Entries tagged with prompts:31

Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/99675.html

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a taste of power [Kamen Rider OOO; Ankh, Shingo, Hina, Eiji.]

Ankh, Shingo, Hina, Eiji. Part of my, "Shingo talks to Ankh inside his mind" alternative-canon (as if we have any proof to definitely say otherwise XD). Set towards the end of episode 6; some dialogue lifted directly from the episode subtitles. 362 words.

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a taste of power

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"You know who she is," Shingo says as Ankh's eyes lock with Hina's. He is wearing a motorbike helmet but the tint of the light means she can see straight through it and into his eyes properly as he passes.

Of course I do, Ankh sneers, Eiji won't stop going on about it.

"No," Shingo says as they bypass her completely and carry on down the road, "I mean who she is to me."

The intense warm feeling that infuses Ankh at his words leaves no room for misunderstanding. Fierce but gentle, profound but freeing.

"You're spilling over onto me," Ankh says out loud. Nobody can hear it; they're alone on the road, and the sound of the engine would cover it anyway. "And I don't have time for this."

To be honest, it's unsettling: human emotion. Overwhelming; and this coming from Ankh who once, eight hundred years ago, devoured human greed like ice candy. It's nothing in comparison to this direct link.

Even Eiji doesn't provide sufficient distraction when Ankh reaches him. Already transformed for battle, and not doing a stellar job of it on his own.

"Hey Ankh," he says as he shakes himself free of Mezool's nest-grubs. "Three Core Medals in a set; that Combo thing... What does it do?"

"It's an incredible amount of power," Ankh says. "You probably wouldn't be able to use it without getting hurt."

"I could say the same for you," Shingo insists inside his mind. Ankh can visualize the accompanying wry smile. The image must be getting pressed upon him by his host-body's owner.

Perhaps Shingo has already wormed his way so quickly inside Ankh's mind that he knows just which buttons to press. Perhaps it is one of those parts of being human that means he can read Ankh so well.

All Ankh knows is that he wants very badly to prove the voice inside his head wrong. Perhaps that's why when Eiji voices the same sort of sentiment when it comes to the medals, he hands them over with no argument.

It's always fun to prove Eiji wrong, after all. Ankh doesn't even have to do anything in order to accomplish that.

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/99449.html

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Stars are the pearls of the poor [Kamen Rider OOO, Eiji, Ankh]

Kamen Rider OOO. Eiji, Ankh, camping shenanigans set early on in the series. Inspired by the 31_days prompt for October 2nd 2011. 344 words.

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Stars are the pearls of the poor

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"I suspect that most humans don't live like this," Ankh says, poking the campfire with a stick, narrowing his eyes at it suspiciously. The fire is supposed to leap at his touch but the cold night air is dampening it down. Useless. "In fact," he continues, "I know they don't."

He has access, after all. To the memories of his host body, to the little instrument they call a phone and all the data he could ever need right at his fingertips. He knows far more than anyone would ever suspect he could discover within only a few days of being revived. Ankh is smart, Ankh understands the need to adapt to this new world.

There's no immediate reply from Eiji, something that makes Ankh's entire body tense. He dislikes being ignored and Eiji seems to have worked that out so quickly. Someone who seemed like such an easy fool to use; actually much sharper than anyone would assume.

Instead Eiji sighs and stretches out on the grass.

"Ankh," he says, "aren't the stars pretty?"

"What?"

"The stars," Eiji repeats, turning his head to meet Ankh's look. His face is screwed up like Eiji is purposely trying to anger him by talking nonsense. "Who needs jewels - or any of those things - when the stars are right there for free?"

"Fool," Ankh sneers, turning away again. "Even eight hundred years ago humans coveted jewels. That hasn't changed."

"Just because humans have always done something, doesn't mean it's the only option," Eiji replies. He almost sounds hurt.

"Yeah," Ankh agrees. "That much is true. You need to evolve in this world to survive."

"Have you ever met someone whose desire was to touch the stars?" Eiji asks, extending out his hand to the sky. He drags his fingers across it as though brushing the lights scattered amongst the darkness.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ankh retorts. "That's a childish desire. It's so small it wouldn't register to any Greeed."

"I don't think it's small," Eiji says. "I don't think it's a small desire at all."

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/94185.html

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a kiss to build a dream on [Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, Marvelous/Joe]

Written as a response to the 12 Character Meme. The prompt was: "Captain Marvelous tries to kiss Joe Gibken. What happens?", from fairytales. Set pre-series. 747 words.

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a kiss to build a dream on

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Marvelous knows things are much more complicated than either of them have let on. It's been three days since Joe promised to be with him, "to your dream, and beyond", and yet he still hasn't come out of the quarters Marvelous offered him, except to eat and exercise.

Marvelous had no way of knowing beforehand just how silent and solitary Joe was going to turn out to be, but he is sharp enough to realise there is more to it than just that. It's not just Joe's personality, it isn't just Joe recovering from the constant fear of being on the run, almost certain of being caught thanks to the tracking device on the collar and running like hell anyway. Sometimes Marvelous sees Joe sneaking around with red eyes that are not from a lack of sleep.

Marvelous knows what it is to mourn someone you cared about. And not in the way of family, perhaps not even in the way of close friends - AkaRed had been a little of everything to him; father-figure, mentor, friend. Basco had been his friend, partner in crime, some-time lover. Marvelous knows relationships can be complicated, far moreso than can be put into words. Joe's grief could be some of these things, all of them, or none of them at all.

Somehow it's the same.

He leaves Joe to it, not bothering to worry. Anyone who has the balls to stand up to the Zangyack like that right in their own backyard can handle their own problems. Marvelous decides he will wait for Joe to come to him.

That's before Joe wakes him up the next night with a blood-curdling scream, followed by the choked cry of a name; "Sid-sempai!"

The next thing Marvelous knows, he's outside Joe's bedroom door and a clatter sounds as something flies across the room. He even hears Joe's indrawn breath, sharp as he realises that must have woken Marvelous up, and that there is no explanation for it. None that he is prepared to give, anyway. Little does he know Marvelous is already awake, and right there.

Marvelous leans against the wall, arms folded, one leg propped. After what seems like an eternity, in which he suspects Joe is waiting himself - waiting for the sounds that suggest Marvelous is up and about, woken by the noise - he hears the shuffle as Joe gets up out of bed tentatively and heads for the door.

He sticks his head out first, glancing around for signs of life, and because Joe is half-prepared for it, he only flinches slightly to see Marvelous lazing there against the wall.

Joe is still wearing bandages from his various injuries - sword slashes and electric shocks alike. Between that and the obvious tears that have been wiped away from his face, Marvelous can't hold back.

He had known from the first instant that Joe was strong. But that doesn't make him unbreakable.

Marvelous pushes off the wall and stands in front of Joe. He reaches out and places a hand under Joe's chin, tilting it up to look him in the eyes. Joe's face has the exact same look on it from only days ago when Marvelous had placed his hands on the shock collar.

A mixture of disbelief, awe, gratitude... and something else. Joe's eyes seem almost too far away, remembering other times and places. Marvelous narrows his eyes and wonders whose stance he is mimicking. Has someone done this with Joe before? Has someone stood taller than him, hand on his chin, and tilted it up until their lips met?

He only takes a split second to care about it. Then he leans down.

Joe kisses back. Joe kisses back with an eagerness that completely convinces Marvelous someone has done this to him before. His lips are full and his mouth clings, desperately seeking more. All of a sudden Marvelous does not want to be the replacement for this other person. He pulls back.

"I'll help you through it," he says roughly. Joe's kiss has affected him more than he realised. But his offer is real.

Joe snaps back to reality pretty quickly, but to his credit he recovers well enough to merely nod. He goes back into his room and shuts the door carefully behind him. Marvelous lets him go.

When he is ready to accept what Marvelous has to offer - and he will be eventually, Marvelous is almost certain of that - Joe will come to him.

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/92471.html

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What We Had I Cannot Even Say [Prince of Tennis, Sanada/Yukimura]

Sanada/Yukimura angst. I am not even going to try and work out where it fits timelinewise xD 395 words, prompt: 25 September 2005: What we had I cannot even say.

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/91329.html

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(Lack of) Discretion [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai pre-canon]

Rikkai first-year fic. Some Sanada-Yukimura rivalry (and lack there of) exploration. More to follow :D 242 words. Prompt: 24 May 2006 - Discretion, I said, was not the same as lying.

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(Lack of) Discretion

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"If you won't play a match against me you'll never know for certain who is better between us," Sanada says. Yukimura realises that this is really nothing new, and yet it has become a pleasant kind of white noise in the background of his everyday life. The tenacity that Sanada has, the impossible drive to win, it makes him smile where he really should be losing his patience by now.

Perhaps that's the real reason he can't end this after all. The thought that Sanada might end up just like all the others. Worse even, because Yukimura has seen Sanada play. Going against Sanada in a match would provoke his true tennis.

Yukimura knows the team needs Sanada's strength too much to indulge his curiosity. Even if he himself is itching to test his skill against the person he can just see is going to become one of the strongest players the junior circuit has ever known. Yukimura knows what it is to mislead someone for the sake of a greater good. Even when it makes Sanada hate him more and more. Yukimura can handle that - you don't have to be liked by someone in order to like them back.

"I do know who is better between us," he replies, because he has to. A shot to the gut will work best. "Tezuka completely defeated you at the Junior Tournament, and then I defeated him. I think it speaks for itself."

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reasons to stay [Prince of Tennis, Sanada/Yanagi/Yukimura future-fic]

Sanada/Yanagi/Yukimura future-fic, gen, 670 words, prompt: 7 September 2005: Herr doktor. Thank an old episode of House for this. This is just a snippet; might write some more in this universe sometime, hopefully not all angsty!

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More Than Meets The Eye [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai pre-canon]

title: More Than Meets The Eye
character(s)/pairing(s): Yukimura, Yanagi, Sanada, Muraoka (OC).
genre: pre-series, backstory, original character
wordcount: 667
notes/summary: A series exploring the Rikkai third-years freshman year at Rikkai. There are many unspoken secrets - and not-secrets - lurking beneath the surface of the tennis club.
previous: Where Do We Begin, One Point Shy of Winning

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Pre-Monarchy [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai pre-canon]

Rikkai first-year fic, set between the Kanagawa and Kantou tournaments. 310 Words. Prompt from 31_days. 27 August 2006: Where now are kings and where/ are the men who passed this way before you?. Written a little while ago, but only posting now!
Previous: Where Do We Begin, One Point Shy of Winning, More Than Meets The Eye.

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Pre-Monarchy

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"We might take Kantou?" Gesshin asks. "Well, that's good, that's something. Even if we accomplish nothing else that's still important - we've been winning Kantou for so long now it's expected of us. It would be an embarrassment if we didn't."

"An embarrassment?" Yukimura says. "I'll tell you the real embarrassment; that everyone goes around shouting, 'Always win, Rikkaidai', and yet once Kantou is over everyone is content with just that. What about Nationals, has everyone forgotten them? What do people think of, 'Always win, Rikkaidai' then; when the team come back without the championship? An empty threat - that's what they think. All talk and no follow-through."

"Thank you, Yukimura-kun, for explaining to the rest of the team what we were discussing earlier," Muraoka says warningly, and Yukimura realises this is the most he has spoken in company since joining the club, and the most passionately he has done so, too. And it wasn't really being received well until Muraoka stepped in and took the responsibility for it. Now the voices aren't outraged and shamed, but the murmurs of quietly grudging agreement.

"What you have to remember," Muraoka says later on, in private, "is that to everyone else you're still only a freshman. An exceptionally talented freshman who they are happy to have on their team if it means winning, but that doesn't mean they believe you have knowledge worth contributing. You do," he adds as Yukimura opens his mouth to protest, "but your age is against you right now. There's too much prejudice. I apologize for ruining your speech, but it may have led to a riot had I left you berating Rikkai's entire attitude to the game."

"But they will listen to you?" Yukimura asks. So long as the message gets through he can't find it in him too care overly much just now.

"Let's hope so, for all our sakes."

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Your Unknown Colour [Rikkai troika, university setting]

Rikkai troika 'gen' (it's getting kind of ambiguous), University setting. 585 words. 31_days prompt: 25 October 2006. your unknown colour. Follows on from An Electric Michelangelo.

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Your Unknown Colour

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Once inside, they all have their rituals. Yukimura is always deferred to for first choice of seat; Yanagi and Sanada contrive to slow their paces until he is first through the door and he knows they do it. Once Yukimura has his seat - always beside the window - he shrugs off his rucksack and lets it thump beside him on the floor, sighing under the weight it carries and sagging until it is wrinkled up where it sits. This day he hunches up small in his chair and tries to absorb the heat from his drink through his fingertips.

Yanagi always gets his equipment out first; notebooks, folder, spare paper, pens and pencils. Once he has it all where he wants it only then does he remember to take off his jacket and hat and get comfortable. The hat goes into his bag, tucked away carefully so that Yukimura can't pick it up by the braids and whip it around his head, which he does if it is sat on within view and the temptation is strong enough.

The first thing Sanada does is take off his coat. He sits in his seat and waits for the warmth in the room to permeate his skin, his bag propped on the desk until he finds out what he is going to need for the duration of the class. Yukimura sits and daydreams about the art he didn't get enough time to look at, and the artist he wants to meet. The lecture goes over his head.

It wasn't nearly enough time to notice anything, but Yukimura thinks in terms of the basics. Yanagi and Sanada have their heads down, Yanagi making his neat organised notes with the bare minimum of information in short-hand that allows him to understand what has been said without unnecessary extra words. Sanada writes down everything word for word, scribbling at the speed of sound to be sure there's nothing he misses. When Yukimura works he tends to stop and pause now and then to reflect on information, sometimes writing and sometimes not. Sometimes he doodles. Yanagi always smiles almost condescendingly when he does that, and Sanada gets annoyed, but images help Yukimura remember better. Words aren't everything.

He can't help but realise it now, that Yanagi and Sanada are both so serious in their own ways, and both so orderly. Yanagi because it keeps him organised, and Sanada because it is right and proper. He isn't sure why they both gravitated towards him when he is so different. What he needs is someone to befriend who is more fluid and relaxed, like him. Someone with creative flair and an ease about them.

He doesn't even know the street artist, but he wants to. It makes no sense but Yukimura doesn't care. He is making assumptions based on a nagging feeling that he is missing out somehow. He loves Yanagi and Sanada both, but even between them there are still things they don't provide.

He realises suddenly what a dangerous path his thoughts are taking, and sits up a little. He devotes the rest of class to writing down all the things he should do afterwards that aren't, 'go to the park to find the street artist'.

The list is unconvincing, full of meaningless things that he doesn't need to do, and doesn't care about. Even 'spend time with Sanada and Yanagi' isn't enough to tempt him; they spend plenty of time together already, and even without him they still have one another.

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An Electric Michelangelo [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai troika gen, university-set]

Rikkai troika gen, University setting. Inspired by this image. 904 words. 31_days prompt: 9 November 2005: An electric Michelangelo.

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An Electric Michelangelo

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It's a chilly winter morning and there's no time to waste - Yukimura slips out of the coffee shop with his Gingerbread Latte and Sanada and Yanagi are stood patiently waiting for him regardless of the wind whipping around them. Somehow Yukimura had managed to find himself further back in the queue than the two of them, and by the time Yanagi had noticed and offered to let him back in it had been too late and he and Sanada were already ordering. Yukimura's cut-off gloves leave his fingertips bare, and he presses them firmly to the warmth radiating out from his cup.

"We're going to be late," Sanada mutters, something they all know which didn't need to be said. It's tempting to point out that he could have gone ahead without them, but neither Yanagi nor Yukimura give in to the temptation. You don't question Sanada's loyalty, and you certainly don't make fun of it. They set off together, heads ducked down against the wind.

Sanada ignores his drink as he strides along, his free hand clutching his bag to his side to keep it from bouncing against his hip at the furious pace of his steps. The tassels of Yanagi's knitted hat stream behind him, and the pom-pom on top bounces with every step he takes, and Yukimura can't help smiling behind him. When Yanagi had first worn the hat - knitted by some elderly aunt or grandmother - Yukimura had spent the entire day tugging on the tassels at random moments just for the fun of it. Yanagi sips on his seasonal beverage of choice, a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha as he walks, almost stumbling to lean down and sip at it each time, he's in such a hurry.

Yukimura's rucksack on his back leaves his hands both free to continue gripping his cup. His scarf flaps in the wind, because he hasn't had the foresight to tuck his into his jacket like Sanada and Yanagi have. He depends on layers instead, his long coat that stops at mid-thigh undone over a lighter jacket, a jumper and a shirt.

They reach the end of the pedestrianised walkway and stop at the traffic lights. Yukimura pokes at one of the ear-flaps to Sanada's trapper hat.

"What have you got today?" He asks hopefully. Sanada always flits between two choices, Green Tea Latte which Yukimura hates, and Chai Tea Latte which he adores.

Sanada just offers out the cup in response, eyes going back to watching the traffic light as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Yukimura takes a sip and pulls a face; it's green tea. When he looks up Sanada's mouth is set in a grim smile.

"You could've said," Yukimura says, wiping his mouth and handing back the cup.

"You wouldn't have believed me anyway," Sanada replies. "Drink your own drink."

Yukimura sticks his tongue out at Sanada and does as he suggests, swirling his own latte in his mouth to rid himself of the bitter tang. The traffic light changes and they cross the road and cut through the park to get to their university campus.

Most of the trees are bare, except for the evergreens and the particularly stubborn ones that still cling to orange, red and brown leaves in places. The benches are frosted over. Sometimes Yukimura, Yanagi and Sanada sit on them and share - lunch if no other students have beaten them to it, in which case they stretch out on the grass - but not in this weather.

The ground isn't damp, but it gives that impression anyway, the leaves that are on it have a wet sheen to them and they stick, and yet are slippery if you step on them. Not far from the exit at the other end of the park a small crowd has formed, which is unusual considering the season.

Sanada charges through, utterly uncaring of what is going on. Yanagi spares a brief glance as he walks through for the sake of knowing. If it were an emergency of some sort he might stop, out of compassion. But it's simply a street artist at work, and that's nothing he hasn't seen before. They're going to be late.

Yukimura is the one who stops. Sanada and Yanagi are ahead of him and still moving, the gap between them increasing. The man is wearing too little to be outside for a long period of time like this, ripped jeans and a jumper over a t-shirt, but he doesn't seem bothered. His hand moves furiously over the ground, although he has a fair few canvases propped up for sale, too. It seems ridiculous to draw on the floor for nothing when the weather could turn at any moment and wash it away.

And yet he uses colours completely out of season; bright and bold primary colours accented by alternating warm and cold tones. It brings the park alive again, Yukimura thinks.

"Seiichi," Yanagi says, appearing a few steps away from him. "We're going to be late."

"I'm coming," he replies, sparing one last glance for the street artist who can't be any older than he is. The brunette catches him and their eyes meet. He smiles, and Yukimura makes the decision before he moves his feet and carries himself away.

He just has to hope the man will still be there by the time his first free period comes along.

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Game, Set, Match [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai troika gen]

Yanagi and Sanada play chess, Yukimura is there too. Inspired by this image. 300 words. 31_days prompt: 26 September 2006. Game and set to you, Quicksilver

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Game, Set, Match.

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Sanada's thumb and forefinger close around the piece. He takes a breath as he surveys the board, debating the move and whether or not there is a better one to play. A cursory glance across the table at Yanagi reveals him expressionless, except that when he catches Sanada looking his mouth quirks a little. Sanada frowns, lets go of the piece before he moves it, and looks for another move.

Yukimura groans in frustration. This is the third time this has happened in five minutes.

"I thought you were reading," Yanagi observes without looking.

"I can't concentrate," Yukimura retorts. "Sanada makes every breath sound like a huge effort. Stop playing mind games with him and get on with your game."

Sanada shoots a glare Yukimura's way, which he ignores. It's true enough - Sanada is treating the game like slow torture.

"I'm not doing anything," Yanagi says. "When Genichirou looks at me I smile. It would be rude to do otherwise."

"Oh shut up," Yukimura snorts. Yanagi knows neither of them underestimate him and yet he can't help but enjoy making these empty excuses up. Yukimura sits up on the couch and looks over. Sanada looks like a cat caught in the rain - miserable and yet full of indignation all at once. "You could-"

"I don't need your help," Sanada says roughly. Yukimura closes his mouth again and tries not to smile. He had kind of expected that response.

Sanada plays his next move quite quickly after that, and Yanagi always makes his countering move within mere seconds. Three turns later and Sanada attacks with his queen.

"Checkmate," he says, without the slightest trace of conceit. Yanagi's mouth falls open.

"What a feint," Yukimura laughs, clapping his hands in approval. It doesn't do to underestimate Sanada Genichirou, either, it seems.

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The Chocolate Revolution [Prince of Tennis, Yukimura & Marui gen]

Yukimura, Marui and brownies. Inspired by this image. 200 words. 31_days prompt: 21 May 2007: the chocolate revolution begins

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The Chocolate Revolution

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"Buchou," Marui grins as he opens the door. Yukimura takes off his coat as he walks in, pushes up his sleeves, and slips on the apron Marui offers, tying it behind his back deftly.

Half an hour later both of them have flour and chocolate up to the elbows, and neither one will admit to making fingerprints in the brownie mixture even though they're both guilty of taste-testing it in the baking tray.

"You can handle the washing up," Yukimura says graciously, picking up a magazine and making himself comfortable on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Me?" Marui snorts. "You're nearly a whole year younger than me, kouhai, and I'm the one whose house we're in. Show some respect to your elder."

Yukimura looks over with raised eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. He closes the magazine and steps up to the sink. Marui grabs a dishcloth before anything is said and joins him there to wipe up.

"You know, if this were any other place and any other time-" Yukimura begins. His voice is soft and low, but his words carry a heavy warning.

"I know," Marui agrees solemnly. "Why do you think I enjoy baking with you so much?"

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A Morning Routine [Prince of Tennis, Sanada/Yukimura]

SanaYuki fluffy-smut or smutty-fluffy. Nothing graphic. Prompt from 31_days: 1 November 2006. the heart asks pleasure first. 934 Words.

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A Morning Routine

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"It's too early to get up, come back to bed," Yukimura says, turning his face into the pillow away from the sunlight and muffling his words.

"It's not that early," Sanada replies gently, but slides back beneath the sheets. Yukimura has never been a morning person, which might be the reason for the harshness of before-school practices back in the day. Yukimura curls his arms around his pillow and attempts to bury himself deeper, but Sanada knows he is awake now, just unwilling to admit to it. He rests his weight on one elbow and watches for a moment as Yukimura's back moves with each breath. If he had truly been lulled back to sleep it would have gone so shallow so as not to be noticed.

Sanada begins by touching the muscles in Yukimura's shoulder, and his fingers drift lightly down the spine. Yukimura's skin prickles but he refuses to move. Sanada feels along his side, back up to the shoulder. Yukimura is warm from their shared body heat, and his skin is smooth and beautiful. Sanada knows he always falls into this trap, but he can't help touching.

He strokes Yukimura's side until Yukimura uncurls slightly, tilting his head back with eyes still shut. Sanada reaches up, cupping Yukimura's chin and throat in his hand and stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"Oh, stop it," Yukimura says, but his mouth carries a soft and lazy smile. Sanada takes this as invitation to slide closer, until his body is pressed against the back of Yukimura's from entwined feet to his breath on Yukimura's neck.

Yukimura can no doubt feel Sanada hard beneath his boxers, pressed against his backside. He rolls over onto his back, and with both hands reaches up to Sanada's face, guiding him down for a kiss without hesitation. All of a sudden Sanada has to use his free hand to keep himself propped up away from the bed, and his body follows Yukimura's direction, leaning half over him.

"What do you want?" Yukimura asks as their lips partly slowly and their eyes meet. He runs his hands down Sanada's chest, palms flat and fingers spread wide. When he brushes over Sanada's nipples Sanada's hips buck in response, and he fits a leg between Yukimura's swiftly and moves jerkily against Yukimura's thigh. He leans down to kiss Yukimura again, and it's full of hunger, hot breath and urgent messiness that breaks them apart and brings them back together again often.

Yukimura's hands move steadily downwards, over Sanada's stomach and the toned muscles that ripple beneath his fingers. He is slow but purposeful in his movements, and eventually one hand lingers on Sanada's hip, stroking the sensitive skin as the other slips beneath his waistband and grips with confidence.

Sanada, on the other hand, once he has recovered himself enough to stop thrusting against Yukimura, knows what is coming, and as Yukimura's hand closes around his cock he reaches down with no preamble to do the same in return. Yukimura gasps into a kiss and Sanada smiles against his mouth.

Yukimura doesn't let it put him off for more than a moment, drawing his hand down along Sanada's length and palming the head of his cock teasingly. Sanada reaches down to Yukimura's balls and sends a shudder running through him.

Yukimura jerks Sanada off with long, slow, deliberate pulls that seem to satisfy individually but refuse to work him up enough to get him off. Sanada finds himself half-grinding against Yukimura's thigh again before he can think about it, trying desperately to build up some friction. His hands fumble, touching Yukimura clumsily, and he decides to change tactics.

At least, that's the plan. Sanada leans down to press his mouth to Yukimura's collarbone and feels the hand on him tighten. A strangled sound escapes his throat and his shoulders heave. He just knows Yukimura is smiling above him, because he gets so much enjoyment out of not just throwing Sanada for a loop, but for giving him pleasure just when he thinks he is on the edge of frustration. Yukimura jerks him off until Sanada is unable to do anything but pant in desperation. It takes all of his concentration to keep his hands steady and supporting his weight as Yukimura's free hand feels across his stomach, muscles quivering at his touch. When he comes Yukimura pulls his hand away in a leisurely manner, slowly bringing his hand to his mouth and licking it. Sanada's mind and body are on different pages, but somehow he manages to pounce in response, attacking Yukimura's skin with his mouth as he reaches down again.

He licks his way to Yukimura's nipple, hand below searching for familiar spots that make Yukimura squirm and twist. It almost feels like a need to get away, except for the hand gripping Sanada's shoulder tightly that silently asks him not to stop. Sanada loves the way Yukimura can go from cool and collected and in control of a situation to a beautiful trembling mess in seconds, loves that he is the one who can do it to him.

"Sa-!" Yukimura manages to gasp out before he comes. Sanada moves to press himself against Yukimura's side once again, sliding a leg between Yukimura's and an arm across his chest. Yukimura's breathing begins to slow back down, and once it does a hand finds its way into Sanada's hair and fingers play idly with the strands at the base of his neck.

"Let's not get up yet," Sanada says, resting his head in the crook of Yukimura's neck. "It's too early."

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Intervention [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai gen]

Rikkai gen fic, inspired by this image and travelling on a lot of trains recently. 1626 words. Title from a 31_days prompt: 29 October 2008. intervention.

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A Guise of Gentle Words [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai pre-canon]

Noey, I blame you for this! I hope it works for you ;) Rikkai first-year fic, set later than what I've written so far. The troika plan to hang out. 400 Words.

Prompt: 11 September 2005: A guise of gentle words

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They are sitting together on the bench; Sanada with back straight and arms crossed, Yukimura draped lazily and taking up almost fully half of the seat, waiting for Yanagi to appear.

"Not like him to be late, mm?" Yukimura comments idly. He swings his arm alongside the bench and watches as Sanada glances around, and seeing nothing his expression tightens ever so slightly. He is always the first to worry if anything unusual occurs. It makes Yukimura smile.

Yukimura isn't concerned; one of Yanagi's favourite sayings is that having all the data means the only thing left to learn are the ways the data will then be overcome. Every rule requires an exception, and all data contains anomalies.

As Sanada takes a deep breath and lets it out noisily, Yukimura leans back against the arm of the bench and looks up at the clouds passing overhead. Very few; the weather is clear and bright, and not too warm. Perfect for a tennis match.

In his pocket his phone begins to ring, and Yukimura pulls it out, expecting perhaps Yanagi is running so late now he needs to let them know. Yanagi's name isn't the one flashing on the screen.

"Muraoka-senpai?"

"Yukimura-kun, I'm sure I've told you before you can call me Tsubasa."

"No - I can't," Yukimura laughs, and Sanada glances up because the soft and intimate tone of voice unsettles him, and sees Yukimura's cheeks are spotted a faint pink.

"Are you busy right now?"

"I've got plans, but I'm not sure what's going on with them right now," Yukimura says, turning his back on Sanada completely and waving a hand in the air to punctuate the fact. Sanada grits his teeth. True enough that Yanagi is late and silent as of yet on the reason why, but Sanada is still there. Sometimes it seems like Yukimura can only handle it when they are a group, a unit. One-on-one unsettles him after too long, except when it's Muraoka-senpai, and tennis.

"How about you just let me know if you become available?"

"Okay, I'll do that," Yukimura replies, and hangs up the phone. When he turns back around he sees Sanada with his eyes shut, his breathing deep and even. Meditating.

"Sanada?" Yukimura says. There's a long pause before Sanada opens his eyes again.

"Nothing," he replies, and though Yanagi isn't there yet Sanada thanks him silently for his constant presence.

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Entry tags:

One Point Shy of Winning [Prince of Tennis, Rikkai pre-canon]

title: One Point Shy of Winning
character(s)/pairing(s): Yukimura, Muraoka (OC), Sanada, Yanagi, Rikkai Regulars (OCs).
genre: pre-series, backstory, original character
wordcount: 1153
notes/summary: A series exploring the Rikkai third-years freshman year at Rikkai. Putting together a new team isn't going to be so simple.
previous: Where Do We Begin.

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/92346.html

Entry tags:

Hope not built on blindness [Prince of Tennis, jail!fic]

jail!fic, Sanada wakes up to the reality of things. Set after everything written so far. 556 words. Prompt: 20 November 2005: Hope not built on blindness.

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Crossposts: http://fsop.livejournal.com/91793.html

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Your Cover's Blown [Prince of Tennis, jail!fic universe]

jail!fic, Sanada gets a visitor. 1305 words. Prompt: 16 January 2006. Your cover's blown. Unfinished.

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A Long Road [Coffee Prince, Han Kyul/Eun Chan]

title: a long road
fandom: Coffee Prince
pairing: Choi Han Kyul/Go Eun Chan.
rating: PG. Utter fluff. Spoilers for the end of the series.
484 Words.

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Ambiguity [Mei-chan no Shitsuji: Mei, Izumi, Kiba]

So this is definitely not what I thought I'd end up writing first. But I have a lot of issues to work through with this drama (mostly of the "WHAT ARE YOUR MOTIVATIONS HERE? I NO UNDERSTANDING!" kind), and it is definitely going to be done through writing. Which is cool with me!

Mei, Izumi, Kiba. Tea-time. Spoilers for the second half of the drama. 574 Words. Prompt: 31_days, 6 January 2008

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