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Drabble Drop ... three, I think?
This is somewhat cheating as almost all of these were from 70%-90% finished already, and are from 6 months to over a year old. I was simply tired of having them unfinished on my HD, STARING with their little fic eyes o_o
Also,
drabbles for Zau's birthday :D IshiHime, IshiNemu and UraYori, more to come sooner or later
life is but a stage | Rikkai D1 | Tenipuri | gen
Niou is a natural actor as if the world waited with baited breath for his exploits. As if he was made to preform, the world is just a length of wooden hallways with curtains pulls shut, waiting for his arrival.
Yagyuu never took an interest in acting other than academical reasons. He could quote famous plays if need be, even Shakespeare, but by choice, he would never take the stage.
But he takes on Niou’s persona, fits it around himself like a second skin. The devious, the insolence, it all becomes his own with each practice.
“Why Hiroshi, I had no idea you had such talent.” Niou whispers, much too close for comfort, his breath startlingly hot against Yagyuu’s skin.
“It’s no different than wearing a mask” he said, smoothing the ripples of his almost plastic perfection, pressing out the wrinkles of his gentlemanly facade.
One Man's Trash.. | Eiji & Oishi | Tenipuri | gen
Eiji’s jeans are too big, they pool around his feet , get ripped and dirty, his shirt is two sizes too big, but he refuses to give them up even after holes spring up on sides and rips appear in almost symmetrical patterns with the slowly fading pastel.
“But It was a giiiift from Oishi” he whines with a face so pitiful that his mother can’t quite make him give up the clothing.
Oishi tsks, then shows Eiji to roll his jeans just so, just enough to not get dirty,
suggests a change a shirt, but when Eiji pleads he relinquishes.
“I can give you another shirt if you liked it that much.” Oishi says, smiling all the time.
And so Eiji finally retired his beloved shirt - yet he still refuses to throw it away.
Cotton Sheets. | Tezuka/Fuji | Tenpuri| supposed to be part of a larger arc called "simple pleasures" but the others are likely to never be finished.
Tezuka always sets the clock before sleeping, it is a habit so worn into his hands that it is done without thinking, a routine melded into daily life like so many other things, it is done without a thought that his life is different now.
It is a useless thing, for he always wakes up precisely fifteen minutes before it would be set to ring, and carefully defuses it like a timebomb waiting to go off.
He slinks out of bed, hands blindly searching for his glasses, oh, there they are. The thin frames shudder slightly as he places them over the bridge of his angular nose. The world blurs for a moment, the solidifies, focuses.
Fuji is not a morning person. It is better for the world and his own sanity if Fuji is allowed a few extra hours.
Tezuka slumps back and catches a few extra hours of rest.
---
Fuji isn’t a morning person. Or so he likes Tezuka to think.
He always wakes up exactly fifteen minutes before Tezuka and resets the clock, just for a suppressed laugh into the pillow, and to have the pleasure of watching Tezuka wake up fifteen minutes later and blindly reach for the clock. Just to watch admiringly as he ‘resets’ the clock.
Fuji thinks that Tezuka is chivalrous for doing such a thing, but it’s probably just a mixture of self-preservation and well honed intuition.
As Tezuka shifts in bed, supposedly for Fuji’s comfort, Fuji smiles into his pillow while feigning sleep.
Fuji doesn’t actually mind mornings, but doesn’t like them half as much as he likes convincing Tezuka that he doesn’t.
---
Tezuka isn’t a morning person.
Tezuka knows Fuji doesn’t mind mornings, he knows Fuji is merely playing another game, but he also knows that this one is harmless compared to what Fuji could do.
He likes the scent of cotton sheets and the sight of Fuji’s pale skin laid out on the only slightly paler fitted sheets.
He likes the sound of Fuji’s suppressed laugh and the hint of a salacious grin pressed into folds of a curled pillow.
And yes, he even likes the few extra hours of sleep, the extra warm of Fuji curled up beside him.
Also,
drabbles for Zau's birthday :D IshiHime, IshiNemu and UraYori, more to come sooner or later
life is but a stage | Rikkai D1 | Tenipuri | gen
Niou is a natural actor as if the world waited with baited breath for his exploits. As if he was made to preform, the world is just a length of wooden hallways with curtains pulls shut, waiting for his arrival.
Yagyuu never took an interest in acting other than academical reasons. He could quote famous plays if need be, even Shakespeare, but by choice, he would never take the stage.
But he takes on Niou’s persona, fits it around himself like a second skin. The devious, the insolence, it all becomes his own with each practice.
“Why Hiroshi, I had no idea you had such talent.” Niou whispers, much too close for comfort, his breath startlingly hot against Yagyuu’s skin.
“It’s no different than wearing a mask” he said, smoothing the ripples of his almost plastic perfection, pressing out the wrinkles of his gentlemanly facade.
One Man's Trash.. | Eiji & Oishi | Tenipuri | gen
Eiji’s jeans are too big, they pool around his feet , get ripped and dirty, his shirt is two sizes too big, but he refuses to give them up even after holes spring up on sides and rips appear in almost symmetrical patterns with the slowly fading pastel.
“But It was a giiiift from Oishi” he whines with a face so pitiful that his mother can’t quite make him give up the clothing.
Oishi tsks, then shows Eiji to roll his jeans just so, just enough to not get dirty,
suggests a change a shirt, but when Eiji pleads he relinquishes.
“I can give you another shirt if you liked it that much.” Oishi says, smiling all the time.
And so Eiji finally retired his beloved shirt - yet he still refuses to throw it away.
Cotton Sheets. | Tezuka/Fuji | Tenpuri| supposed to be part of a larger arc called "simple pleasures" but the others are likely to never be finished.
Tezuka always sets the clock before sleeping, it is a habit so worn into his hands that it is done without thinking, a routine melded into daily life like so many other things, it is done without a thought that his life is different now.
It is a useless thing, for he always wakes up precisely fifteen minutes before it would be set to ring, and carefully defuses it like a timebomb waiting to go off.
He slinks out of bed, hands blindly searching for his glasses, oh, there they are. The thin frames shudder slightly as he places them over the bridge of his angular nose. The world blurs for a moment, the solidifies, focuses.
Fuji is not a morning person. It is better for the world and his own sanity if Fuji is allowed a few extra hours.
Tezuka slumps back and catches a few extra hours of rest.
---
Fuji isn’t a morning person. Or so he likes Tezuka to think.
He always wakes up exactly fifteen minutes before Tezuka and resets the clock, just for a suppressed laugh into the pillow, and to have the pleasure of watching Tezuka wake up fifteen minutes later and blindly reach for the clock. Just to watch admiringly as he ‘resets’ the clock.
Fuji thinks that Tezuka is chivalrous for doing such a thing, but it’s probably just a mixture of self-preservation and well honed intuition.
As Tezuka shifts in bed, supposedly for Fuji’s comfort, Fuji smiles into his pillow while feigning sleep.
Fuji doesn’t actually mind mornings, but doesn’t like them half as much as he likes convincing Tezuka that he doesn’t.
---
Tezuka isn’t a morning person.
Tezuka knows Fuji doesn’t mind mornings, he knows Fuji is merely playing another game, but he also knows that this one is harmless compared to what Fuji could do.
He likes the scent of cotton sheets and the sight of Fuji’s pale skin laid out on the only slightly paler fitted sheets.
He likes the sound of Fuji’s suppressed laugh and the hint of a salacious grin pressed into folds of a curled pillow.
And yes, he even likes the few extra hours of sleep, the extra warm of Fuji curled up beside him.