i saw this floating around XD
Actually, I shouldn't do be doing this, seeing how I suck big time at replying to requests. But since I'm doing a splendid job at avoiding RL... why not?
Rules:
1. You may request either a prequel or a sequel of any of my finished fanfics.
2. Of any unfinished fic, you can request a prequel. Or a paragraph. Whatever XD
3. Expect this prequel or sequel ( Read more... )
Rules:
1. You may request either a prequel or a sequel of any of my finished fanfics.
2. Of any unfinished fic, you can request a prequel. Or a paragraph. Whatever XD
3. Expect this prequel or sequel ( Read more... )
Comments 38
SO EXCITED FOR THIS FFFYEAH
Alternatively, some prequel to widowerfic with Suzaku and Euphy? ♥ Maybe how they first met, an excerpt from their wedding day, or her funeral.
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8D
Hmm. Suzaku/Euphy <3
(let me see how I'll do this. XD)
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....I mean... ... :D
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***
He steps into the backroom with his heart beating so loudly he's sure the others can hear the steady thumping .
Suzaku really shouldn't be here, but then he thinks it's better than drowning his sorrows in alcohol or turning to some kind of pill that would do nothing but dull the pain for a few hours.
But this isn't about pain, so Suzaku pushes that strand of thought aside, deciding to survey his surroundings -- as well as the dim light casting a yellowish glow over the place allows.
It's just as sordid as he expected: loud grunting and groaning as men of various ages engage in all kinds of sexual acts with nothing to hold them back or stop them. It's all about fucking. Just fucking as if there was nothing else to do.
It's so very, very sordid.
And just as hot as he imagined, Suzaku notes, the material of his pants feeling uncomfortably tight. His breath hitches, and he bites his underlip ( ... )
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That is evil XD. But I love the idea.
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“I don’t get what’s so special about breasts,” Sasuke said, glaring holes into the ceiling. He wasn’t getting out of bed this Saturday, no sir. “They’re just … mounds of flesh. Babies drink milk from them.” He made a face. “That’s not sexy.”
Naruto lay sprawled out on the floor, playing with his play station. He chuckled loudly.
Sasuke rose an eyebrow. “What?”
“You are just strange, that’s all,” Naruto said, and turned around to look at him, blue eyes glinting with unadulterated amusement.
“Strange because I don’t masturbate to pictures of old hags with D-cups?” He snorted, and went back to looking up at the plaster white of his ceiling. Yes, ceilings were nice: better than breasts, anyhow.
“… Women in their twenties aren’t old hags, Sasuke.”
Sasuke sat up, eyes narrowed. “If I say they are old hags, then they are!”
“Oh shut up, who cares what you think? Normal thirteen-year-old boys think breasts are sexy.” Naruto rolled his eyes and went back to playing his game ( ... )
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but I think I want a sequel to your Watanuki/Yuuko fic.
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The sort of dreams, in which he’d chase after Yuuko, find himself calling out her name, only to receive no answer.
What he wasn’t quite prepared for:
Strange visions of a pale woman in a red kimono riding him. Warmth engulfing him as he kissed her lips, too scared to touch, but too enchanted to not do anything either. The memory of her soft sighs as she moved on top of him …
Those dreams are strange, not because he has them, but because they feel so real, and as far as Watanuki is concerned, he’s never had sex.
He would have remembered an event like that (only he didn’t).
Shaking his head, he shifts on his softly-cushioned resting place and takes a brief drag from his pipe. By now, he’s gotten so used to the taste that he no longer starts hacking his lungs out after ten minutes. Now, it’s fifteen (a record, Doumeki tells him).
But with her gone, Watanuki feels that he’s gotten used to a lot of things. Being alone, locked up in a shop that he told himself he would never enter again once ( ... )
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ii) the writing in this is godawful. Sorry, the product after not having slept all night. A part of me considered writing implied Doumeki/Watanuki sex just to parallel the Yuuko/Watanuki in the prequel. But I didn't. I rather like the nearly gen feel of this ficlet.
iii) I missed you, Clamp. Damnit -_-
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i)It's the right kind of angst. I knew what I was asking for.
ii)Thank you for leaving DouWata out, I like the gen feel too.
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***
“I can’t believe you’re bloody doing this to me,” Alex says, the clock hanging on the wall just above the fridge ticking steadily - a steady sound that rings through the otherwise deadly silence like church bells.
Yet, there’s no salvation to be found here, though: the clock is just ticking to indicate the change of time, to show that - even if one wants time to stand still - things shall forever shift away, and rearrange themselves into new lines. Nothing can be molded back into the shape that it once was.
(And so the clock becomes Death’s soundtrack music, the silent companion always lurking in the background.)
But maybe it’s not the clock that’s making any noise, not that daft thing he bought at some market in Hertfordshire, but the pulse of his heart.
Perhaps, it’s not the seconds bleeding away to minutes, but despair clawing his hope and dreams asunder.
Maybe it’s -
“Oh please, don’t look at me like this,” is all he offers, voice devoid of any emotion, just laced with boredom. “I already told ( ... )
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( ... )
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XD
*dies*
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