbivore," he snarls, and he brings his other hand down to rain punishment on his enemy, only for it to meet red bricks.
Mukuro's arms snake themselves around him, and Hibari freezes for a second, feels a traitorous shiver dance down his spine, acutely aware of Mukuro's breath on his nape. Mukuro says nothing, but he laughs again, and the sound buzzes at Hibari like demon-possessed flies. It's enough to snap him back to his senses, and he twists around and gets away with a quick blow to Mukuro's side, spikes blooming on his tonfas as they scrape at cloth and tear the flesh beneath. Mukuro deflects the next blow easily however, his trident flashing as it swings in a graceful arc.
They fight like cats might, hissing, claws extended, and always landing gracefully on their feet.
Hibari knows more than anyone that to fight Mukuro, it's not your weapons that matter; twin sticks of steel is a poor defense against a million razor petals. It's all in his head, or so he tells himself, but likewise, Mukuro's mind is as sharp as a diamond-edged glaive and Hibari feels that well enough.
It always ends like this too. Hibari knows how to fight against solid matter, knows how to interpret and deal with the crunch of bones, the flaring pain of a spreading bruise, the flow of blood from an open wound. But Mukuro in his true form, is mist, weightless and invasive; he floats through Hibari, pinning him with nothing more than shadows, and just like that, the cloud guardian finds himself flat on his back, and unable to breathe.
Mukuro towers over him, the tines of his trident hovering tantalizingly close across Hibari's skin, slicing the linen polo, and exposing his chest, where his lungs are beginning to burn beneath them. Then, Mukuro drops down, never breaking eye contact all the while, and licks the blood of Hibari's split lip. Hibari doesn't move, doesn't make a sound of disgust, because even though wants to kill the bastard and rip him apart, a small part of him wants this.
Mukuro waits until the last possible second, until Hibari's vision starts to darken, before releasing the shadow-pressure on Hibari's throat and finally kissing him. The relief is immediate, Hibari's lungs expanding with the blessing of breath, breath that his tormentor allows him. He refuses to think about the irony of it, as Mukuro's tongue slips into his mouth, scouring his palate with some sort of loose-limbed familiarity. Hibari closes his eyes and pushes back, rebellious to the very last.
These are the only times he allows this, the bloodlust of battle making him dizzy with a hunger to be touched- to break and be broken- to feel Mukuro's pulse hitch, as he sinks his teeth into the mist guardian's lower lip. Here, Hibari loses, and he wants; he needs and he hates.
Mukuro breaks away then, and his mismatched eyes dance with an unholy light. His fingers skitter down the sides of Hibari's hips, a touch so light it seems almost out of place. They make quick work of his trousers, and Hibari is so so hard, he only manages a soft snarl when Mukuro's fingers curl around his cock.
Like some sort of twisted mockery, it starts to rain cherry blossoms, falling down on them in a lazy spiral, lovely and sharp. Mukuro leans over, propping himself up with the hand that isn't working Hibari's cock, and the next thing Hibari knows, Mukuro is inside him. He almost screams then- the pain is searing and exquisite, but he doesn't expect anything less so he stays silent, though the gaze he meets Mukuro's eyes with smolders with pure venom.
Petals petals everywhere, soft and deadly at the same time, caressing Hibari's cheek like a delicate, manicured talon, drawing thin lines of red, as if saying 'I can't make you blush, but I will paint your cheeks rouge anyway.'
But there is nothing delicate about this, because Mukuro starts to move then, fucking Hibari against the self-styled field of flowers sharp as thorns. He grits his teeth and takes it, pale pink petals delivering flash-scatter pain across his flesh. He lashes back in a futile gesture of rebellion, his arms reaching up and around, tonfas finding purchase on Mukuro's back, raking down, down, tearing across cloth, painting jagged crimson stripes on the exposed skin. They bleed as they fuck, and Hibari thinks, It wouldn't be right any other way.
Mukuro smile is feral, and he retaliates in the most excruciating way. The trident pricks Hibari ever so slightly, but it is enough, and he feels it then, Mukuro's presence invading him, pushing against the corners of his organs, possessing every breathing cell in his body, like the worst and purest violation Hibari could ever have. This is what it's like to have someone completely inside of him, Mukuro's cock hitting repeatedly against his prostate, producing a veritable star-burst against his eyelids; Mukuro's laughter echoing in Hibari's mind like a love affair gone wrong. For those few moments, Mukuro is everywhere- wrapping around him, driving into him, coiling deep within him, and it's revolting and beautiful at the same time. For those few moments, Hibari's world shrinks to the red and blue of Mukuro's eyes and he lets himself go, allows the devil his due.
"Don't forget," Mukuro whispers, and Hibari can no longer tell if it's spoken to his ear or directly in his mind. "I'll see you again, Hibari Kyouya."
Again and again, Mukuro gives and Hibari takes, and one final slam later, he comes undone, his mind splintering into a thousand tiny shards.
*
Hibari wakes up, and opens his eyes to light and an open sky; Mukuro eyes are forever closed, ensconced in glass and trapped in the dark.
Today is a new day.
-fin-
*Lyrics are from the gorgeous song the King, by the Romanovs. It reminds me of Mukuro somewhat.
SLAM DUNK
6.) The fic where Sakuragi part-times as a home service massuese and Rukawa is a leeeeettle bit of a possessive dork. Warning: CRACK
Sakuragi Hanamichi is quicker to anger than a jackrabbit on steroids. This is a fact. His anger manifests itself in only one, predictable means- violence, both verbal and physical (on himself and others, usually the latter). Whenever someone makes him angry, his first (only) reaction is to jump to fisticuffs with the offender until one of them stumbles away with a severe limp. Another fact- the one with the severe limp is never Sakuragi.
Now however, while he is positively puce with indignation and fury, he has yet to throw even a single punch.
"You..."
Before him, Rukawa Kaede sits in complete stony silence, looking bored and utterly unapologetic.
"You. Dammit, you stupid FOX. I can't believe that you--" He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to believe the words about to come out of his mouth.
Rukawa summarizes his justification in four words. "Sendoh is a pervert."
Sakuragi explodes. "YOU WERE BREAKING AND ENTERING IN MY CUSTOMER'S HOME--"
"It's for your safety, idiot."
"--INSTALLING A CAMERA IN HIS BEDROOM--"
"They were precautionary measures."
"--AND WATCHING THE GODDAMN VIDEOS WITH MY HARD-EARNED HOME THEATER SYSTEM."
"If you must know, I'm not doing this for enjoyment - I almost lost my lunch when I saw what Sendoh was hiding in that drawer."
Sakuragi almost asks what it is and shuts his mouth quickly, because that's what the sneaky fox wants- to distract the tensai from the fact that Rukawa, for all intents and purposes, has gone completely insane. "IF YOU GET CAUGHT AND I LOSE THIS JOB THIS IS ALL GOING TO BE YOUR FAULT YOU CRAZY-- "
The wall gets its twenty seventh crack in the week.
"POSSESSIVE--"
A table is upended.
"--STUPID FOX!"
The third hard object is thrown at Rukawa's head (a clipboard this time), and Sakuragi stomps to the nearest wall and gives it a resounding headbutt. He is acting like a psycho. Good.
Rukawa scowls and rubs his forehead, where the clipboard hit him. "If you'd just keep your services inside the clinic, this would have all been avoided," he says, in the tones of someone who is convinced that he is perfectly reasonable.
Hanamichi gapes at him, his mind threatening to short-circuit at the absolute, colossal nerve. "Are you actually telling me that this is MY FAULT?" he all but screeches.
Rukawa is admittedly one of the worst students in Shohoku High, but he is smart enough to know that the answer to that question is not 'yes.' "No. Like I said, it's that no-good, pervert Sendoh's fault."
"Just because he's always availing of the full-body special does NOT mean that he's a pervert."
"He is. He keeps making those stupid orgasm faces when you rub his neck muscles."
Sakuragi feels his mind's eye melt. "HOW DO YOU EVEN- ARGH- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
Rukawa sighs, wondering how his boyfriend could possibly be this blind and delusional to the intentions of men who are not Rukawa. "Look," he says instead, going for a different tack. "It's not like I've been caught."
"AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?"
"Keep yelling do'aho, people from Tibet will hear eventually."
Sakuragi abruptly shuts his mouth. "You are trying to ruin my life."
Rukawa rolls his eyes. "I just want to make sure no one tries to take advantage of your stupidity." He realizes this is not the smartest thing to say and hurriedly adds. "You almost fell for the trap of that American dude, Okita."
"What." Sakuragi blinks. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He almost convinced you that a handjob counts as a special form of sensual massage that one time."
"Wait wait." Things are moving too fast for Sakuragi to follow. "I never told you about that. How did you-" Sakuragi's face suddenly contorts in that rare moment where his mind starts adding two and two and then rapidly concludes that the answer is four. "YOU MEAN THERE ARE OTHERS?!"
Rukawa shrugs. "I don't take any chances."
"Who," Sakuragi is shaking. "Else."
"Maki, Fujima, Okita, Hanagata," Rukawa ticks off the list with his fingers, oblivious to the way Sakuragi's face goes redder and redder with each name.
"Mitsui-senpai, Kogure-senpai, Mito-"
"YOHEI?"
"Oh, and Akagi."
Sakuragi chokes back a scream. "You put a surveillance camera in Gori's BEDROOM? Are you kidding me?"
Rukawa wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Not him. The sister."
Sakuragi's world then erupts in a violent burst of hellfire and brimstone. Flaming debris and molten chunks of hot rocks fall around him as he flails around, torn between searching for a suitably pointy object to hurl at his stupid boyfriend's face or running out the door and buying the cheapest one-way ticket out of Japan before Akagi finds him and makes him take a sight-seeing trip through a meat chopper.
Rukawa just watches him and his silence is what causes Sakuragi to snap back to reality and to lunge forward, fisting his boyfriend's collar and dragging him off the chair. "This is the part where you tell me you're just fucking with me, and that everything is just a great practical joke," he grinds out, the vein on his forehead throbbing dangerously. "If not, I'd better be waking up any time soon. Otherwise..."
Rukawa's gaze is implacable. "Otherwise what?"
"Otherwise, I'm never having sex with you again."
Rukawa wishes he's a better liar. God knows how much effort he made figuring out how to keep Sakuragi in the same room as him long enough to fuck before they killed each other all those months ago. He still doesn't understand why Sakuragi is so mad- Rukawa's methods may be a bit unconventional but it is all done In the Name of Love. And protection from the likes of Sendoh and the evil that he and his kin represent of course. "Hanamichi," he says, using the name he reserves for extremely delicate situations like this one. "It's not wise to make life-changing decisions when you're upset."
"UPSET?" Sakuragi shouts, before he remembers he's not supposed to be yelling and lowers his voice with great difficulty. "I'm beyond upset. I'm furious. I want to murder small animals. I want to carve out your spleen with a butter knife."
Rukawa looks far too unconcerned for someone who was freshly threatened with disembowelment via dinner cutlery, but then again, Hanamichi's death threats are things he deals with five times before breakfast. "Alright. I'm sorry," he concedes, more out of lack of energy to keep arguing than any real remorse. "I'll take them out first chance I get. Happy?"
Sakuragi huffs, but he lets Rukawa go. "You'd fucking better. And don't get caught. If you do, I'll deny everything."
Rukawa sits down and makes a big show of deleting the videos from his laptop. "I did find out some useful things you know."
Sakuragi groans. "I don't want to know. Really."
"Mitsui-senpai calls Kogure-senpai the most disgusting nicknames--"
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW KITSUNE!"
"Kogure-senpai can touch his knees to his ears--"
"OHMYGOD EWWWW SHUTUP SHUT UP"
"Fujima's into BDSM and Maki likes to call himself Daddy--"
"SOMEONE PLEASE END MY LIFE!"
"And they want me to become the bacon in their double down sandwich."
"LALALALALA I CAN'T HEAR - WAIT WHAT?"
Rukawa shrugs, making it clear that he gives this information as much weight as a cold fart. "They want me in a threesome."
Silence. Then Sakuragi growls. "I'm going to kill them."
Works every time. Rukawa fights down a self-satisfied smirk and stands up, wrapping his arms around his hot-headed boyfriend from behind instead. "See," he says in the most soothing voice he can manage under the circumstances. "The end justifies the means."
The threat of other people's designs on his boyfriend seems to mollify Sakuragi enough to not attempt to shrug out of Rukawa's grabby hands. At least that's what Rukawa thinks until Sakuragi straightens up, and very quietly says, "Kitsune, I am still really angry right now, and I still want to smash your face in so I am going to pretend that that's your pencil case jabbing me in the back."
Rukawa bites back a curse as he looks down. Stupid teenage hormones. Brain really needs to lecture Dick about waking up in the most inconvenient times which may result to Body receiving a sound clobbering. "Will you stop being mad at me if I give you a blowjob?"
"Stop trying to seduce me when I'm mad at you! That's cheating!"
Rukawa responds by licking that tiny spot where Sakuragi's ear meets his neck, a move that has been proven to render higher thought functions impossible, though considering this is Sakuragi, higher thought function is usually unlikely anyway. So really, it comes to no surprise that Sakuragi closes his eyes and grudgingly relents.
"You have the rest of the month to clear all the evidence," he says gruffly, trying to compensate for the blush on his cheeks. "And I want a blowjob for each day that that task is not completed."
Rukawa tries not to think what this would mean for his jaw. "Deal."
"Haruko-chan's camera should be the first to go."
"Fine."
"Okay." Sakuragi takes a deep breath and checks his watch. "I have to go. I have a client call in 30 minutes."
Rukawa fights down a growl of displeasure, but he distangles himself from Sakuragi grudgingly. "Who?"
"Okita. And no, I'm not going to give him a 'sensual massage' if that's what you're going to ask."
"Hn. I'll be watching him anyway."
This time, Sakuragi does deck Rukawa, though not as hard as he is capable of doing, because the tensai is a considerate boyfriend and it won't do to have his kitsune nursing a handicap for the promised oral sex later. "You have the rest of the month Kitsune," he calls out as he grabs his things and stomps out the door. "And I expect that blowjob when I get back."
Once the door slams shut, Rukawa reaches into his pocket for his phone, which immediately starts to ring. "Detective," he answers, rubbing his jaw where Sakuragi had hit him, and glaring balefully at the closed door. "Yeah, he found out... Yes, plan B, and don't get caught..."
-fin-
Clearly, I got lazy by the end of this fic- I'll polish it up sometime probably. I just couldn't be arsed to do it today.
And that's it. I've still got a folder full of crap I haven't finished but these are the most coherent ones / ones that don't leave a bad taste in my mouth after reading. They all need to be refined to be honest, but at least putting these out there will give me motivation to actually finish them.