Because I'm a masochist or something...
one-sentence challenge.*
rules: give me a pairing and I'll write you a one-sentence drabble.
- Doesn't matter the pairing or my own personal love or hate for the pairing.
- Doesn't matter the fandom as long as I know it. I will let you know if I don't, but you can always pick another. <3
- Doesn't matter if someone else already demanded said pairing / fandom / whatever. It shall be unique to each of you.
- You can also ask for more than one. and I'll see what I can do.
- This has no time limit and will never expire.
- This is open to everyone stumbling around here.
Finished pieces will be updated here.
- Ruki/Mao/Kyo
Questions were common things among friends who’s sharp instinct caught every beat - here was Kyo, who loved his music and couldn’t care less beyond and Mao; Mao who loved the band and his friends though favoured the benefits over all else, and ultimatly - centre-stage- there was Ruki who loved the band; the friends the men he wholeheartedly gave himself to - they were not a thing - the wicked blonde would wieve whilst Kyo [shitty lier he is] stands there with a knowing smirk; the 29 year old frontman simply had an abundance of love to share.
- Takanori/Mao
"shit, don't stop now Taka." and the man responds in just the opposite. his movements faltering - tempting-fate - he didn’t dare stall completely, not when those nails dug in and that back arched 34°-and-counting and Mao parted lips to mewl for him. just for him. a-match-to-water. “not enough. stop being so fucking nice.” because just like that the moment ends and Takanori flinches before he’s moving to accommodate. a pace that is not his and feels foreign and demanded but god knows he’d do anything for this man. bitter-sweet-nothings. each hope and dream and promise of love-always from the younger falling on stone-cold-defences; tears that only fall in solitude. away from this thief-of-hearts that prays to another God and sings another’s name.
- Die/Kyo “Hey Die; you leave me and I’ll cut your dick off, got it?” Kyo’s eyes held amusement where maybe amusement was a dangerous expression to accompany the words spoken - reciprocal, the brunette catching onto the humour that came as natural to him as breathing, a clear grin on his lips; not once bothering to delve deeper - it was safer here; with Kyo, safer not to question those harbouring eyes. “And I’ll feed you to Shinya’s flesh eating chihuahua.” Die perked, smug; earning little more than a grunt from the dark haired at his side; his friend for years, lover for mere months - Die still blissfully unaware how easily the younger attached himself and how maybe, just maybe - this once - Kyo wanted the man to breach prideful emotions. Wanted to be given an excuse to admit he wanted to be the man’s last.