Writer/Editor au, for SanaYuki? (if you still write tenipuri)
Ooooh yes, I still do! Anything for my original OTP!!! :)
And yes, this is inspired by Sekaiichi Hatsukoi and Junjou Romantica. I love those series to death.
-/-
The front door slammed violently open, disrupting the quiet and serenity of the small, cozy apartment.
"YUKIMURA!"
A groan underneath messy white sheets. “Too loud…” Blue hair peeked out of the covers, cerulean irises squinting at the small space he created so he could peek at the door. Waiting… waiting…
"Where’s your manuscript?! I told you that the deadline was today! Get up!" Sanada Genichirou eventually appeared, in his usual coat-and-tie, hand slamming on the open bedroom door as he scowled at the body hiding on the bed. "I need it now!"
"It’s seven in the morning, you’ll wake up the neighbors." Yawning, Yukimura Seiichi, multi award-winning historical fiction author and Sanada’s childhood friend, sat up slowly, bare-chested and yawning. He rubbed at his eyes and stared at his fuming editor. "Sorry, it’s just… I don’t know what to write for the next scene…"
A vein twitched in Sanada’s forehead.
-/-
A steaming mug of milky coffee was placed on top of the coffee table, Sanada placing it down in front of the author writing away on his laptop.
"Thanks. Sorry." Yukimura murmured, not taking his eyes off his screen as his fingers clicked-clacked away, line after line appearing on the document. His intent blue eyes were hidden behind framed spectacles, light reflecting off the clear lenses.
Sanada sighed. “At least tell me earlier. Thankfully I managed to ask the printers to give us until tomorrow morning.”
"You always pull through for me, Sanada." Without looking at him Yukimura’s lips stretched into a smile and Sanada felt the red creeping in his cheeks. "Thanks."
"A-Anyway, I need that chapter done for today, you hear me? Good grief…" Sanada took a swig of his own pure black espresso, trying to will away the heat on his face.
He had known Yukimura for as long as he could remember, when they were four and Sanada thought that he was a girl at first. Even as young as they were Yukimura had a way with words, and while Sanada also had the same talent, he could never compare to how Yukimura weaved his stories, a melodious harmony of flute and koto strings over a warbling river. Sanada would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous, but something about the way Yukimura wrote played and tugged at someone’s heartstrings, and it wasn’t something that should be kept hidden.
So he supported his best friend in the only way he knew how.
He became his editor.
"Sanada, for this one scene, I have a question." The sound of Yukimura’s voice brought Sanada back to the present and he made an affirming sound.
"So… here, the main’s character’s going to confess his love—"
"What?!" Sanada choked on his drink, thankful that he hadn’t drank a mouthful or he would’ve spat it out. "When did that happen?! This isn’t a romance novel!"
The look Yukimura gave him could peel paint. “Sanada. You’re my editor. You’re supposed to realize the foreshadowing in the first chapters. Haven’t you noticed that he’s slowly getting closer to his subordinate? That they’re clearly more than childhood friends?”
"But that’s—!" True, Sanada did feel a little something between the main character and his best friend, but Sanada thought it was just him overreading it. "Why now?"
"Maybe it’s cliche, but the protagonist’s about to go to his final battle. He’s not the man to think of the what ifs and the uncertainties, and he knew he wouldn’t have made it that far if not for the support of his best friend. So before he goes to certain death, he wants to convey his feelings." Yukimura leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.
"But isn’t your main character a man of few words? How would he say it? It’s too out of character. And how would the best friend respond?" Sanada frowned.
Yukimura hummed. “Something like this, then?” He pulled his head off the couch and looked straight at Sanada, face completely serious.
"Tsurugi, I love you.”
I love you.
At once, Sanada’s face entirely lit up in a blush. “W-What are you saying?! It’s not even suki, it’s ai…!*” Heart, calm down, Sanada told himself multiple times, because this was crazy, Yukimura was just acting out his character, that’s all.
Yukimura threaded his fingers together and cocked his head thoughtfully. “Why not? They’ve been together for such a long time, always, through thick and thin. Even if Tsurugi knew he was hurting his friend because of his swordsmanship he was selfish and asked him to stay. And his best friend did.” Yukimura smiled at him. “No wonder he would fall in love, And Tsurugi’s the type of person to fall hard for the person he chose. So? How do you think they should answer?”
How…?! How would Sanada answer that? “O-Of course… it should be…” Sanada looked away, mumbling. “… ve you…”
Yukimura blinked. “Hm?”
"I said…!" Sanada exhaled a sharp breath, and finally looked Yukimura in the eye. "They should answer, 'I love you too'.”
Silence.
"I see…" Yukimura finally said, voice soft, as a shy smile on his lips as he turned back to his laptop. "…Thank you."
"Just finish it. I’ll look it over for you." Still red in the face, Sanada downed his coffee and went back to the kitchen, feeling that something much bigger just happened moments ago.
-/-
*In Japanese, they confess by using daisuki, which in English means more literally as ‘I like you’ and is actually more common. Yukimura said aishiteru, which is a more serious, romantic confession, and a very serious one. No wonder Sanada freaked out. xD
Another Yakuza!AU, because this is seriously one of my favorite AUs to write about. It was partially because of knister that I managed to write this, because I told her about a headcanon I had about this AU. Because one of the things I love about Yakuza AUs are the tattoos they have.
For reference, this is Yukimura's phoenix tattoo. As reference, most Yakuza tattoos are done by hand and not an electrical needle. So yes, it hurts a hell of a lot.
Also, Mizuki as the tattoo artist. Because it fits, why the hell not?
-/-
Sanada inhaled sharply through his nose as he laid perfectly still on his stomach on the flattened, black chair in the room. His face was expressionless, but it didn't stop the feeling of snakes writhing in the pit of his stomach. He was decided the moment he was initiated, but actually going through the experience was another matter entirely. He was naked from waist up, and the room felt colder than usual.
"You didn't have to accompany me, Okashira." He turned his head towards the future Rikkaidai-gumi kumichou, who had, on a sudden whim, decided to tag along for the appointment.
"You're not the oyabun yet," Sanada muttered under his breath, because he really didn't want to die early. But he immediately quietened as the tattoo artist came in, a flamboyant, sly figure of a man, whose dark curls instantly reminded Sanada of their youngest recruit, who was stuck shining their shoes for that day.
"Ah, Yukimura-san," the man cooed, and Sanada felt a snarl rising from his throat, suddenly having the desire to protect his young boss, "it's been a while."
"Mizuki-san." At once, Yukimura's expression melted into that cool, smiling, professional facade that he only showed when dealing with other Families. "Yes, it's been a while."
"How is my masterpiece? Surely you haven't done anything to it yet!" Mizuki's face was the picture of horror, sliding into Yukimura's space like a well-oiled snake, and Sanada almost pushed himself off the chair, snarl intensifying.
"Not at all." Yukimura answered with a polite smile, gesturing to Sanada with a glint in his eyes that had Sanada backing down quickly. Sanada honestly feared for Mizuki-san's life at that moment, no matter what kind of person he was. "I believe my friend has an appointment with you today?"
"Ah, yes..." Mizuki turned to him, gaze sweeping up and down his body in a way that made Sanada extremely unsettled, instantly having the urge to cross his arms over his chest, "It's also been a while that a... friend of yours was here, Yukimura-san."
"Indeed." Yukimura's expression remained pleasant. "But you and I know that I only go to the best." As Mizuki preened, Yukimura moved closer, sitting in the chair beside Sanada. "Are you sure? It will be painful."
"I'm sure." It will take several sessions, would be extremely expensive and painful, but Sanada would put up with it for the sake of a good tattoo.
"Well," Mizuki said as he snapped his gloves, "as the design is... extensive, Sanada-san, this will take quite a while. And the method you've chosen... are you sure? There's still a chance for you to choose the electric needle."
"You've done Oka--Yukimura's tattoos by hand. I want the same." Sanada had only seen it once and not very well at that, but it really was a work on art on Yukimura's skin. The splashes of color and the lineart was second to none. It was Yukimura who chose his tattoo as per his request, and as a part of the Rikkaidai-gumi, Sanada couldn't refuse him.
"If you're sure." Mizuki shrugged. He prepped his equipment, sanitized Sanada's back, placed the stencil, and began.
It wasn't so bad at first. But as the jabs to his skin became numerous and intensified, Sanada has a hard time concentrating to keep his mind away from the pain, the occasional blink as the pain ruptured almost unbearably.
Silently, Yukimura offered his hand, the phoenix tattoo on his back covered, as always. Sanada didn't know what design Yukimura chose but he trusted him, wondered how Yukimura could stand this pain and he was even younger than Sanada was when he got his own tattoo at his coming of age ceremony. He imagined a teenage Yukimura, gritting his teeth to the pain, alone and lonely as a part of the ceremony, not showing himself to the public until his tattoo was completed, inking and lineart and all.
"Didn't... think... it would be... so bad." Sanada grunted after what seemed to be like hours, and they were just getting started.
Suddenly Sanada was glad that Yukimura was with him that day. He took the offer of silent support, squeezing when it became too much, but not too hard. Yukimura's lips quirked in a smile, his other hand raising up to pet Sanada's head, fingers combing through the black locks, like he used to when they were children, Sanada's head on Yukimura's lap on summer afternoons.
"And it would be another 4-5 sessions after this one. I don't do this for anyone, so be thankful." Yukimura said lowly, so as not to interrupt Mizuki's work. If Sanada's grip was tight, Yukimura never commented on it.
"Thank you then, Okashira." Sanada tried calling him Oyabun first, as was proper, but Yukimura gave him such a dark look afterwards he never did it again. 'Okashira' was the only title acceptable, even if Yukimura disliked it immensely.
"If you want to thank me, call me Seiichi."
Sanada remained silent, but gave Yukimura's fingers a gentler squeeze, conveying what he couldn't say in words.
This is the second place winner for my follower giveaway, for the lovely knister who loves Alpha Pair as much as I do.
This is a Gangster!AU, as per her request, but I have a feeling I made it closer to Yazuka instead of a gang, but Yazukas are technically gangs, so... /clawsatwhatshecouldget
Anyway, this is about 700++ words, I hope I meet your expectations, and enjoy!
-/-
Sometimes, Sanada dreamed.
He knew he did, like everyone else. But his dreams were like liquid smoke, visible to the naked eye and dispersing once his fingertips touched them. Perhaps it was a good thing that his dreams were never that vivid, considering the life he led. His dreams always left impressions of blood and violence, terrifying and chilling to the bone when he woke up from them, a stifled scream on his lips, jaw locked ferociously as his body was drawn tight, ready to fight whatever he faced in his sleep. Once or twice, he woke up with tears in his eyes, not knowing the reason for them.
It was something he never told anyone, and no one suspected.
Those kinds of dreams always came after a particular battle or skirmish, brutal enough for even him to sustain various injuries. They would eventually fade in time, but Sanada would at times wake up in the middle of the night for a straight week, unable to scream, unable to move, just lying there with a racing heart and cold sweat dripping down his face.
He inhaled sharply as he opened his eyes; seeing the blank ceiling above him, right shoulder screaming in pain. With a pained hiss he sat up gingerly, opening the lamp by his futon to examine his wounds properly. It opened in the night, bleeding profusely, the bandages a dark red and spreading. The bandages spread to his chest, where thankfully it didn’t open up, but moving was still a terribly painful experience. His throat ached as he tugged at the knots with his left hand, teeth gritting against the pain.
He couldn’t remember moving in the night.
Just as he managed to get one knot undone the papers doors slid open, and there Yukimura was, in his sleeping yukata, eyes bright and alert as they stared at each other.
“Okashira.” Immediately Sanada straightened out, despite the sudden flash of tear-inducing pain. He barely just managed to keep his stoic expression, the paleness of his skin the only indication of his hidden pain.
“Let me see.” Yukimura Seiichi said briskly, closing the doors behind him and kneeling behind him, swiftly undoing the ties at the back.
“Okashira, you don’t have to–” Sanada tried to intervene.
“Be quiet.” The steel in the Rikkai boss’s voice immediately made Sanada pipe down, letting the man do as he wished. “Lean forward a bit.”
They both kept silent as the bandages slowly unraveled, showing the healing scar, one large slash cutting through the tattoo of the dragon that encompassed the whole of his back. The shoulder wound was a newer injury, a result of Sanada’s recklessness and complete devotion.
If he didn’t take that bullet, the man behind him wouldn’t be breathing right now.
Sanada kept his breaths even, trying not to immerse himself with the pain each tug at the cloth made. He didn’t regret what he had to do, it was his duty, but he had caused Yukimura pain. The Rikkai considered themselves family, and losing one of them would hurt Yukimura terribly.
At least, that’s what Sanada believed.
“… Okashira?” Sanada noticed that Yukimura’s fingers had stopped, fingertips just hovering above the raised skin of his new scar.
Slowly, eventually, Sanada felt the press of damp skin against his own tender flesh, and he gave a start, stilling when soft, calloused hands pressed itself against his lower back. The brush of hair between his shoulder blades tickled, and Sanada’s heart lurched in his chest.
“… I thought you were dead.”
A whisper, making the still air between them tremble, reverberating around them. Yukimura’s hands trembled, and Sanada’s chest ached, wishing he could turn around, see the expression on Yukimura’s face.
Oh.
“… I don’t regret it.” The bandages pooled at his hips. Sanada could feel the cotton on his back, the breaths that synchronized with his own. “But I’m sorry.”
“You’re not allowed to do that again.” Yukimura said lowly. Nails scratched against his skin, breaths heaving as something wet slid down cooling skin. “I’m making it an order. Once was enough.” The mention of it was enough to lift Sanada’s uninjured arm, touching the patch over his right eye where his sight will never be the same again.
“You can’t stop me from doing my duty, Okashira.”
“Stop it.” Yukimura’s voice was harsh. “Don’t call me that.”
Sanada paused, considered.
As hands moved to settle around his waist, Sanada pulled him closer, shuddering just slightly at the lips pressing lightly on his open wound.
“… As you wish, Seiichi.”
He was content in chasing dreams and waking up with nothing. He was allowed to see this. Here he could touch a dream, and it wouldn’t disappear.
Alpha Pair. Zombie Apocalypse AU. Based on High School of the Dead.
That is all.
-/-
Third Day. Sundown. Niou's House.
If someone told Yukimura that this day was going to come, he would have laughed, not in their face of course, but after the person has come and gone along with their ravings about the end of the world coming.
He should've listened.
"Yukimura."
He paused and looked up at Sanada, whose face was hidden in the shadow of the darkened bedroom. His bokken was at his side, held tightly, his body coiled tight, a predator ready to strike at any moment.
Yukimura had always admired Sanada for his tenacity and skills, but never had he appreciated it completely until this moment, until they had to run for their lives, until they had to see them ripping at their friends, their classmates, their families.
"How are they?" Yukimura stood up, moving forward, only to wince and cringe at the sudden, shooting pain on his ankle. Sanada moved quickly, however, catching him by the shoulders to steady him and to take some of the weight off Yukimura's compromised leg.
"Don't move, or your sprain won't heal." Sanada told him sternly, still so unmovable and calm after what happened. Yukimura wished he had that kind of solid composure, because even until now, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"But the others? Is Niou..." Yukimura thought he would throw up the moment they arrived in the deserted, thrashed family home, especially when he saw Niou's face. That they still had food that would last them a few days if they were smart about it, and a place to hide from them was a small blessing.
"Yagyuu's keeping him up." Slowly they shuffled back to the bed, Yukimura being eased back on the sheets while Sanada sat beside him. The bokken was placed respectfully on the floor in front of them. "The others are fine, trying to do whatever they can."
Gathering weapons and supplies. Taking watch. Mapping a way out of the city. While he was in the bedroom, trying to heal his sprained ankle and doing nothing for their survival.
Yukimura wrapped his arms around himself, willing himself not to tremble. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.
"Sanada, promise me something." His voice was a whisper, head bowed low as he tried his best to stop the screams clawing at his throat. But he had to say it. It was a matter of life and death.
“The moment I become a burden to you, or anyone... kill me.”
Complete, shocked silence.
“... What?” He didn’t have to look up to see the indignant, offended expression he knew was on Sanada’s face. Despite himself, his lips turned up in a smile.
Yukimura didn’t want to die. He wanted to keep fighting for his life, to protect his friends and look for their families that might still be alive, despite what was going on. But how could he protect them when he couldn’t even take care of himself right now?
“Look at me. It would’ve been all right if I broke my hand or even my arm, because even then, I can still try to escape. Now I can’t even run if they try to attack us right now.”
So he hardened his heart, forced his breaths even. He didn’t want to lose anyone he cared about. Not at the risk of his own life. Not anymore. Not like—he squeezed his eyes as a jagged scream tore through his memories. He just couldn’t.
“I mean it, Sanada.” He gathered the courage to look into Sanada’s eyes... and he did. Sanada had never looked so openly caught off-guard before, staring at him openly in disbelief. Yukimura tried a smile, and knew how pathetic it looked. “I don’t care if I die, as long as our friends have a fighting chance. So swear to it.”
Sanada had never refused him anything. This time, Yukimura was confident, would not be different.
Or so he thought.
Sanada moved so quickly Yukimura barely had a chance to react, gravity doing its wonders on his body as he was pushed down on the bed, a larger body following almost instantly, hands gripping his wrist and pinning him down on the soft, cotton sheets.
“What—?!”
“No.” Sanada looked so serious, so fierce, that Yukimura’s heart ached, a silent lurch against his chest, both from the sudden fear and the abruptness of the action. Suddenly they were closer than they’ve ever been before, Sanada’s face inches away from his own, his muscular body towering over him.
Yukimura had never felt more vulnerable in his entire life until that moment.
“Let me go!” He said through suddenly heated cheeks, glaring up at Sanada.
“No.” If anything, Sanada’s stare looked more pronounced, more intense. It made his pulse stutter.
“It’s not your decision to make!” Yukimura shot back, trying to move his wrists, but to no avail. When it came to raw, brute strength, he had nothing on Sanada. “I’m not letting myself be a burden to everyone here! I’d rather die as myself than be one of them!”
“I’m not going to let you go!”
The words echo in his mind, so stunned he didn’t reply. Seven words that could be taken in so many ways. Sanada didn’t mean it that way. Not in the way Yukimura thought, he knew Sanada didn’t, but... still...
It made his heart race.
“I’m not going to leave anyone behind. All of us would get through this alive. If I have to carry you on my back when we need to run, then I would.” Sanada said, fingers tightening on his hold, enough to make Yukimura stay where he was, unable to stay back, unable to look away. “I’m not giving you up.”
“Sanada, don’t...” Yukimura wanted him to stop, because he couldn’t promise that, that all of them would still be alive at the end of it all. It would only end in tears and heartbreak, guilt, regret and frustration. The chances of all them surviving was less than one percent, Yanagi was certain, and yet Yukimura couldn’t help but believe in Sanada’s simple conviction.
They would all live, or die trying.
Sanada’s words made his breath catch in his throat, a darker shade of red covering his cheeks. He swallowed thickly, helpless in Sanada’s solid strength, the promises he had never broken.
“I’ll protect you until my last breath. That’s my promise.”
Yukimura was certain that he wouldn’t break this one.
“Genichirou...”
“So don’t make me say a promise that I can’t keep.” He whispered, and Yukimura’s chest constricted painfully. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t force Sanada to leave him behind, and a large part of him was relieved, terribly grateful, because it meant that he would stay with Sanada longer.
Why do you break my resolve so easily?
They stared at each other for the longest time, trying to convey a lot of things words couldn’t say.
Sanada’s gaze slowly became half-lidded, drawing closer, thumb brushing lightly against Yukimura’s pulse. Yukimura’s chest jumped at the action, parting his lips, and closing his eyes shut.
“Seiichi…”
A single word was whispered against Sanada’s lips.
“Okay.”
Please…
Wet heat finally connected and melded, Yukimura’s wrists released from their shackles, only to wrap themselves around a tanned neck, fingers tangling themselves in the shock of short, raven hair. His body was lifted up, caged inside taut arms, but the only thing that filled his vision was golden fire, scorching in its intensity.
It's been a while since I've written for Prince of Tennis. But now I'm doing it. I'm gonna do it, don't judge me, but I am doing it. Yes.
A Free!PoT!Alpha! AU. Because I've caught up with the anime and I'm sold by the abs, pecs, biceps, triceps and deltoids. Makoto's a cutie patootie, I ship MakoHaru because they're like an old married couple and they're fucking cute, and swimming's my favorite sport. Help, I've fandomed and I can't get up.
--
The sun was just below the window panes of the transparent skylight and slowly dipping, and yet there was still activity in Rikkaidai's indoor swimming pool. The normally serene water was disturbed by the entry of a tanned arm as a similarly tan body pushed past, sinking easily into its depths, steel cutting through flesh in a rhythmic cycle of quick entry and exit. Long, lean legs encased in tight, black spandex and nylon kicked just under the surface, propelling its owner nearer to the other side of the pool.
And, standing on the dry ground, he saw this all, a stopwatch on hand, one eye on the time and the other on the swimmer, observing the form, the strokes the other made as the stopwatch counted down the seconds to zero. A hand slapped on the ceramic tile in resolution just as a voice shouted over the relatively quiet din.
The swimmer took off his swimming cap and his goggles, shaking his head to get rid of the water dripping on his hair, looking for the direction of the voice..
"Who's there?"
"Good work." The observer went over to the edge of the pool, sitting back on his heels as he showed the recorded time on the stopwatch. "You made a new personal record. You broke the previous by .76 seconds."
Momentary surprise crossed over the swimmer's features. With a grumble, Sanada Genichirou looked away, scowling at the water.
"Not good enough. And you're not supposed to be here."
Yukimura Seiichi's lips twitched upwards against his will. "You would say that." He held out a hand, and helped Sanada hoist himself off the pool, abdominals, pectorals, and obliques glistening with drops of clear cool water.
Sanada maneuvered himself mid-jump, sitting on the edge while taking the offered towel and drying himself off. "Still not enough to beat Tezuka. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting."
""You've already beaten Tezuka's record unofficially today. I asked permission to leave the hospital for one day. I'm sick, Sanada, not an invalid." Yukimura sat beside him, staring at the water, but not really seeing it. "I had to get away, just for a while."
Sanada paused mid-rub to look at his captain, who was swirling his bare foot on the water, watching the way it created ripples on the surface.
"We'll win. You know that."
"I know." Yukimura sighed. "And I believe you. I'm just..." Scared. He didn't have to say it. He pulled his feet out of the water, tucking his chin on top of his knees as he looked at and beyond Sanada. The gravity of the situation loomed over them both, silence passing between them in a show of silent understanding.
"... We won't lose." Sanada finally said, breaking the quiet that surrounded both of them. He looked at Yukimura then, stare direct, with the familiar intensity reflected deep into warm brown eyes. "So don't lose either."
"... I won't." Yukimura's shoulders relaxed, knew then he made the right decision to come here. He had to see it, to see someone do the sport he had come to love so much, to give him strength. So he wouldn't be afraid. He smiled.
"Thank you."
Yukimura laughed softly when Sanada blushed and looked away, it was a sort of a reflection of the time when they first met, on their first swimming lesson at the age of four.
But things were different this time. It might be because they were now taller, older, more experienced. But it was because of the mingled taste of chlorine and water on his lips, of a mouth moving against his with purpose, the splash of warmed water on his cheek, sliding down on his skin.
When Sanada opened his eyes, Yukimura was gone, the stopwatch blinking beside his hand.
Anonymous asked:
Sanada and Yukimura, kissing and caressing the scars they have.
--
It always starts with Sanada’s lips on his neck.
It is never on his lips; the raven’s kisses will always begin on the side, pressing on the skin just peeking out of his collar. Soft, fleeting, and never fails to make him shiver. Yukimura inhales a sharp breath, fingers clenching, but he tilts his head back, allowing Sanada to do more.
There was nothing special in that spot on his neck, except for the long, barely noticeable scar perpendicular from his shoulder, the result from a hooded man holding a blade against him when he was four. It’s the start of numerous, failed attempts.
It’s only in these stolen, private moments that he allows himself to let go, to feel. Sanada will probe deeper, with a flash of teeth this time, and Yukimura gasps, arching back. Sanada’s hands travel, lingering on the bruises on his wrist (kidnapping a few days ago), the few bumps up his arms and biceps (lucky, deep stabs and grazed bullet wounds). Yukimura has so many scars now, he lost count on just how much he had, and how deep they get. But he remembers every single one, and the very instance he gets them.
He has forever given up on the thought of his body being flawless, unmarred. Being in their kind of life, there will always be something threatening his safety and/or life, and avoiding them all is impossible. There will always be a point where he will be torn, broken, bruised, and they will leave their own mark on his skin.
Yukimura moans, yearning for Sanada’s touch and Sanada relents, calloused hands roaming through naked flesh.
A web of wrinkled flesh on his shoulder (bullet wound). An already covered laceration at his side (impaled on a sword). Contracted skin on his stomach (torture using a hot, red poker). Uniform patches of raised skin where stitches used to be in place, crisscrossing his chest (impromptu heart surgery after an attempted assassination).
These wounds are everlasting. They mangled his entire torso, his body as a whole, and they aren’t something an ordinary man should have. And yet they’re treated with gentleness, an almost reverence. Affection.
Love.
“You’re beautiful.” Sanada whispered.
Yukimura’s heart beat staccato in his chest. He feels helpless, body surging under Sanada, fingers clenching in the sheets. He raises himself up, mouthing the patchwork on Sanada’s chest that mirrored his own (catching a bullet not intended for him). Lean fingers twine themselves in raven-coloured hair, clenching on the heat that entered him.
“Genichirou,” he gasps against parted lips. He clutched at Sanada’s biceps (a decade old burn, and a light scratch what hasn’t completely healed) as he sunk down, large hands steadying, grounding, splayed at his lower back (a fading bruise).
It doesn’t matter to Yukimura anymore, on how much his body suffered. He welcomes this kind of pain, this wound that doesn’t affect his mind but his heart, leaving behind the scars only Sanada can give. He craves it, cherishes it, needs it.
Because then, they will never forget.
Sanada buries his face in his neck, their bodies trembling as they clutched at each other.
And you will never, ever be able to leave my side.
Anonymous asked:
Prompt: ZooKeeper!Sanada and FlowerBoy!Yukimura, and how they failed to guess each other's jobs correctly when they first met.
--
It was Sanada’s day off after a long while, a blissful 24 hours that he didn’t have to listen to screeching animals and taking care of temperamental carnivores. He loved animals, rightly fitting for his current job, but sometimes a little break from the monotony of his job was nice. The weekend was a clear day, and he found himself itching to swing a racket; to the public tennis courts then. Tennis was a hobby that almost morphed into a stable career had he pursued it, but in the end his interests lay more in the proper care of other species of wildlife. It didn’t mean that he had to abandon his passion, however, and soon enough he was in the park, going to the courts where a sizable crowd congregated in a certain area.
Curiosity piqued, Sanada pushed his way into the people, hearing snatches of various conversations, most of them centring on the current match. He craned his head (His height was always convenient in these kinds of situations), and he was met with both a frightening and incredible sight.
A handful of players, sprawled on the ground, while the current one playing was running around trying to return the ball being volleyed, smashed and rallied against him in a fast and brutal. It was almost pitiful.
The player finally gave up, and his opponent turned to the throng of people, revealing his face, and Sanada was almost stunned on how, well, pretty he (she?) was.
“Who wants to play with me next?” He asked sweetly, and Sanada could feel himself smirking, stepping out to face him. It’s been a while since he played against a formidable opponent.
“I will.”
The next few moments were in a blur. By now their court was almost surrounded and nobody was playing except for them, and Sanada hadn’t felt this exhilarated since his middle school years. The score was 2-4 in the other guy’s favour, but Sanada liked a challenge.
“You’re pretty good.” The other male acknowledged as they took the usual short break before another match. “You’re playing professionally?”
“No.” Sanada blinked at that. “I thought it was you.” Someone of that skill and calibre could only be a pro, and Sanada was surprised that he could even keep up. “Which in that case I would ask why you’re putting up with these small fry.”
“Oh no, I could never play professional.” The other man demurred, laughing and tipping back a water bottle. “I–” Whatever he was going to say was dissolved by a loud ringing. “One moment.” The guy held a hand up and rummaged for his phone, answering it and “Hello, Yukimura here–oh, good day, Tezuka-kun! Your order? Yes, I finished it up this morning, two dozen red roses, am I correct? Yes, you can just pick it up at the shop–” Yukimura paused and shook his head, “No, there is no way that I’ll go to Atobe’s flower arranging party or whatever it is, I’m busy–”
Now Sanada didn’t judge or discriminate other people for whatever reason as long as they did their jobs well and properly. But there were some things that he didn’t expect, and this was one of them. He was playing against a... florist, apparently. Huh.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Sanada was so out of it that he almost didn’t hear Yukimura speaking to him. “Something came up with my work so I’ll have to cut our match short. Do you mind?” He started packing up his things.
“No, not at all,” Sanada was quick to answer, standing up and offering a hand. “It was a good match.”
“Yes, it was, isn’t it?” Yukimura beamed back, shaking his hand. “You must tell me your name so we can resume this. If you don’t play professional, then you must be an athlete, at the very least.”
“No, I work with animals.” The surprised that coloured Yukimura’s face was priceless. “My name’s Sanada. Genichirou.” He added. “You’re... Yukimura?”
“Seiichi.” Yukimura affirmed with a smile and it was a good thing that Sanada was standing firmly, or else he’d be knocked away by that smile. “Sanada-kun, shall we meet here again this weekend?”
“Uh... sure.” Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada decided after he managed to regain the sensation on his legs, was deadly, even off the tennis courts.
He might as well go home. But only after his mind was cleared, and his vision was all right.
Anonymous asked penstrokestories:
Prompt: Yukimura was joking about Sanada being his boyfriend, but apparently Sanada took it a little too seriously.
So SO sorry for not being able to write as quickly as I could, since it's approaching winter break and school's been demanding lately. But after this week, univ would be over for the holidays, so I'll have more time! Anon, sweet anon, this is for you!
And this time around, Sanada would get even. :))
--
"I'll walk you home, Yukimura."
Yukimura paused a little and stared at Sanada in amusement. "The day is over now, Sanada. You can drop it." he closed his locker and made to carry his tennis bag, but a hand stopped him before he even got close.
"I'll do it." And Sanada looked so determined that Yukimura didn't find it in his heart to refuse him. He smiled and let Sanada carry his bag, opening the door for him so they could walk home together, the late afternoon sun just hovering above the treeline.
In hindsight, this was completely, utterly Niou's fault. It had started in the morning actually: Yukimura had been running late that morning because he helped Sanada with his art homework, stretching out in the late night that he slept through his alarm. The regulars were relentless in their teasing afterwards, and of course, Niou had to deliver the punchline.
"That's because Sanada kept me up all night. You know how it is."
"Next time, try not to let your boyfriend tire you out, we have practice, remember?"
Granted, he was also teasing, but Yukimura stopped when Sanada gave him a blank, completely shocked look. He might've brought it too far, so he never spoke about it again, but the rest of the day, Sanada hung around him like a puppy trailing behind its owner, complete with the look.
And after everything, Yukimura was completely exhausted. Sanada was persistent, staying closer by his side whenever opportunity allowed, glaring at anyone who came ten feet near him and managing to scare most of the third years away, and Yukimura was extremely baffled with his actions. Sanada wasn't that angry, was he? It was just an honest joke, and Yukimura would apologize if Sanada was really offended by it. Was this Sanada's form of payback?
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice that they were in front of his house already, and Sanada was tapping his shoulder to make him look up.
"Yukimura, we're here."
"Huh?" Yukimura looked up, startled, only to see that Sanada was standing very close to him, barely six inches away, staring at him intently. It made him feel somewhat uncomfortable... and flustered at the same time.
It was Sanada who spoke first.
"I should go as well. It's getting late."
"Yeah. See you in the morning, Sanada." That sounded a tad more breathless than he would've liked.
"... Yukimura."
"Hm?"
Yukimura shouldn't underestimate Sanada at all. He knew that, and yet he must've been unconsciously doing it, because he hadn't been expecting the action at all.
Sanada... definitely had moves.
"...What...?" Yukimura felt that his knees were going to give on him any second. It had been so quick, so abrupt, and yet he felt like melting on the ground... or in Sanada's arms.
"You can't be angry at me... I'm your lover now, remember?" Sanada's voice was deep and held a tinge of amusement, drawing away and Yukimura shuddered at the loss of warmth.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Seiichi."
Yukimura could only watch him walk away, cheeks flaring red, lips still tingling as he traced them with a finger.
The bastard took his first kiss.
And yet he couldn't even summon the urge to be angry.
