. r i e n . n ' e s t . s a c r é .

Merlin - Fashion Sense

brichan@gmail.com — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 06:30:14 GMT

Title: Fashion Sense
Author: jetaimerai
Rating: PG
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 1,110
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Summary: Arthur decides that Merlin needs new clothes, to Merlin's confusion and chagrin.
Note: Un-betaed. Written for hi_mit_su.

“Here's your breakfast, sire,” Merlin chirps, perky as usual, as he places the platter of food in front of Arthur. Arthur barely nods before he begins to eat, but this time Arthur's eyes don't stop looking at him. After a moment of being held by his intense stare, Merlin looks down at himself and checks everything – he's completely dressed, check, he's clean, check, there are no sudden random appendages growing out of him, check. Merlin fidgets and then blurts, “What is it?”

Arthur blinks in momentary surprise, and then sighs in exasperation. “Is that seriously the only outfit you own, Merlin?”

“What? No, of course not!” Merlin crosses his arms, feeling a little defensive.

“Are you sure about that? Because I never see you wear anything other than that outfit.” He pauses, and then grins. “Well, except that one time when you wore those dress robes--,”

“Okay that's enough of that!” Merlin interrupts, as he doesn't want Arthur to bring that up again or to get any ideas about it. He shudders just in remembrance.

Arthur looks smug about the reaction, which makes Merlin want to throttle him, but only a little. “Seriously, Merlin, it's embarrassing how little regard you have for your own appearance.”

Merlin narrows his eyebrows in confusion. What on Earth has gotten into Arthur today? “I'm... just a servant though, Arthur.”

Arthur nods. “Exactly! You're my manservant, and so it reflects poorly on me. C'mon Merlin, we're gonna go to the tailor's to get something new for you to wear.” Before Merlin could even protest Arthur stood up and went towards the door, and the only thing the greatly confused servant could do is follow him.

–

Merlin is standing with arms and legs akimbo as the tailor carefully takes measurements of his body while Arthur is spouting off what he wants for him.

“Of course we have to get the cheapest fabric for him as he will undoubtedly get it dirty all the time. His clothes are always baggy and unsightly so make sure these aren't. As for colors--,”

“Do I get a say in this at all?” Merlin groans.

“No, of course not, your fashion sense is to never be trusted. As I was saying, Merlin stands out on his own simply because of his ears--,”

“Hey!”

“--so he definitely shouldn't be wearing bright colors. Very dark blue should suffice. Lastly, put the Pendragon insignia on his tunic--,”

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me.”

“How dare you insinuate that I am anything other than very serious, Merlin. Make it small, because a big one would be utterly tasteless.”

“No, seriously Arthur, I refuse to wear a tunic with your insignia on it.”

“Is that so? Would you rather wear a dress instead? Because we can arrange that.,” Arthur smirks. While Merlin splutters over the thought, he says, “That should be all. How long do you think it'll take?”

“It should take about two days, Your Highness,” the tailor replies meekly.

“Excellent. C'mon then Merlin, you have a lot of chores to do, starting with cleaning out the stables...”

Merlin glares at him. “Sometimes I really can't believe how much of a prat you are.” Arthur just grins.

–

Merlin picks up the outfit two days later on his order. He was strangely adamant about seeing him wear it, which only seemed to further confirm Merlin's suspicions of enchantment. The only thing is, what kind of enchantment would make Arthur behave this way? He couldn't think of any reason why a sorcerer would want Merlin to change his clothes. Gaius had only laughed at him when he mentioned it, which was incredibly unhelpful, thanks Gaius.

The clothing is certainly tighter than he is used to, but not actually uncomfortable. Begrudgingly Merlin has to admit to himself that the dark blue tunic and sleek black pants actually look decent, though he would never admit that to Arthur. Even the insignia isn't quite as much of an eyesore as Merlin expected – it's truly small, and stitched in a lighter blue color right next to his right collarbone.

However he's running late so he quickly grabs breakfast for Arthur and brings it to him. “Here's your breakfast,” he says, a little surly.

Arthur grunts and takes a bite before looking back up at Merlin, where he promptly stops. “Merlin, you look...”

“Like an idiot? I know,” Merlin says, clasping his hands behind his back.

“No, no. I mean, well yes, you always look like an idiot but you are one,” Arthur grins briefly, “But I meant that you look good.” He stands up to walk towards him.

Merlin blinks. Now it really feels like something's wrong. “Uh... thanks, Arthur.” He pauses. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Arthur stops in front of him, only a few inches away, and frowns, looking at Merlin as if he were the crazy one. “Of course I'm fine.” He reaches his hand out and his fingers graze against the insignia. Merlin's breath hitches on its own accord. “Nice insignia.” The look in his eyes isn't smug or arrogant, it's almost... gentle. He looks--

For a brief moment in his mind's eye Merlin sees himself leaning in, closing the distance between them to capture those full, pink lips. Instead he swallows and says, “I'm not your property, Arthur.”

That seems to snap Arthur out of whatever trance he was in. His hand slips away from him and Merlin feels unexpectedly colder. He smirks arrogantly but it doesn't reach his eyes. “You're my servant, of course you are.”

Looks like Arthur's back to normal after all. “That doesn't mean you own me, you stupid prat! What is wron--.” Arthur interrupts him by grabbing his tunic, bringing him even closer and kissing him. Maybe Merlin thought too soon about Arthur's normality, but Arthur is actually kissing him and so there is only one way to respond – by kissing him fervently back.

Arthur eventually pulls away and Merlin stares at him, flabbergasted. “Arthur... what--,”

“Shut up Merlin.” Arthur looks away and starts to step away from him, but Merlin stops him by pulling on his arm.

“You know,” Merlin says with a cheeky grin, “If you want me you could have just said something.”

Arthur turns back at him and smirks. “Shut up Merlin.” This time he shuts him up with his mouth. Merlin happily obeys.

DNAngel - Precious Declaration

brichan@gmail.com — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 09:46:16 GMT

Rules: Put your music player on random and write a drabble for the song that plays. When the song ends, stop writing! Make 10 of these drabbles! No cheating!

Title: Precious Declaration
Author: jetaimerai
Pairing: Satoshi/Daisuke
Rating: PG
Summary: Ten unrelated drabbles about Satoshi and Daisuke's relationship.

Mourir Demain – Natasha St. Pier

At every moment, Satoshi felt like he was in danger of dying. Not physically, technically. But he feared that at any moment, he could somehow lose control and let Krad loose, and if he let Krad loose… every time it happened, a little piece of his soul died.

And if Krad were ever successful with his goal of killing Daisuke, he would feel like he, too, would die.

Which was such a silly and sentimental feeling, Satoshi would never admit to it, not even to himself.

Without Love – Hairspray OST

Daisuke knew just how lucky he really was. Sure, the whole phantom thief business could really be a pain at times, but at least he had such a loving, supportive family, and his best friend lived inside of him, helping him through the day.

He knew he was lucky by looking at Satoshi. More and more Daisuke noticed just how alone Satoshi really was. Daisuke couldn’t help but wonder, how was it like to live without love? He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have his family.

That’s how he found himself reaching out to the boy, more and more. No one should live without love, Daisuke decided, even if that love was simply the love of a friend… though the more he got to know Satoshi, the more he wanted to offer him.

Just a Phase - Incubus

The first time Satoshi felt that small tug of emotions towards the redheaded boy, he simply wrote it off as a phase. A synapse in his brain going haywire.

That was his mantra the second time. And the third time. And the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. This was something that he was refusing to understand.

Who was Daisuke? He was a Niwa, his sworn enemy. If the boy should be invoking any response in Satoshi, it should be loathing. Not this… complicated tangle of warmth, confusion and uncertainty that made his stomach clench whenever they made eye contact.

It would be over soon. It had to be, he told himself.

By the tenth time, he knew that excuse no longer worked.

Apologize - OneRepublic

Satoshi should have known. For that brief moment – that brief, tantalizing moment – he truly believed that Daisuke wanted him, loved him. It was foolish from the very beginning.

Then he saw Daisuke leaning in close to Riku for a sweet kiss.

He was definitely a fool.

Fit – Bird 3

Daisuke laughed along with Saehara and his other friends over the lunch table, while inside feeling very separate from his friends. His life was just so different; he knew with great sadness that he didn’t fit, not anymore.

Satoshi walked into the cafeteria then, the gasps of girls following him. Their eyes met from across the room, and Daisuke knew, that even though he would never fit in here… he at least had an equal in Satoshi.

J’attends L’amour - Jenifer

He had been fooling himself for so, so long.

He had been focusing so much on Riku, on her being his Sacred Maiden, that he didn’t even realize the slow decline of his feelings for her. Didn’t even realize the steady increase of feelings for someone else. Someone very different.

It had taken seeing Satoshi seriously hurt for him to realize, suddenly, where his heart really lay. Dark had not been pleased, no, Daisuke hadn’t even been pleased at first.

But he couldn’t deny the strength of these feelings. He knew it would take a long time to crack Satoshi’s shell, to get close to him. But that was okay. He was willing to wait for love.

Little Sparrow - David Cook

He was not fragile. He could handle a lot of pain – he lived with Krad inside his mind, he would be dead already if he were fragile.

He tried so hard to fortify his heart, to make it hard as stone. But under the veneer he constructed lied the truth – his heart was fragile.

His heart had belonged to Daisuke, and he had crushed it.

He felt like his sorrow would never end.

All I Really Want – Alanis Morisette

They had been in an intense debate, about their rivalry. Daisuke had been sick of it, always had been sick of it. Satoshi steadfastly refused to let it go.

“Why, aren’t we friends?” Daisuke asked. “What do you really want from this?”

The genuine pain that shone from Daisuke’s eyes was enough to make something in Satoshi snap, and then he couldn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth. “All I really want,” he said, “is a distraction from my feelings for you.”

Daisuke gaped at him, for nearly a whole minute. Satoshi immediately regretted saying a word, until the boy suddenly moved forward, grabbed his face and drew him into the kiss of his lifetime.

“And all I really want is you,” Daisuke said with a smile. Satoshi finally smiled back.

Some Kind of Miracle – Kelly Clarkson

Satoshi couldn’t believe the person in his arms was real.

He had distanced himself from the world, to protect it, to protect himself. And yet Daisuke still managed to destroy all his mental barriers all with a smile.

He didn’t deserve any of this. He was from the Hikari clan. He had been cursed with Krad. His life wasn’t meant to have happiness, love, joy. Everything that Daisuke gave him, easily and freely.

He was some kind of miracle. Satoshi didn’t even believe in miracles, but the longer he held Daisuke, the more he came to believe in them.

Stars – t.A.T.u.

They were wrong, for many different reasons. They were both boys. They were from rival families; they were intensely rivals themselves. Their personalities were completely different.

It was surreal that they had even found themselves drifting towards each other. They knew no one in their life would approve of it.

Yet there they were, together and, dare they think it, in love.

American Idol RPS - saving smiles for you

brichan@gmail.com — Tue, 27 May 2008 21:20:02 GMT

Title: saving smiles for you
Author: jetaimerai
Rating: PG
Pairing: David Cook/David Archuleta
Word Count: 3,600
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction.
Summary: At that very moment, Cook had made it his mission to make him smile as much as possible.
Dedication: For ambiance, for helping me so much with this fic and putting up with all my rambling about it. ♥

David Cook was a lover of smiles. He loved to smile, and he especially loved making others smile. The real reason he always cracked corny jokes was to bring out the smiles of the people around him, even if they were paired with exasperation and remarks like “it wasn’t funny”. Any kind of smile was worth it.

However, he had never been particularly enamored with any one person’s smile.

Until now.

There was a certain purity and sweetness to the way David Archuleta smiled that had caught his attention immediately. It had been hard to coax it out of him that first time, since he had kept to himself instead of sitting with him and the other contestants. It had taken cracking five of his trademark cheesy jokes before he had finally seen his genuine smile.

At that very moment, Cook had made it his mission to make him smile as much as possible.

***

From then on, he gave Archuleta a lot of attention. Whenever he would enter the dining hall, Cook would grin widely, stand up, and beckon the younger boy to join him at their table, ignoring his friends’ confused looks as he did so. Those first few times Archuleta almost looked scared to get closer, but Cook was persistent.

He made sure to pull up a chair next to him each time. As much as he wanted everyone to become friends, he always wanted to sit next to him. That smile of his was better close up, he reasoned to himself.

One time, though, Cook found himself between Michael Johns and Jason Castro when Archuleta entered the room. By this time he had started heading towards their table automatically, but he paused when he saw Cook’s placement. Cook waved him over, and Archuleta pulled a chair to the other end of the table, away from Cook.

A feeling of disappointment suddenly swelled up in Cook, that he first tried to ignore, but when their eyes met across the table and Archuleta’s eyes had flashed with a similar disappointment – or maybe Cook was projecting, he wasn’t completely sure – he took that as his cue to get up and drag his chair to be next to Archuleta.

Everyone at the table looked surprised at the sudden action, but none more so than Archuleta himself, who was staring at him bewilderedly. “Why did you do that?”

Cook looked into his eyes. “Because I wanted to,” he said simply, smiling.

Archuleta looked even more startled at the honest answer, but then he smiled back. It was his most radiant smile yet.

***

“Hey Archie,” Cook said as he plopped on the couch next to Archuleta. He flinched, clearly still not liking his newly christened nickname, but Cook could tell by the small quirk of his lips that he was growing to like it.

He looked up from his English homework to regard him quizzically. “Hey, Cook. Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?”

“We finished early, because I’m so good I don’t need the extra practice,” Cook joked, causing Archuleta to snort. “How’s the homework going?” he asked. Cook always felt a little uneasy when presented with reminders that Archuleta was still in high school, for some reason.

Archuleta glanced at his work, then at Cook, then at his work again before placing it beside him and shifting his body so he could fully face Cook. “It’s boring,” he admitted bluntly, in a way that made Cook laugh. “Now why did you really get out of rehearsal early?” he asked, which only made Cook laugh even harder.

After taking a moment collecting himself, he feigned offense as he said, “What, you don’t believe me? Is it so hard to believe that I’m that good?”

His eyes widened. “No, that’s not it! You’re amazing! I mean…,” he stopped himself, embarrassed and blushing as he looked away, “You usually rehearse the whole time, that’s all.”

Cook had to swallow down the knot in his throat from the sudden, heartfelt compliment. “Thank you. That means so much to me, coming from you.” Archuleta looked a little uncertain, which Cook needed to erase right away. “Really, I mean it.” And he did, which must have shown on his face, for he relaxed and even looked pleased, if still a bit embarrassed.

To deflect the attention from him, Cook then continued to say in a completely serious and deadpan way, “If you really must know, it ended early because the microphone broke and they needed to fix it.”

He laughed, and Cook was content to sit back and watch him laugh. Though his mind started to wonder… he had been complimented before, why did this one affect him so strongly?

***

When he had snippets of free time, Cook sometimes liked to watch his fellow contestants rehearse. Or, more accurately, watch Archuleta rehearse.

Cook found himself genuinely blown away every time Archuleta sang. That powerful, pure voice of his had an almost cleansing effect on him every time he listened to it.

This time, it was clear that he was having a hard time. He had pitch problems all over the place, and he even forgot whole verses. He kept struggling to keep on a pleasant face, but his frustration shown through, especially as his father reprimanded him, until he politely requested a break. When he ran off stage, Cook got up to follow him.

He found him crumpled up on the ground, face in his hands. Alarmed, Cook immediately sunk down in front of him. “Archie,” he said softly, as he placed his hands on his shoulders. Archuleta looked up, and seemed even more crushed to see Cook there.

“You didn’t see it… did you?” he asked brokenly. When Cook nodded slowly, Archuleta tightly closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Cook asked gently, as he raised a hand to smooth back Archuleta’s hair. Up until this point, he hadn’t touched him this much, but seeing him in this vulnerable state… he couldn’t help himself, hoping it could comfort the boy, even a little.

“I—,” he paused, a guarded look passing over his face, “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just not my day, I guess.” Cook frowned, suddenly getting the feeling that he was hiding something from him, but he knew it wasn’t his place to push it.

“We all have bad days,” Cook began as he moved to smooth Archuleta’s hair down again. He could tell the boy was a little uncomfortable at every touch, but he wasn’t drawing away, which he read as an encouragement. “Just remember that you are still amazing, and you will be able to bounce back from this funk. Never forget that you are, okay?”

“You really think that—,” he stopped, and gulped. “Thank you.” He gave Cook a shaky smile, which made something twist in his stomach.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed him briefly on the top of his head. As he pulled away, he noticed Archuleta look away, a tinge of color on his cheeks. “Now c’mon, go back out there and knock that song out of the park!” He pulled the boy up to his feet, and as Cook watched him walk back on stage, his stomach still remained twisted, and as memories of the boy’s past smiles flitted through his mind, the feeling only grew more knotted.

No. He closed his eyes. No, he couldn’t deal with this, whatever this was. Remembering something he had to prepare for, he shoved the matter out of his mind once more.

***

Now Cook found that he simply couldn’t keep his hands off Archuleta. Whether it was innocent, “accidental” brushing or friendly arms around his shoulders, he grasped at every excuse he could. He tried to convince himself it was just a brotherly urge, and most of the time that worked, but sometimes…

It was the day of Archuleta’s prom back at his high school. He had to bite back the unreasonable tendrils of jealousy when Brooke White suggested that she be his date for the day, and he accepted. Instead of acknowledging the jealousy, he had clapped Archuleta’s back, saying that he proud of him for getting a “date” with a girl like Brooke, and then threw himself into preparing for the upcoming week’s performance.

When Cook saw him again, it was night, and music was playing in the dining hall. Everyone had decided to join in on Archuleta’s little fake prom, and of course his friends had to grab him and bring him along. He pointedly avoided looking at Archuleta and Brooke dancing until they had stopped, and Cook took the opportunity to speak to him.

“Hey Archie, how’s the date going?” he asked, teasing, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Archuleta spluttered. “It’s not a real—.”

“I know,” Cook interrupted, “Just hoping that you’re having a good time.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “I am. Brooke’s really nice.”

He was glad for him, really he was. After being nearly alone at the beginning, he was happy to see him become closer to the others. The swell of affection he felt made him fully put his arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer. “What are you two doing now?”

“Brooke wanted to dance with Jason,” he explained, “and I…,” he didn’t finish the thought, instead just looked up at Cook.

“Your date ditched you?” he joked, punctuating it with a low whistle.

Archuleta looked stricken. “No, no! It wasn’t like that at all! It was—,” he stopped, because Cook had burst out laughing. Archuleta became a little annoyed and embarrassed, pouting at him.

It looked so cute on him he couldn’t help but ask, “Since you’re now going stag, would you like to dance?” It was supposed to come out as a joke, really, it was, but somehow on the way out of his mouth it had, to his horror, become serious.

A multitude of emotions crossed Archuleta’s face; he was clearly struggling with something. For a brief moment, Cook thought that Archuleta wanted to say yes. Then Archuleta looked away towards Brooke and said, “No, thank you. Brooke seems almost done dancing with Jason anyway.” Then he pulled away from him.

Putting on a mask over the sudden sting of disappointment, Cook smiled and said, “Alright. Go get her, tiger!” Archuleta looked at him like he had sprouted a second head, before just shaking his head and laughing.

He shouldn’t have felt disappointed, but he did. He realized abruptly that he really did want to dance with him, to have his arms around him completely, to have his body flushed up against his…

No brother ever felt that way. With a sinking heart, he knew he could no longer ignore this.

***

He spent his nights tossing and turning. Archuleta was a 17-year-old boy, still in high school. It went against all his cumulated knowledge of those he’s attracted to. He’s always loved women, older women even. What was it about him that changed everything?

He was not a pedophile, yet he was haunted by the thought that someone would be able to figure it out and lock him up for even thinking about him that way.

He got less and less sleep as a result, and it started to show. But he always cracked a joke before Archuleta could ask him what was wrong. That damn smile of his was what started it all, and he still couldn’t get enough of it.

***

Seeing Syesha Mercado leave was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it meant that Cook and Archuleta would be spending virtually all their time together now. A curse because it meant that Cook and Archuleta would be spending virtually all their time together now.

The time passed in a blur, a hectic but extremely enjoyable blur, but that didn’t mean he still didn’t have time for his wonderful, amazing, underappreciated jokes.

They were at the Guitar Hero commercial shoot, and Archuleta had gone first. He looked positively terrified when he stepped out of the dressing room, wearing nothing but a white shirt and white boxers.

He tried not to look. Really, he put in his most valiant effort to restrain his eyes from lingering. If he had felt like a pedophile before, he felt like one now a million times over.

But when ten minutes had passed, and Archuleta still looked terrified, he realized an intervention was needed, and he knew just the thing. The director was urging him to calm down, but he couldn’t, so Cook strolled up and said, “here, let me.” He turned to the younger boy, who seemed to get even more nervous under his gaze, and asked, “Where do pirates like to eat?”

Archuleta completely forgot himself for a moment, his face scrunching up as he tried to figure out the most appropriate answer to that. Finally, he settled on, “I don’t know,” with a resigned tone to his voice.

“Arrrrrrrrrrrrby’s,” he laughed with relish, complete with his signature gesture.

First, he stared at him. Then his lips started to twitch. Cook gestured again, which prompted Archuleta to finally crack up laughing, like he should have at the start. Honestly.

When the laughs subsided, a silly grin was left on Archuleta’s face, and Cook oddly felt his heart soar. He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and turned to the director saying, “He’s ready to party now!”

After Archuleta’s laughter at that remark, they were finally ready to begin. Cook stayed in the room, for moral support, and tried not to be too pleased every time their gazes met, which was often.

When it was Cook’s turn, he had briefs instead of boxers, but he didn’t let that faze him. He caught Archuleta shooting quick, furtive glances at him, and he couldn’t stop the thrill that shot up his spine.

He knew, then, that something had shifted between them.

***

He couldn’t get the image of Archuleta in that commercial out of his mind, which made Cook feel like a lecherous old man. It didn’t help that ever since then Archuleta had been slightly more open to his touch. He didn’t actively initiate anything, but he did make himself even more accessible, and Cook couldn’t help but respond to that.

But with every touch his desire to do something more only deepened, which is why he needed to go to desperate measures to make sure this didn’t get out of control.

Which is how he found himself asking out Kimberly Caldwell on live television. He was genuinely attracted to her, she was gorgeous, and she seemed so sweet and fun. He really did want to go out on a date with her.

The fact that it could keep his mind off his growing feelings for Archuleta was only a side benefit.

***

At the start of the finale, he couldn’t believe that there was only two hours to go before Archuleta won. Of course no one knew for sure, but Cook genuinely felt like Archuleta was going to win, and deserved the win, especially as they sang Hero together. He loved singing with him, and he only hoped that when he won, Archuleta would ask him to collaborate with him.

At the moment of truth, he began to brace himself, preparing the words of congratulations he will say to Archuleta when Ryan Seacrest calls out his name, except…

…he called out his.

He turned to embrace Archuleta deeply, saying the first thing on his mind: “I love you.” No matter what other feelings he was dealing with, he knew this to be the truth. Archuleta told him how proud of him he was, and when Cook faced the crowd, the reality of what just happened settled in and he couldn’t contain his tears.

Later, as he was singing the coronation song, surrounded by the other smiling contestants and with Archuleta under his arm, with Archuleta’s arm around his waist, looking up at him adoringly and with that smile, he truly felt the lyrics of the song. It was the time of his life.

***

He couldn’t get any rest after that, hitting interview after interview. He was so surprised and amazed that he had won, but he stayed modest, incessantly praising Archuleta at every opportunity.

As the exhaustion began to seep in, he felt himself becoming a little more open, so when he was doing the AT&T text chat and he was asked, “Who do you think would win in an actual boxing match: you or Archuleta?”, he gave his gut response.

“Archie! He's too nice of a kid! He would have flashed me that smile and I would have let my guard down. Then he would have bopped me a good one!”

Immediately afterwards he stared, stunned for a moment that he had actually admitted that, and then relaxed. People will just think he’s being funny. Brotherly. He just hoped that Archuleta wouldn’t find it.

***

Naturally, Cook jinxed himself.

He was finally back in the hotel room, wanting nothing more than to just collapse. He was about to get ready for bed when he heard a timid knock on his door, and Cook tiredly called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, revealing Archuleta on the other side. After the constant barrage of reporters and lights, he was a welcome sight. “Hey Archie,” he grinned.

Archuleta walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He seemed almost sly and nervous at the same time, an unusual but curious combination. “Do you really think I’d beat you in a boxing match?”

Great. So he had seen it. Cook chuckled, sitting down on the bed and beckoning the boy to come sit next to him. “Yes, I do.”

Archuleta gingerly sat next to him and then looked at Cook with an almost teasing brightness in his eyes. “Because of my smile?” he whispered tentatively.

He was never going to hear the end of it now. “Yes,” he confirmed, and instead of elaborating he asked, “What about you? What do you think?”

Archuleta seemed surprised but pleased, which must have given him the confidence to say, “I think you would win,” he looked away, “because you would flash your smile and I would let my guard down.” He looked back, smiling sheepishly at him.

If it had been anyone else, Cook would have immediately accused them of mocking him, but Archuleta wouldn’t do that, not like this. “Is that so?” he whispered, and with Archuleta’s short nod, the two couldn’t stop grinning at each other.

Suddenly the air changed, became thicker, and all Cook wanted to do in that moment was lean in and kiss him. He unconsciously moved closer to the boy, but then there was a flash of nervousness, then a spark in Archuleta’s eyes, and the boy punched him, lightly, on the arm.

Cook snapped out of his trance and cracked up laughing. “Archie!” he exclaimed, “That was low!”

Archuleta managed to mutter an apology among all his clear, joyous laughter, and that was when Cook realized he was in love with him.

Once they had calmed down, Archuleta looked up at him through his eyelashes. "So...," he started shyly, looking like he wasn't even sure he wanted to say this, "why would my smile bring your guard down?"

Still reeling from his realization, and filled to the brim with love and affection for him, he gave into his desire. Cook slowly closed the distance between them, and their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss. It was even better than he had been guiltily imagining. It lasted only a moment; he knew as a responsible adult that he shouldn’t have done that but he couldn’t, wouldn’t want to ever take that moment back.

When Cook pulled back Archuleta’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling.

“That’s why,” Cook admitted warmly.

Archuleta stared at him in astonished disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Cook smirked and kissed him again, just a little harder this time, and Archuleta definitely reciprocated.

“W-what about Kimberly?” he asked shakily, clearly scared of the answer.

Cook remembered with a pang that he had asked Kimberly Caldwell out right in front of him. Cook pressed his forehead against his and smiled. “She was a moment of weakness. I’d much rather be here with you.”

A range of emotions crossed over Archuleta’s face, and Cook marveled at how expressive he was, and how obvious Archuleta’s feelings had been all this time. He almost wanted to apologize for taking so long to act on it.

But then Archuleta opened his mouth, saying “I lo—.”

“Shhh,” he stopped him. Cook didn’t want to hear it, not so soon. It warmed his heart just thinking about what Archuleta was about to say, but it wasn’t the right time. “I know. C’mon, we should be going to sleep, we have a long day ahead of us.”

He pouted in disappointment, and that was the last thing Cook wanted to see so he kissed him, again. He was realizing very quickly how wonderful it felt to kiss the boy, and how hard it will be to restrain himself from doing it all the time.

It seemed to finally sink in for Archuleta, for when Cook pulled away once more, he was beaming. It was so beautiful it almost hurt.

But to witness that beauty, Cook was willing to hurt. He was willing to endure anything to be in the presence of that smile.

Phoenix Wright - Assorted Drabbles

brichan@gmail.com — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 06:08:33 GMT

Title: Teacups
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: PG
Summary: Phoenix couldn't help but notice Edgeworth's pretty teacups.
Note: Written for fairness for Christmas

“Your teacups are… pretty, Miles,” Phoenix projected, as he stared at an impeccable set of china teacups with soft pink flowers painted onto them.

From the other room, one could hear a shuffle of papers and what sounded like a grunt and then footsteps, until Edgeworth had entered the kitchen and stared at Phoenix, wearing just his gray sweatpants, in front of open cupboards.

“What are you doing?” Edgeworth asked, having a pretty good idea but was hoping that Phoenix would say something better.

Phoenix looked sheepish, which spelled trouble. “You’re busy doing important paperwork, so what am I supposed to do?”

“…you decided to look through my cupboards.”

“Your teacups really are pretty, Miles,” Phoenix said with a grin.

Edgeworth sighed exasperatedly. “I can’t keep an eye off you, can I?”

“Why would you want to?” Phoenix asked, winking suggestively. Edgeworth rolled his eyes, and Phoenix abandoned the teacups to kiss him. “Let’s have some tea, Miles.” Edgeworth nodded. The paperwork could wait.

Title: Mittens
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: PG
Summary: A cold day at the courthouse leads to unexpected kindness.
Note: Written for chyama for Christmas

Edgeworth was on his way out when he spotted Phoenix sitting alone in the lobby, rubbing his bare hands together rapidly. He battled with himself for nearly a minute before deciding to step closer to the man. He regretted it immediately, but Phoenix heard and looked up. When he clearly recognized him Phoenix grinned widely, like a fool.

“Hey Miles, what are you doing here?” Phoenix chirped.

“I had some things to take care of,” he replied stiffly. There was a long, awkward pause before Edgeworth cleared his throat and asked, “Why are you here?”

“Funny story, actually,” Phoenix said, smiling sheepishly, “On my way here for my trial this morning, my car broke down, so I had to take a bus, but the bus schedules are really weird so the next one won’t be here until,” he stopped to check his watch, “an hour from now, so I’m staying in here where it’s warmer, but my hands are really cold because I forgot my gloves.”

Edgeworth could barely contain the smirk of amusement he felt forming. After another inner battle, lengthier than the one before, he finally said, “I think I have a pair of mittens in my car. I’ll let you borrow them for the night.” Once again, he regretted it immediately, wondering what had possessed him to be so kind to his rival.

The offer lit Phoenix’s face up like the sun, and Edgeworth had to look away, lest he were to get burned. “Thank you so much, Miles!” he exclaimed, standing up and giving him a hug out of gratitude. Edgeworth froze, and Phoenix let go, sensing the tension. He coughed and began rambling about something inane that Edgeworth partially tuned out as they walked out together.

Stealing a glance at Phoenix, with the memory of the hug still burning in his mind, he realized he didn’t really regret anything, after all.

Title: Ham Sandwiches
Pairing: Edgeworth/Gumshoe
Rating: G
Original Kink Meme Request: Edgeworth eating a ham sandwich!

It wasn't everyday that Edgeworth would eat something as simple and peon as a ham sandwich. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he had consumed one. But with Gumshoe looming over him, staring at him with those overeager puppy eyes, he felt that he could try it once more.

He delicately picked up the sandwich - lovingly made for him by Gumshoe, which in itself was slightly disturbing, but he had some hope that Gumshoe was at least capable of making a good sandwich. He took a small bite from it and... it was just a normal ham sandwich.

"It's decent," Edgeworth said, after having completely chewed and swallowed. (He would NEVER eat and talk at the same time!)

At those words Gumshoe's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Great! Then I'll make you one everyday!"

Edgeworth balked. They were good, but not that good. "That won't be necessary."

"No, it would be an honor to make you lunch everyday, sir!"

Edgeworth sighed. "Alright then. Now go back to work, Detective." With a chipper, "Yes sir!", Gumshoe left his office.

He looked back at the sandwich. Of course, Edgeworth wouldn't actually be eating the sandwiches everyday, but he knew Pess would love them. After all, it wouldn't do to have Gumshoe's hard work go to waste.

Title: Tutoie-moi
Pairing: Phoenix/Edgeworth
Rating: PG-13
Original Kink Meme Request: Something Phoenix/Edgeworth with either one of them (or even both!) speaking la langue d'amour.
Note: This drabble's dialogue is in French, so it's best enjoyed if you have some knowledge of the language; however, I've provided translations.

Ever since Edgeworth moved back to the United States, he wanted to keep some connection to Europe (and keep polishing his language skills), so he had many different newspapers delivered to his doorstep every morning. He didn't usually have the time to do more than just skim, yet his skills were still impeccable.

His multilingual newspapers were the last thing on his mind when he had Phoenix over, especially after a night of amazing sex. But he was quickly reminded of them when he walked into the dining room to see Phoenix peering over that day's edition of Le Monde.

Slightly startled, Edgeworth asked, "Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui," Phoenix said automatically, then paused, a frown forming on his face. "Tutoie-moi."

Ignoring his demand entirely, he asked, "Quand appreniez-vous français?"

Phoenix sighed, seeming to give up... for now. "Quand j'étais lycéen, je l'ai suivi pendant 4 ans."

This seemed to surprise Edgeworth even more. "Et savez-vous toujours?"

Phoenix flashed a brilliant grin. "Je pratique, aussi."

Edgeworth took a moment to digest everything he just heard. No, he immediately understood the French, but after all this time he had no idea Phoenix had any knowledge of it. His accent was definitely rusty, almost painful to his perfect Parisian French ears. Yet...

With that grin, and the memories of the night before fresh in his mind, he couldn't help but imagine how it could be with a different language to cry out in, especially the supposed language of love.

"Venez au lit avec moi," Edgeworth commanded, his voice deeper and huskier than normal.

Phoenix appeared to put great consideration into his answer, until he grinned and said, "Seulement si tu me tutoies."

Edgeworth sighed. It had been ingrained in him for so long to always use vous - his main teacher had been von Karma after all, who looked down on any familiarity with others - but this was Phoenix. What could it hurt...? "S'il te plaît, Wright." Okay, so he had to make up for it with the last name, but judging from Phoenix's pleased face it didn't matter.

Phoenix stood up from his seat, and deliberately brushed up against him to approach the stairs, while purring, "Je vais te baiser jusqu'au lit casse."

They ran the rest of the way.

« »

You speak French?

Yes. Call me tu. (explanation - in French there is the formal you, vous, and the informal, tu. Phoenix is asking Edgeworth to address him informally)

When did you learn French?

When I was a high school student. I took it for 4 years.

And you still know French?

I practice, too.

Come to bed with me.

Only if you call me tu.

Please, Phoenix. (Please in French is literally "if it pleases you", so he does call him tu here)

I'm going to fuck you until the bed breaks.

Apollo Justice - Just a Juvenile Game

brichan@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 06:50:10 GMT

Title: Just a Juvenile Game
Author: jetaimerai
Fandom: Apollo Justice
Pairing: Kristoph/Klavier
Rating: PG-13
Original Kink Meme Prompt: Kristoph x Klavier
Truth or Dare gone wrong. <3
Original Thread: Here

It is the eve of the trial in which Klavier won against Phoenix Wright, and the 17-year-old prosecutor is celebrating his victory with his older brother. It is dark, and only one lamp illuminates the room, giving just enough light so that the brothers can see each other. They are sitting across from each other in the fine, expensive chairs that only someone of Kristoph’s caliber would own.

“Truth or dare, Kristoph,” Klavier drawls, bringing his glass of red wine to his lips. Kristoph stares intently as he sips, staining his lips

Of course, playing the juvenile game is all Klavier’s idea. Kristoph hadn’t been thrilled with the idea at first, but Klavier has his methods of persuasion that are often hard to ignore, so he humored his dear younger brother.

Kristoph takes a long pause, seeming to consider the two options. Finally, he says, “Truth.”

“There is something that I’ve been curious about for a long time,” Klavier begins seriously, staring Kristoph straight in the eye. “I don’t remember you ever having a… significant other. Is there anyone you love?”

Kristoph carefully considered his answer. In all honesty, he had never felt such a thing called “love” towards anyone in his life. Yet, he has a hunch, and the spark of hope in Klavier’s eyes is yet more evidence. Therefore, the best answer here… is a lie. “Yes, there is,” he states simply, his voice betraying nothing.

Klavier recoils and his eyes widen. “W-who… who is it?!” he asks loudly.

Kristoph chuckles. “If I remember the rules correctly, you may only ask one question per turn. Save that question for later if you wish, but it is now my turn.” Kristoph cannot help but smirk at how Klavier deflates. “Truth or dare?”

Still disappointed, Klavier turns away as he says, “Truth.”

Now it is time to confirm his theory. “In that case… I want to ask you a similar question. There is no doubt that you have been with many people, however they never stick around. Who is it that you truly love, Klavier?”

He flinches. “How do you know that I do love someone?” He relaxes, trying to look nonchalant. “You should revise your question.”

“Your reaction just now gave you away, Klavier. Remember, you must tell me the truth, so just answer the question.”

Klavier visibly gulps and looks down into his wine glass, a deep frown etched on his face. On closer inspection, Klavier is trembling – with fear. “Please, Kristoph, don’t make me say it.”

Kristoph shows no sympathy as he shakes his head. “I am still waiting for your response.”

He takes in a deep breath, and then finishes his half-full wine glass in one gulp. He carefully sets the glass down to the table next to him, and then glances toward the lamp, unable to look Kristoph in the eye as he whispers, “It’s you, Kristoph.” Right after the words passed through his lips he closed his eyes shut hard, as if in pain.

So his theory is right after all. He finds it very interesting and very useful as well. “I see.” He purposefully stalls, to make his brother more nervous. “It’s your turn to ask me now.”

Klavier snaps up, staring at him incredulously, clearly expecting him to comment further on his heartfelt confession. Kristoph raises an eyebrow at him, staying silent. Klavier finally speaks, stumbling over his words slight. “T-truth or dare?”

Kristoph takes pity on him, so he smiles slightly and says, “Truth.”

“I just said…,” he pauses, then moves on; unable to repeat his confession, most likely, “What do you think of me now?”

Kristoph’s smile widens. “You are my brother, Klavier. I will accept you no matter what.” Yet another lie… he really is not fit for this game.

Klavier sighs in relief, and gives him a shaky grin. “Thank you, Kristoph. I was afraid that you would hate me.”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “The taboos of others matter to me not, Klavier. Only you do.” Klavier blushes slightly, and he turns to refill his glass of wine. Kristoph takes it as his cue to continue. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” he exclaims the second he finishes voicing the question.

Kristoph smirks, his eyes darkening as he stares intently at him. “Kiss me.”

Klavier fumbles with his glass, and it is only his lightening quick reflexes that stop the wine from being splashed all over him. He sets the glass to the side and once again stares at his brother incredulously, now even gaping in an undignified manner.

Kristoph adjusts his glasses calmly. “Stop that gaping and start using your mouth in a better way.”

He shut his mouth automatically, and then opens it again to say, “I’ve never heard you talk like that before.” Judging by his tone and face, he likes it.

“We’ve never been in this situation before, have we? Now, what are you waiting for? You’re not allowed to forfeit.” Kristoph settles back into his chair. Klavier nods, stands up, and walks over to the seated man, stopping only mere centimeters away from him. The rock star looks down at him questioningly, and Kristoph wordlessly responds by patting his leg, once – a clear invitation.

Klavier gasps, and blushes darkly – he is being unusually shy with him, even with alcohol in his system – yet he gingerly places his knees on the sides of Kristoph’s legs, essentially straddling him. Kristoph can feel him trembling, but this time from nervousness and anticipation. Klavier places his hands on Kristoph’s shoulders and lowers his head so that his lips can meet Kristoph’s softly.

Kristoph kisses back immediately, not letting the kiss stay soft for long. As their kiss intensifies, Kristoph sucks on Klavier’s bottom lip hard, making him groan in pleasure. Kristoph takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue into Klavier’s mouth, seeking out his tongue and they duel, slipping and sliding against each other. Kristoph wraps his arms around Klavier, pressing his body against his own, and Klavier digs his hands into Kristoph’s hair.

Then Klavier starts to move against him, and, perhaps a bit evilly, this is when Kristoph breaks the heated kiss. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves now,” Kristoph teases, his voice slightly deeper than before.

Klavier blushes again, and tries to move away, but Kristoph’s arms stop him. “No, you stay here,” Kristoph says, and then smiles. “Don’t you have something to ask me now?”

“Oh, ja!” He looks startled, almost as if he had forgotten the very thing that had made them kiss. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says once more, as he begins to trace random patterns on Klavier’s back.

“I need to know,” Klavier says firmly, “Who do you love?”

Kristoph traces his fingers up his back, until they reach the nape of his neck, and he runs his fingers through Klavier’s short blond hair softly. “Is it not obvious by now? It’s you, Klavier.” He is surprised by the surge of affection he feels when he says it; no, it is not love, but Klavier certainly is the only person he even remotely cares about (aside from himself, of course), and so that is enough.

Klavier grins brilliantly, and leans in for another kiss, which Kristoph gladly accepts. “Truth or dare?” Kristoph asks when he breaks the kiss.

Klavier frowns and murmurs “Truth,” before kissing Kristoph, albeit briefly.

Now, finally, the question he wants most to ask. “If I were to ask you to be with me, and only me, would you?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Of course I would, I… I love you, Kristoph.”

Kristoph smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.” As he kisses him again, he can barely stop his smirk from forming. “Say that you’re mine,” he purred against Klavier’s lips.

“I’m yours,” he says breathlessly.

Now he has Klavier exactly where he wants him, in the best way he can control him. To sweeten the deal, he moves his hands and sensuously slides them down Klavier’s chest. “Now, we can either continue playing… or we can go to my bedroom and play a different game.”

Klavier grins. Kristoph does too, but Klavier will never know the real reason why.

Apollo Justice - Everyone's Going Crazy (Or Maybe It's Just Me)

brichan@gmail.com — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 12:44:26 GMT

Title: Everyone's Going Crazy (Or Maybe It's Just Me)
Author: jetaimerai
Fandom: Apollo Justice
Pairing: Klavier/Apollo
Rating: PG-13
Original Kink Meme Prompt: I want a fic where everybody knows Klavier and Apollo are in a relationship.
...Except for Apollo.
And he is entirely too befuddled!confuzzled!bamboozled! in his adorable way. And Klavier decides to take matters into his own hands (can be literally ;D) and show Apollo just how perfect they really are for each other.
Original Thread: Here

When Trucy tilted her head and stared at him the moment he entered the Wright Anything Agency, Apollo knew something was wrong. “What is it, Trucy?” he asked, a bit exasperatedly. To be sure, he looked down at his suit and – nope, no embarrassing stains to be found.

“Where were you last night?” she finally asked, a knowing, smug grin on her lips. It looked remarkably like a smile that her ‘Daddy’ was fond of wearing.

“Eh?” Why did Trucy care? And what was with that grin? It worried Apollo. “You saw Klavier literally drag me out of the courtroom!”

She giggled at the recollection. “Yes, I did. I want to know what happened afterwards, Polly!”

Still uncomprehending why she was so interested, he sighed, clearly just humoring her. “What is there to know? He insisted that I needed to try this new Italian place, and since he offered to pay I couldn’t say no to a free meal.”

“So he asked you on a date? And paid for you? How romantic~” Trucy smiled.

Apollo suddenly grew flustered. “W-what are you talking about, it wasn’t a date!”

Trucy giggled again. “Uh huh, sure it wasn’t! And I’m not a magician!”

“Haha, very funny, but I’m serious!” So he said, though he couldn’t help but blush a little at the thought anyway. Not that he’d ever want for it to have been a date, the erroneous allegations were just embarrassing….

She smirked as she revealed Mr. Hat. “Mr. Hat, do you believe Polly?”

He seemed to reply, saying, “No, his face betrays him!”

Apollo sputtered, trying to grasp for words but failing, then finally walking past Trucy and declaring, “I’m going to do some paperwork!”, which only caused the teenager to burst into more giggles.

¤°¤°¤°¤

“Hey, Apollo, could I talk to you for a moment?” said Phoenix, smiling lazily.

Apollo looked up from the paperwork he was working on – it had been a few days since he had started, and there was still more to be done, which was mind-boggling in itself; how much work did this “agency” really do? - and relaxed, welcoming the break. “Sure.”

Phoenix sat in the chair opposite from Apollo, and they sat that way for a few seconds – Apollo was almost certain he had heard a cricket chirp during the pause – before he spoke up. “You did say you wanted to talk to me, right?”

Phoenix laughed. “Of course, I was just… trying to find a way to phrase it without you freaking out on me, but either way it will probably happen so I’ll just ask.” With those words, Apollo’s gut immediately sank; he just knew that Phoenix was going to say something that was going to embarrass the hell out of him. Phoenix leaned forward in his chair, looking earnest and concerned. “I just want to make sure that you and Klavier are being… safe.”

Apollo was puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

He sighed, looking both nostalgic and wistful. “I remember how it was when I was your age, and newly in love… sometimes passion makes you forgetful, but I need to make sure that you both are using protection! I can’t have you getting ill on my watch now.”

Apollo’s face turned as red as his favorite suit as he momentarily lost the ability to speak coherently. “Wh-wh-wh-whaaat?! B-b-b-but---,” He wasn’t sure what to dispute first, so he blurted, “We haven’t done anything!”

Phoenix looked understanding. “Ahh, I see, you two haven’t gone that far yet. Which is perfectly okay and normal! It’s good to keep things slow.”

“W-what? No, you’ve got the wrong idea--,”

“Apollo, you don’t need to get embarrassed about it! It’s actually rather sweet that you two are waiting. Just promise me that when the time comes, you’ll use protection, okay?”

“But wait, seriously, we’re not--,”

“I’m glad we’ve had this talk.” With that, Phoenix stood up from the chair and walked out of the room.

Apollo hit his head on his desk and let out a muffled scream.

¤°¤°¤°¤

When Apollo finally saw Klavier again, in the courtroom no less, he couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed after what Trucy and Phoenix had said. When Klavier met his eyes from across the room and gave him a radiant grin, he couldn’t help blush. When Apollo realized that was his reaction, he looked sharply away. What was he doing, blushing because of his smile?

Disturbed by his own reaction, he couldn’t look over at the prosecutor at all throughout the trial. Even when the rock star displayed evidence, he looked strictly at what he was holding and never at his face. A part of him knew he was being rude, but what would happen if Klavier smiled at him like that again…? He couldn’t be concerned with stuff like that during a trial!

This soon got on the judge’s nerves, as he knocked the gavel and said, “Could you two please ignore your lover’s spat for a moment? We’re in the middle of a trial here and it’s just distracting me.”

“W-what?” The statement shocked Apollo so much that he glanced towards Klavier for the first time since before the trial started, and was surprised to see how… sad he looked, which was very unusual considering how upbeat the rock star normally was. Yet he seemed to perk up slightly, just because he looked at him! Apollo’s stomach did a weird little flip at the thought.

Determined to ignore that, he turned to look at the audience only to see everyone looking – sympathetic?! Not a single person in the courtroom looked remotely surprised by the judge’s statement! But how could that be?! Everyone was going crazy, Apollo decided.

“We apologize, Your Honor,” Klavier spoke up, not even attempting to correct the judge, which was just as crazy. But if the judge really was annoyed by… whatever they were doing, then it probably wouldn’t help to argue about it. “To get back to the case…” As Klavier spoke, he flashed another one of his brilliant grins at Apollo, and on cue Apollo’s face turned crimson.

Maybe he was going crazy, too.

¤°¤°¤°¤

After the trial – Apollo managed to win, but just barely – Klavier immediately pulled him away. Annoyingly he could hear Trucy’s giggles in the distance. “Where are you going to drag me off to tonight? A Greek place?” Apollo asked, trying to act casually.

“Nope, French, though I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” they stepped outside of the courtroom, and parked right in front of them was Klavier’s magnificent bike. Apollo instinctually balked at it. “Are you still afraid of her, Herr Forehead? You’ve been on her before! You should know now that I’m always going to take care of you, ja?” He grinned as he tossed a helmet to Apollo.

The combination of his words and his smile made Apollo’s face flare up again as he fumbled with the helmet, barely catching it on time. Klavier was already sitting on the bike by the time Apollo had fastened the helmet on his head. Tentatively, Apollo sat behind him, and – purely for his own survival – slipped his arms around Klavier’s waist, tightly, because he knew Klavier liked to go fast sometimes.

As they sped off, Apollo couldn’t help but notice how warm it was to be this close to him. Even though he could feel Klavier’s firm body under his arms and against his chest, it was comfortable. He realized with a start that he liked it. A lot.

He almost let go of him, but when he realized the danger he overcompensated by pressing even closer against him.

“You okay back there, or just wanted to be closer?” Even though he couldn’t see his face, Apollo could hear the smug grin in his voice. He mumbled in reply, which just made Klavier chuckle.

He didn’t budge from his position until they had finally parked near the restaurant in question. Apollo couldn’t even say the name of the restaurant, but since Klavier had taken him here he assumed it would be good. They had been chatting inanely until they settled into their booth, and Klavier turned serious.

“What was that in the courtroom today? I’ve never seen you outright avoid me like that before. Did I do something wrong?” Klavier asked, genuinely worried.

“What?” He had been saying that a lot lately. In relation to the man in front of him, no less. Yet he didn’t expect his at all. “No, you never do anything wrong,” Apollo said, truly befuddled. How could this perfect prettyboy prosecutor-slash-rock star do anything wrong?

Klavier looked momentarily appeased by the comment. “Then… why?”

Why? Because he can’t handle that stupid, ridiculously beautiful smile being directed his way!

Suddenly Klavier’s face broke into a huge grin – just like he had described – as he laughed. Apollo blinked, confused, until he realized… he had said that out loud. Open mouth, insert foot. His face burned red again once more, babbling as he tried to explain himself.

“I didn’t realize my smile had that big of an effect on you,” Klavier said instead of acknowledging his babbling, looking incredibly pleased.

Apollo groaned. The last thing Klavier needed was to become even more vain. So he tried to change the subject. “But wasn’t it weird in the courtroom today, when the judge said we were having a lover’s spat? I mean, why do so many people think we’re together?” he laughed, quieting when he saw Klavier’s face become disappointed instead of laughing along. Apollo gulped. “…Klavier?”

Klavier shook his head, starting to smirk in amusement. “We are together, Apollo.”

Now that was the biggest shock in Apollo’s lifetime. “Wh-whaaaaaaaaat?!” Apollo knew he sometimes stumbled into things by accident, but surely even he would notice when he was in a relationship--

“Look at the facts,” Klavier said, momentarily slipping into his prosecutor mode, “You never protest every time I take you out on a date – which is often – and you always look happy to be with me. I’ve received reports from Fraulein Trucy that every time you return from one of our dates, you can’t stop smiling. Whenever I flirt, you flirt back. You have no problems whenever we’re physically close, either when on my bike or when hugging goodbye. I can’t stop smiling at you, and you can’t stop blushing whenever I do it. All signs point to a relationship, ja?”

--well, damn, it seems that he wouldn’t notice after all. He gaped at the rock star, too stunned and befuddled to know what to say.

Klavier grinned. “No objections?”

“But we haven’t even kissed!” Apollo blurted, and then immediately felt embarrassed. Yet he couldn’t control the shiver he felt as he saw Klavier’s eyes darken and his body rise from his side of the booth to move next to Apollo. He knew exactly what Klavier was going to do, but he couldn’t stop it – he didn’t want to stop it.

Still, when Klavier’s lips met Apollo’s, Apollo was still rather stunned by the whole thing to move. Klavier didn’t give up, inching closer to the attorney, and Apollo finally responded, kissing back. Klavier moved his arm behind Apollo and pulled him closer as he deepened the kiss, and Apollo discovered passion he didn’t realize he had as he fervently matched his intensity. His own arms found their way around Klavier, and moments later he opened his mouth to let Klavier’s tongue slip inside. Only when Apollo felt himself faintly moaning he decided to break off the kiss… only to then find out that he was practically in the rock star’s lap.

Even Klavier looked a little shocked at the fervor with which Apollo responded. Of course, that only made his grin even wider. “That proof enough, Herr Forehead?” he asked, slightly breathlessly.

Apollo was too shocked at himself to form words, so he just nodded.

“As much as I would love to stay in this position, I believe our food is coming soon,” Klavier gently removed himself from under Apollo. “But don’t worry, we can resume this later.” He winked suggestively.

Oh. Right. Food. He had completely forgotten about that. How could he have remembered when he just had the hottest makeout session of his life with the lead singer of the Gavinners and his rival prosecutor after discovering he had actually been in a relationship with him for at least months?

But he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Kingdom Hearts - Beautifully Broken

brichan@gmail.com — Wed, 01 Aug 2007 06:59:29 GMT

Title: Beautifully Broken
Author/Artist: jetaimerai
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Replica Riku/Naminé, Riku/Naminé, Riku/Sora implied, Riku/Naminé/Replica Riku
Word count: 1817
Summary: Everything changes when Riku's Replica returns.
A/N: Written for a springkink prompt: "Kingdom Hearts, Riku/Naminé/Riku Replica: Double penetration (doesn't matter who) - 'There was only one way to judge which one was better'"

( Beautifully Broken )

Doctor Who - Untitled

brichan@gmail.com — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 21:17:40 GMT

Pairing: Nine/Rose
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 168
A/N: Written in response to a pornandkittens post, saying that they were glad the Nine/Rose fandom was so fluffy. On that comm, that means to write the opposite. xD

The second they are alone, the Doctor roughly slams Rose against the wall. Her cry of pain is smothered by his lips crashing into hers. His hands roam her body desperately.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he demands, furious.

"I had to help her," Rose gasps, as he finds the button of her jeans.

"You are an idiot," he hisses, as he enters her. "You could've died."

Her eyes burn with passion. "I'm not sorry."

He responds with sharp, hard thrusts, glaring fiercely at her. She grabs him and digs her fingers into his back as she moves with him. "Then you're worse then I thought," he manages to pant out before kissing her again, even stronger than before. Their tongues move in time with his thrusts, and soon he comes with a wild moan.

Still panting, the anger in his eyes hasn't diminished at all. "Don't do that again."

Rose snorts as she pulls her pants back up, and follows him back to the TARDIS.

Episode Four - The Plan

brichan@gmail.com — Tue, 17 Jul 2007 08:18:52 GMT

Rating PG-13
Warnings: Mature Content
Spoilers: all of season one
Summary: They saved the cheerleader, but they only took the first step towards saving the world. What is vs2?

( The Plan )

Heroes - Love, or Something Ignites

brichan@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 07:27:32 GMT

Title: Love, or Something Ignites
Author: jetaimerai
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Rating: PG
Word Count: 460
Summary: “Now, now, Mohinder. It’s either me or the cookies,” Sylar teased.
A/N: My response to all the Sylar/Mohinder fluff lately. It’s fluff, but not. You’ll see.

Companion Piece: Can't Resist the Day

Sylar entered his apartment to a strong, sweet smell wafting through the air. He felt his smile increase with every step he took closer to the kitchen.

Mohinder was standing there, leaning against a counter, a book in his hands. He looked up at the noise and smiled when he saw Sylar. “How was your day?”

“Good, but it’ll only get better,” Sylar smirked, as he crossed the distance between them to kiss him. Mohinder dropped the book to the floor as he kissed back languidly. When their lips parted, Sylar slipped his arms around Mohinder’s waist. “What are you making?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Mohinder replied.

Sylar pouted. “Aren’t I sweet enough?”

Mohinder laughed. “Maybe, but I can’t eat you, can I?” As if on cue, the timer went off, and he moved out of Sylar’s embrace to take the cookies out of the oven. Sylar wasn’t pleased with the loss of contact, so he embraced him again, from behind this time.

“But you can taste me,” Sylar protested, and to punctuate his point, he kissed his neck and then sucked.

Mohinder’s breath hitched, and his head tilted to give him better access. “Physical hunger and sexual hunger are two different things, Sylar.”

“What are you hungry for, then?” he asked, his hot breath contrasting the wet spot on Mohinder’s neck.

He shivered. “Can I say both?”

“Now, now, Mohinder. It’s either me or the cookies,” Sylar teased, then resumed sucking his neck, making it clear which answer he wanted to hear.

Strangely, he felt Mohinder tense up under him. He waited for the geneticist to respond, but he stayed silent. Concerned, Sylar spun Mohinder around, only to see him glaring at him.

Sylar frowned. “You’re not actually upset, are you? You know that I love you.” It seemed like such an overreaction. But Mohinder’s glare didn’t waver, and he didn’t speak a word, though the spark in his eyes was communicating thousands.

Oh. Sylar knew what this was about. Every so often Mohinder acted like this. It was inexplicable.

But he knew how to fix it.

He cupped his face gently as his voice grew deep and cold. “You love me, Mohinder. Deeply. Passionately. And…,” Sylar grinned, “forever.”

The look in Mohinder’s eyes in that second was the most venomous he had ever seen from anyone. But it was gone in an instant, and replaced with a warm smile and eyes lit with affection. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Mohinder said as he embraced Sylar, “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” Sylar said breezily, “Unless you choose cookies over me.”

Mohinder’s expression grew naughty. “Cookies can wait.” He kissed Sylar, briefly but intensely; a preview of what was to come. “I love you.”

Sylar smiled. “I know.”

Episode 3 - Skeletons

brichan@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 05:04:48 GMT

Episode 2: Cages

brichan@gmail.com — Tue, 03 Jul 2007 08:12:39 GMT

( Each step takes them closer... )

p.s., expect to see a post like this every Monday until late September in this journal. :)

Heroes - Magnetic Pull

brichan@gmail.com — Thu, 17 May 2007 09:07:05 GMT

Title: Magnetic Pull
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sylar/Mohinder
Word Count: 1,285
Summary: As much as he doesn't want to, Mohinder can't resist Sylar's pull.
A/N: Spoilery for "The Hard Part" and "Landslide"

It was a long elevator ride to the roof. Along the way, Mohinder devised in his mind exactly what he wanted to say. The words were strong and menacing.

When the metal doors opened and he walked out, all those words evaporated. On the other side of the roof was a tall figure, clad in black, facing away from him. Even at this distance, Mohinder knew exactly who he was. Sylar.

Against his better judgment, he slowly approached the man. He knew that he should’ve just turned around and left, should’ve never come in the first place, but Sylar was a magnet, and he couldn’t fight his pull. The only noise came from his footsteps and the faint bustle of cars stories below.

“Mohinder. What a surprise,” he said suddenly, turning to face him. The abrupt sound unsettled Mohinder more than he would ever admit, though Sylar could tell because he was smirking at him. “Did you come to stop me? You must know that you’ll fail,” he said, taking glee in taunting him.

“I—,” he began, then stopped. What was he here for? “Are you seriously planning on exploding?” he asked instead.

Sylar grinned. “It’s a part of my destiny. I can feel it.”

Mohinder’s heart seemed to drop to his stomach. He suddenly recalled that desperate, anguished phone call he had received. “Then the phone call…,” he trailed off, mentally adding, “was a lie” to the end. Another lie. He kept falling for them, kept wanting to believe… but why?

His smirk only seemed to widen. “That was before I realized my destiny.”

There was that word again. Destiny. It was making Mohinder sick. He couldn’t stop thinking, though. “What if” scenarios were racing through his mind. “If I had helped you when you called…,” he faltered, wishing that he had just kept his mouth shut but he still wanted to know, “Would you still be doing this?”

Sylar seemed to ponder this while staring intently at him. His lips then curled into a smirk, but it wasn’t like his other ones – this one was smooth, and sensual, and Mohinder gulped without realizing it.

He stepped forward, invading his personal space. “You want me to say no, don’t you?” He raised his hand to touch his face. Mohinder flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “You want to be able to save me.” His fingers softly ran down his cheek, and Mohinder’s breath hitched. He leaned in, so that his mouth was hovering over Mohinder’s ear. His breath was hot against it. “Maybe you could’ve.”

Mohinder could almost hear his own heartbeat, so it must’ve been like a siren to Sylar. His breath was growing shallow and – dammit, he wasn’t supposed to be so turned on by this simple contact. This was so wrong, he thought. His mind kept chanting that, even as he turned his head to face him (to stop feeling his breath on his ear, he told himself). Their lips were scant inches apart. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and then Sylar kissed him.

Later, Mohinder wished that he had pulled away in disgust. Instead, he had immediately returned the kiss, almost feverishly. His lips were softer than he (thought, fantasized) would’ve guessed. Their stubble rubbed against their skin, but the scratchiness only heightened the pleasure. There was no gentleness between them; Sylar bit down on Mohinder’s lower lip and he gasped against his mouth. It still stung when Sylar snaked his tongue between parted lips.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, those were only words now, with no meaning.

As tongues slid against each other, Mohinder wrapped his arms around Sylar’s torso, pulling the lithe body against his, and he marveled that someone as cold as Sylar could feel so warm. Their tongues were now in a battle for dominance, a battle that Mohinder was destined to lose, but it was too arousing for him to care. Sylar’s hands were moving all over his body, and through his clothes, his touch burned his skin.

Suddenly, Sylar retreated, and even before Mohinder could whimper at the loss, his mouth was wet and hot against his throat. He sucked hard enough to bruise, and Mohinder let out a moan, his fingers digging into Sylar’s back.

“Mmm, you’re vocal,” Sylar murmured against his neck, “I wonder, how vocal are you in bed?”

His words brought Mohinder back to reality. Bed. Sylar. Wrong. He tried to step away, but Sylar grabbed his hips and kept him still. He stood up fully and pouted, though the emotion behind it was false. “What? You’re suddenly not interested? You’re such a cocktease, Mohinder,” he drawled.

Mohinder glared at him, as icily as he could, to disguise the residual heat in his body. “That was a temporary loss of sanity,” he said, in a cold detached voice, “It was disgusting.” Maybe if he said it aloud, he could believe it.

Sylar saw right through it. “Disgusting? Really? I think your body contradicts you,” he said, and to prove his point, he shifted his knee up slightly against the growing bulge in his pants. Pleasure rushed through him, and he groaned throatily. He bit his lip to try to stop it but that failed. At Sylar’s responding chuckle, a flood of hatred filled Mohinder, but it wasn’t enough to quell his lust for the serial killer.

“Face it, Mohinder. You want me. You want to save me.” One of Sylar’s hands started sliding up Mohinder’s shirt. “But it’s too late. You can’t save me.” He leaned in to whisper, “I don’t need to be saved.” He pinched his nipple. Mohinder hissed sharply, and Sylar smiled. He then let go of Mohinder and stepped away. “So go.”

Mohinder stared blankly for a moment, puzzled by the change. Then he grew angry. “And just let you explode? I think not!”

Sylar laughed. “And how do you plan on stopping me? Leave, Mohinder. Go somewhere far from here, so you won’t get caught in it.”

That sounded somewhat like kindness, which was immediately suspicious. Mohinder had to ask, “Why?”

Sylar raised an eyebrow. “I don’t actually want you dead. But apparently, you do.”

Mohinder tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach in response to this sentiment. The last thing Mohinder needed was to think that Sylar actually cared for him. “And if I stayed?”

Sylar laughed again. “Oh, did you think that you had a choice?” He demonstrated this by lifting him up in the air with telekinesis. “It’s just easier if you go willingly.”

Mohinder was not a fan of heights, especially after the last time Sylar had levitated him. The thought of being levitated to a far distance disturbed him. “Fine, I’ll go!” he declared

He tilted his head and considered that. “No, I don’t trust you,” Sylar decided. “But before you go….” He lowered Mohinder and kissed him again. This kiss was different than the other one, however. It was softer, gentler, and Mohinder couldn’t help but respond to it. He knew that it meant something, though it would be dangerous for Mohinder to try to figure it out.

Sylar broke it and said, “Hope you like New Jersey.” Then Mohinder was up, high in the air, flying away at a high speed. It was utterly frightening for him, yet he kept his eyes open out of fascination. A few minutes later, he was landed gently in a place that he didn’t recognize at all.

He mentally cursed at Sylar, in every language he could think of, and then some he made up. Once he calmed down, he reflected on the kiss. Of course it was dangerous, mentally, emotionally. But Mohinder was attracted to danger, and Sylar was the most potent magnet.

Ouran Koukou Host Club - Statuesque

brichan@gmail.com — Thu, 17 May 2007 08:52:12 GMT

Title: Statuesque
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: none
Word count: 506
Summary: Everyone who knew him thought he was static and cold, like a statue, hard to the touch.
A/N: For springkink, April 22. Prompt: Ouran High School Host Club, Kyouya/Tamaki: Licking - "sensitivity"

( Statuesque )

Good Omens - Breaking the Rules

brichan@gmail.com — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 02:30:29 GMT

Title: Breaking the Rules
Rating: R
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Genres: humor, drabble
Summary: Aziraphale doesn't think it's a good idea. Crowley does.
Note: Blame pornandkittens for this.

"This is not a good idea," Aziraphale said, stating the obvious.

He and Crowley were currently in a library, but they weren't doing anything innocent, like reading. No, Crowley had Aziraphale pressed against a bookcase - a bookcase filled with Christian books; Crowley loved irony - and was sucking at his neck like he was a vampire. Which, Crowley considered, he almost could be, if he wanted to.

He rolled his eyes at the statement, and stopped for a moment to say, "This is a good idea," and to prove his point, he slipped his hand under Aziraphale's shirt to rub a nipple.

The angel gasped loudly, then bit his lip. "I have to stay quiet," he said, for Aziraphale liked rules, and that was one of the library's rules.

Crowley rose his eyebrow, taking the remark as a personal challenge. For a few moments, he kept circling his nipple, lulling the angel into a false sense of security. When his head fell back and his eyes closed, Crowley made his move.

The two didn't naturally have any naughty bits, but they were so used to making them exist that it felt natural. So Crowley took delight in rubbing his other hand hard against the arousal in the angel's trousers.

The resulting moan was loud, and music to Crowley's ears.

Aziraphale glared at him then, with all the hatred he could muster, which wasn't a lot, to be frank. He looked more like a wronged puppy than anything, but he gave him an A+ for effort. Crowley grinned back, naturally, and he continued rubbing.

Aziraphale's anger and indignation faded away soon afterwards. Crowley prided himself on a job well done.

Hannibal Rising - À La Cuisine

brichan@gmail.com — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 23:12:00 GMT

Title: À La Cuisine
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hannibal/Murasaki
Summary: She had been cutting some vegetables when the knife seemed to swerve on its own volition to slice her hand.

She had been cutting some vegetables when the knife seemed to swerve on its own volition to slice her hand. She let out a shocked, pained gasp in reflex, which caused him to come rushing inside.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice dripping with concern.

She nodded, and raised her hand for him to see the short, thin cut, where blood had welled up. The red beckoned him to come closer, and he gently took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He slowly licked up the cut, gathering all the blood on his tongue. The sweet, metallic taste seeped in, and he found the taste to be intoxicating. He lapped up the blood until it stopped welling up. He looked up at her and smiled.

Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her mouth slightly open, and he leaned in to kiss her softly. She could taste her blood on his lips but she didn’t pull away, she couldn’t, not with him entering her mouth and vigorously exploring it. He focused on the taste as he swirled his tongue around hers, and around the walls of her mouth. There was the light taste of green tea, but it was mostly her natural, somewhat salty taste. It was good, almost as good as her blood.

She tasted good enough to eat.

KH/TotA Crossover - The Birth of a Replica

brichan@gmail.com — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 01:54:57 GMT

Title: The Birth of a Replica
Fandoms: Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories and Tales of the Abyss
Rating: G
Characters: Vexen, Van
Word Count: 604
Spoilers: KH:CoM - none, TotA - Isle of Feres
Summary: Vexen tracks down Van, and they have a conversation.

Vexen had files on every planet that existed in their realm. It was necessary for Organization XIII to keep track of all of them, in case anything of interest to them occurred.

Vexen had been assigned for that task, and it was menial. Rarely did anything interesting ever occur. But suddenly, a lot of commotion was coming from one source – a planet called Auldrant.

He received permission from the Superior to take a short leave from Castle Oblivion to investigate. Vexen had a strong scientific desire to learn more about the planet, ever since he heard of a mysterious substance called “fonons”, so he was pleased to finally have a real reason to visit.

To his amazement, he discovered that the planet was becoming overrun with replicas. He found them to be fascinating. How could one replicate a living being? He knew right away that this technology would be a great resource for Organization XIII, so he searched – talking to replicas and normal people alike – for the creator of these beings.

He tracked him down to the floating land, Eldrant – which was a replica itself; this technology was astounding. To the residents of Auldrant, it was currently impossible to breach its barriers, but to a Nobody like Vexen, it was nothing. A dark portal was all it took for him to get inside, to the very heart of the land. He found whom he suspected to be the creator easily; he was currently by himself, playing a haunting melody on his grand piano.

“Are you Commandant Van Grants?” Vexen asked, cutting to the chase.

The song ended abruptly as Van stood and turned to face the intruder. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Van demanded, his body tense, ready to attack at any moment.

“I have no intention of fighting you,” Vexen informed him briskly, “I am Vexen, and how I got here is of no importance. Will you answer my question?”

Van wasn’t comforted by his statements; after all, no one was supposed to have been able to enter his fortress, yet here he was. “I am he,” he answered roughly, “Why are you here?”

“I have deduced that you are responsible for the recent abundance in replicas. I am interested in the replication process, so I have come here to hopefully glean your knowledge.” Politeness and a slightly revering tone have proved useful to Vexen in the past for getting what he wanted, so he didn’t hesitate to use them.

Van narrowed his eyes. His suspicion was still strong. “Why should I tell you anything? For all I know, you could use it against me.”

Vexen replied, “Almost everyone on this planet is against fomicry. However, I am not one of them. I find it fascinating and would love to support you in your plans.” He honestly didn’t plan on staying too long, or really helping him, but Vexen had no qualms with lying.

Loyalty must have been one of Van’s weaknesses, for the suspicion in his gaze quickly faded. “This planet has become poisoned by the Score,” he began with conviction, “The only way to cure it is to replace everyone with replicas, free from the Score!”

Vexen couldn’t care less about the plight of this planet, but he firmly nodded along with him. “Of course, I completely agree.” Meanwhile, his mind was racing. Van wanted to create more replicas. This really could prove useful. “In fact, there is someone I want to replicate. Would you let me?”

After a pause, Van gave him a nod. Vexen’s lips curled into an unholy smile. Oh, he had a plan.

Kingdom Hearts - Such a Pretty Girl

brichan@gmail.com — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 19:50:26 GMT

Title: Such a Pretty Girl
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Warnings: non-con, crossdressing, bondage, a little violence
Pairing: Axel/Roxas
Word Count: 1830ish
Summary: Axel discovers a new fetish: a furious, resisting Roxas clad in cute girl clothing.

( Such a Pretty Girl )

Tales of the Abyss - Dreaming of Pink

brichan@gmail.com — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 07:20:56 GMT

Title: Dreaming of Pink
Author: Bri, jetaimerai
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Guy, Luke and Asch
Pairing(s): Guy/Luke, Guy/Asch
Genre: crack ♥
Spoilers: For Guy's real name
Summary: Guy was just reading his favorite magazine when two familiar faces show up wearing something quite unusual...
Notes: Inspired by ambiance and art she linked me to. xD

As Guy was looking over the latest issue of Fon Machine Digest, he heard brief, hesitant knocks against his door. Not looking up from his beloved magazine, he muttered a “Come in,” and the door clicked open slowly, and he heard one, two steps inside.

A few seconds passed in complete silence until Guy finally managed to tear his eyes away from the cover story about the latest model of a landship and looked up to his visitor.

Luke was standing there in a light pink dress, with long sleeves and a high collar with an amethyst attached to it. Tied around his waist was a thick white bow, and attached to that was an apron. Both the white apron and the pink dress ended in frills and lace. There was a matching headpiece sitting on his head.

Luke’s cheeks were flushed, almost the color of the dress he was wearing. “I’ll be your maid for today, Master Gailardia.”

Guy gaped, uncomprehending. What was going on here…? He heard a rustle and a snort from behind Luke, and he lifted his gaze to see an identical apparition. Wait, no. Not completely identical.

“A-Asch too?!” The boy blushed furiously at that and glared at the floor, while giving him a sharp, almost imperceptible nod.

Here he was, with two incredibly cute redheaded boys wanting to be his maids for a day. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with them. Images rapidly fired across his mind, all of them very naughty indeed.

“Alright, Luke, Asch,” Guy started, raising his hand to wipe the blood which had started to trickle out of his nose, “My first order for you two is…”

Guy’s eyes shot open, and to his dismay there were no maids waiting for him. He looked down his bed to find that it had been a wet dream, the first one he’s had in years.

His first thoughts were not ones of shame, or embarrassment. Oh no. They went something like this:

Dammit, if only that dream had lasted a little longer…

The OC - Something To Sleep To

brichan@gmail.com — Sun, 14 Jan 2007 00:58:33 GMT

Title: Something To Sleep To
Disclaimer: I don’t own The OC… if I did, it would be much gayer than it already is.
Pairing: Ryan/Taylor, one-sided Ryan/Seth
Rating: PG
Word count: 1165
Original Request: Ryan/Taylor futurefic would also be cool, with past connotations towards Ryan/Seth
Summary: When Ryan goes to UC Berkeley with Taylor, he finds himself missing Seth.
Authors Note: I was hit with strong writer’s block, so this is not my best work. I hope you like it anyway!

( Something To Sleep To )

Kyou Kara Maou Drabble

brichan@gmail.com — Fri, 29 Dec 2006 08:40:37 GMT

Title: none
Genre: fluff
Pairing: Murata/Yuuri
Summary: Yuuri has an unexpected encounter with Murata.
Notes: 100 word drabble written for ambiance. :)

Yuuri had been walking down a castle corridor, minding his own business when something pushed him forward a bit. Yuuri was about to make an annoyed sound when arms encircled his torso and warmth pressed up against his back. Yuuri slowly turned his head.

“Murata…?” he asked in a whisper, and in response his arms tightened around him, bringing him even closer to Murata.

He leaned in towards his ear to say, “Don’t say anything, Shibuya.”

Yuuri obeyed, as he smiled and closed his eyes. For once, he didn’t have anything to say, for things were perfect as they were.

Ouran Koukou Host Club - La Jalousie

brichan@gmail.com — Mon, 18 Dec 2006 01:06:14 GMT

Title: La Jalousie
Genre: fluffy humor
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: G
Summary: Kyouya was not one to be jealous. So those feelings of nausea in his stomach? Simply indigestion.
Dedication: For ambiance. Merry Christmas~! ♥

Kyouya was not the jealous type, not at all. Jealousy was a useless, inefficient emotion, and Kyouya was only invested in things that were useful.

So that nauseating feeling settling in the pit of his stomach when he saw Tamaki being more flirtatious than usual was only due to indigestion, really. He knew he shouldn’t have accepted the slice of cake Honey-sempai offered him.

Tamaki’s flirtations were always grandiose, always ridiculously romantic, but he never kept his attentions on a single girl for too long; that is how he accumulated such a vast following, after all.

So what was different about this girl? She had dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin and a tiny waist, but most of them did. She was more developed than most of the girls in the room, but he knew that Tamaki wasn’t that shallow. Wasn’t he?

Kyouya closely scrutinized the girl’s behaviors. She squealed and giggled just like the others. There was nothing special about her at all. So why was Tamaki giving her so much attention?

Tamaki shifted closer to her, and tenderly took her hand into his. He stared lovingly into the girl’s eyes. “Seeing your beautiful face brings the warmth into my cold world, the light into my dark universe…”

The girl took in a high-pitched breath, her eyes watery with joy. “Oh, Tamaki…” she gushed as she leaned towards Tamaki, almost as if she were about to initiate a kiss.

Before he had known it, he was up on his feet on a fast course towards Tamaki and that girl. He stood and loomed over them imposingly. “While I hate to intrude, Tamaki, there are other customers who are requesting your presence.” This was, in fact, the truth; however, it wasn’t imperative for Tamaki to see them right away.

Tamaki glanced up briefly and nodded graciously, and then returned his full attention on the girl. “While I must attend to my duties as a host, I will be anxiously awaiting our reunion.” He lifted her hand to his lips, and she sighed adoringly.

She was about to reply when Kyouya interrupted with an extremely terse order, “Tamaki, our customers cannot be kept waiting any longer.”

“Ahh! Of course, I am very sorry!” Tamaki exclaimed as he let go of the girl’s hand and stood up. “Goodbye for now, Minako-chan.” He bowed, and then Kyouya roughly took his arm and led him away from her.

Once they were out of her earshot, Kyouya admonished him. “You know that we have many customers everyday. You should not spend so much time with one customer; it is unfair to the rest of them.”

Tamaki laughed nervously, raising one arm to cup the back of his head in his hand. “Maa, I’m really sorry Kyouya, but I—”

“No excuses.” The last thing Kyouya wanted to hear was some diatribe about how wonderful the girl was – not because he was jealous, but because his stomachache had seemed to grow stronger, and he wasn’t in the mood.

Before Tamaki could protest, they stopped in front of a group of girls, who all squealed in delight when they saw Tamaki. “Be sure to treat them equally,” Kyouya reminded, then pivoted on his heel and sauntered away. Now that he was with a group, he had no reason to worry about it anymore.

…Not that Kyouya was personally worried about it, of course; all he cared about was the profits the Host Club brought in, and too much individual focus would hurt that. That’s all.

As Kyouya returned to his work, Haruhi, who had been surreptitiously watching the whole ordeal, widened her eyes as she came to a conclusion. She slowly approached Kyouya, and before she could even speak, he spoke first, “Is there anything you need, Fujioka?”

“Not really,” she answered nervously, then looked over to where Tamaki sat amongst a flock of adoring ladies, “Tamaki seemed to be really cozy with that one girl,” she commented, trying to make it sound as innocent as possible.

Kyouya’s grip on his pen tightened. “He is cozy with many ladies, what is your point Fujioka?”

She was quick to cut to the chase. “I just think that before you jump to conclusions, you should ask him about it first. After all, if you knew the cause, then you could find a way to stop it, right?” Kyouya gave her a sharp glare, and she gulped as she added, “For the sake of the Host Club profits, of course.”

Kyouya’s stare froze as he said, “Thank you for your suggestion, Fujioka. You may leave now.” She took the hint and scurried away, as Kyouya scowled. If his jealousy – no, his irritability thanks to his indigestion – was that noticeable, then there was a serious problem, and he needed to address it soon.

When all the customers had left and they had cleaned the room, everyone was preparing to leave. Kyouya decided he needed to get this done now, so as Tamaki was twirling away – which could only be explained by some fit of fancy of his, he assumed – Kyouya tapped his arm and said, “We have something to discuss. Everyone else can leave.”

That announcement immediately caught everyone’s attention. No one budged from their places, all curious to what they would talk about. Kyouya sent them all an icy glare, followed by a sinister glint off his glasses, and they all started shivering as they dashed out of the room.

Tamaki seemed oblivious to Kyouya’s scare tactics as he beamed up to him. “What do we have to talk about?”

“I must stress how important it is to dote on our customers equally,” Kyouya rebuked.

Tamaki blinked once, twice. “You’re still upset about that? I won’t do it again, I promise,” he said as he tried to put an arm around Kyouya. Since Kyouya still wasn’t satisfied, he evaded the maneuver.

Kyouya adjusted his glasses calmly. “But why did you do it?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” he exclaimed, and Kyouya braced himself for a headache, “She kept it a very good secret, but she’s actually the daughter of a very wealthy CEO, and I thought if I was more friendly to her it would help you, Kyouya!”

Kyouya stared. He didn’t know whether to be relieved that his suspicions were wrong, or to be horrified that he didn’t know the girl’s identity. In any case, his indigestion seemed to evaporate instantly.

Tamaki took advantage of Kyouya’s silence by stepping closer, almost close enough to touch. “You should know that I only like you.” He smiled.

That was very simple. No exaggerations, no frills or lace. Just simple and to the point.

That was how Kyouya knew Tamaki was being truly sincere.

Kyouya nodded, with the faintest ghost of a smile on his face. As Tamaki leaned forward, a burst of feelings exploded in his stomach, but it wasn’t indigestion – no, this was very different. He was confident of this as he met him halfway, sealing the kiss.

No, Kyouya wasn’t the jealous type at all. Because he didn’t need to be.

Heroes - Your Canvas

brichan@gmail.com — Sat, 16 Dec 2006 12:34:40 GMT

Title: Your Canvas
Genre: complete and utter FLUFF
Pairing: Peter/Isaac
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “I want you to paint on me,” Peter said, sprawled across Isaac’s bed, nude yet completely relaxed.
Dedication: Written for hauntedreality. Merry Christmas, and I hope you like it! ♥
Notes: This is heavily influenced by the film The Pillowbook. xD And "unmei" means destiny, and "ai" means love in Japanese.

“I want you to paint on me,” Peter said, sprawled across Isaac’s bed, nude yet completely relaxed.

Isaac stared, uncertain if he heard correctly. “Are you serious?”

“Utterly,” he clarified as he leaned closer to the artist. He grasped the hand that had been idly sitting in Isaac’s lap and placed it against his own heart. His eyes darkened with desire as he whispered, “Use my body as your canvas.”

The intensity of his gaze enraptured him as Isaac considered his proposal. It was almost like temptation, except that resistance was not an option. Somehow, he immediately knew what he wanted to paint. “When I get back, I want you to be lying on your stomach.”

The delighted grin that lit up Peter’s face made his heart clench, and he bridged the gap between them for a brief yet loving kiss. Isaac slowly broke the kiss, feeling reluctant to part him, but he stood up and dashed into his studio to pick up his supplies. He didn’t need too much: just a few shades of white and black, along with some different sized brushes and water. When he returned, Peter had followed his order; he was now on his stomach, his arms crossed beneath his head. His smile brightened as Isaac walked closer.

“You’ll have to stay completely still,” Isaac warned as he climbed onto the bed.

“I am perfectly capable of that,” Peter replied confidently.

Isaac smirked. “If you say so,” he said as he gently straddled Peter’s ass. Peter took in a sharp breath. “Relax,” he murmured, and Peter let out a pleased sigh as Isaac ran his hands up and down the smooth expanse of his back.

Once Peter was fully calm, Isaac wet a brush, dipped it in paint, and drew the first stroke on his back. The paint and wetness was cold at first, but the softness of the brush and its glide across his skin provided a pleasurable sensation. Peter closed his eyes and focused only on the brushstrokes, which were slow and careful; each felt like a gentle, loving caress.

The only sounds in the room were the occasional splash of water and their breathing, which had synchronized to each other. Words were unnecessary as Isaac painted. The passage of time went unnoticed, and they didn’t know how many hours had gone by.

Peter had been close to falling asleep, a testament to how comforting and relaxing it felt, when Isaac finally declared, “It’s finished.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open as excitement rushed through him. He started to push himself up, but Isaac pushed him back down. “Hold on, give the paint a little time to dry first.” Peter made an impatient noise but acquiesced.

When he felt Isaac’s warm pressure disappear, Peter almost whimpered in protest. Isaac slid off the bed and said, “Now you can get up, but be careful.” Peter gingerly sat up and slid off the bed. Isaac grasped his hand as he led him into the bathroom. He let his hand go when he flicked on the light.

Peter stood, his back facing the mirror, and turned his head to gaze at his back. At the first glance, he gasped. Painted on his back were two majestic white angel wings. The wings took up his entire back, and the feathers were meticulously detailed.

“Now you can fly without your brother,” Isaac said quietly.

Peter gulped as a strong swell of love rose in him. He turned his attention away from the mirror and back to Isaac. “Isaac… I…” He struggled to find something to say, something to convey how much this meant to him.

Isaac smiled as another idea struck him. “Wait, I’m not quite finished yet.” He stepped closer to Peter and took his left hand. He picked up the brush he left on the counter and drew a quick succession of strokes in black paint. Hiro had taught him some kanji, and Isaac found the symbols to be very beautiful; he felt it would be only more beautiful on Peter.

“Unmei,” he whispered, “For how we were brought together.” He let go of the hand and picked up the other one. He drew a different pattern of strokes on this hand. “Ai, for what we have together.”

Peter’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Instead of saying anything – not that he could adequately express the intensity of his emotions with words – he expressed his feelings through an explosively passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of love into it, and Isaac returned it with equal measure.

He had used this canvas, Peter’s beautiful body, to convey all his love for him – and it was a masterpiece.

FuRaNo - Rêves En Noir

brichan@gmail.com — Sun, 02 Jul 2006 06:19:55 GMT

Decided to go the original route after all. >> I'm fickle. xD Title means "Dream in Black". This is also my official icon for this series. It actually matches fairly well, haha.

Somewhere, the oblivion of a boy’s slumber was broken by the beginnings of a dream. This boy usually dreamed of knights, castles and dragons, relics of a childhood shortly past. This dream started out on the same vein.

Kyle found himself geared up in big, bulky armor, staring up at a dark castle that loomed over him, just ahead. He took a step closer to it, and suddenly a burst of flames erupted on one of its tall towers. Fire! That could mean only one thing – the castle was under attack by a dragon, and he needed to save the princess!

He took off in a sprint, the usual sprain of the action in his thighs missing, a sign of his dream world. He was as quick as a lightning bolt – he needed to save her, the laws of physics be damned! Not that there were any laws to be broken in this realm.

He was just crossing the moat to enter the castle when he heard the reverberating roar of the dragon, and he glanced upward to see the hulking, heaving beast clinging to the towers, smoke trailing out of its nostrils. The beast’s black coat matched the inky ebony of the night sky. The lucent yellow orbs that stared down at him matched the glow of the faint stars decorating the night.

At this time of day, the dragon would be a fierce opponent. But that didn’t bother Kyle in the slightest, having been filled with a preternatural calm. He brandished his sword, the blade glinting in the moonlight. The sudden light caught the dragon’s attention, and it snarled, smoke rushing out of its nostrils in a thick cloud. Its claws unclenched its hold in the castle, debris trickling down the roof. It suddenly jumped away from the building, the momentum creating even more damage, and many rocks flew out in all directions.

Instinctively, he dropped to the ground and rolled away to avoid most of the rocks, though a few hit and then ricocheted off his armor. He waited a moment, listening intently for any noise, and was startled when he suddenly felt heat above him. He rolled away from the heat and looked up to see that the dragon had landed right beside him, snarling.

Thanking his luck that the dragon had yet to attack, he jumped to his feet, sword at the ready. Those eyes seemed to flash in anger, and the dragon moved, its front limb suddenly flying up in his direction. Quickly, he defended himself by swiping his sword up, and the blade cut through one of its claws, causing the beast to howl in pain. Kyle smirked, and used the moment of weakness to charge up to the dragon. It growled at him, sending a fireball in his direction, and he evaded it swiftly, the fire slightly singing his armor. The attack didn’t stop him; rather, he quickened his pace, ready to plunge his sword into the dragon’s heart, but the beast was smarter than that, and the uninjured limb rose to throw him away.

The momentum of the strike sent Kyle flying, and he watched as his surroundings blurred together until he hit the ground with a resounding clang, thanks to his armor. The attack had shaken him a bit, but this was no time to give up. His beautiful princess needed rescuing!

He jumped up again and charged rashly. The dragon sat there for a second, looking bored with the attacking knight, before seeming to give a sigh, the smoke trickling out thinly. “Who said she was yours?” it suddenly spoke, its voice harsh and deep.

Kyle stopped in mid-movement, staring at the dragon, bewildered. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that the dragon had never spoken before in his dreams. And what a preposterous question! “What are you talking about? The knight who saves her always becomes her husband,” he informed, as if it were obvious.

The dragon gave out a strange choking sound, and – was it smirking? “Always? Who says that the princess wants to get married?” Kyle had a hard time processing this. Why wouldn’t she want to get married? “Maybe she doesn’t want marriage. Maybe she just wants a nice, hard fuck,” the beast drawled.

Kyle’s eyes widened, and he saw red. How dare this – this monstrosity – talk about the princess like that! “How dare you defile the princess’ name!” he shouted, furious, as the dragon unleashed a torrent of laughter.

“Are you so sure that you’re right about her?” it taunted, “Go and check on her yourself.”

The red that was clouding his vision intensified. “What did you do to her?” he asked, enraged and horrified. All he received in reply was a dangerous smirk, which shook him to his very core. Something really wrong had happened!

Caring little about the dragon, he bolted to the castle and rushed up the long flight of stairs in the castle’s tallest tower. The princess was always found at the top. In previous dreams, he ran, but not nearly as quickly as he was running then, as he hoped nothing had happened to his love. He finally reached the door, and he held his breath as he stepped inside.

There was no visible damage – the whole room was pristine, decorated with white lace. Near the window was a large bed with a gauzy canopy, and an unmistakable dark shape lied on it. He let out his breath slowly. The princess was safe.

He took careful steps toward her, not wanting to startle the gentle maiden. When he reached her bed, he took a moment to simply take in her lovely appearance. The princess of his previous dreams always had long, golden locks, trailing over her supple breasts to end at her tiny waist. She had had the fairest skin, almost matching her surroundings.

This princess was undeniably different. Her hair was short, cropped around her face, and as dark as the night. Her sun kissed skin contrasted with the white sheets. Lastly, he noticed with some disappointment, she was flat-chested and had a very small waist-to-hip curve.

But still. A princess was a princess. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder to wake her up. “Princess? It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he murmured to her.

Vivid green eyes immediately snapped open and locked on his, giving him an intense stare. “But are you?” she purred, with a voice too deep to belong to a lady.

Kyle stumbled back in shock. “You’re- you’re not the princess,” he stuttered, suddenly feeling scared. He stepped backwards slowly, but the princess caught his movement and stood up, gliding to him and slipping her arms around him, halting his flight.

“You’re right,” she whispered, then pulled Kyle flush against her body and thrust her hips into his, the unfeminine lump he felt there immediately proving that the princess was no female, “I’m the prince.”

Kyle froze in horror. “The prince? But – this is wrong!” The prince thrust against him again, and Kyle tried desperately to kill the pleasure that flowed through him from the contact.

“Right, wrong, those are just concepts,” the prince hissed, leaning in to lick his earlobe, “There’s only pleasure and pain.” He punctuated this by sucking the earlobe, making Kyle gasp.

“No,” he breathed out, “God says it’s wrong,” he protested desperately, as his body betrayed him. He wanted to bolt, but his feet felt glued to the floor.

“Silly,” the prince said, moving from his ear to gaze directly into Kyle’s eyes, “There’s no God here.” Before Kyle could counter, the prince covered his lips with his own. For a moment, he refused to respond to the warmth pressing against him, but at the wet tongue darting out to lick his lips he sighed and gave in, pressing back. The prince purred, happy that he had given in so quickly, and sucked languidly on his lower lip. At a nip, Kyle parted his lips, and the prince snaked his tongue inside his mouth, where it slithered against Kyle’s tongue.

After a long intricate dance by their tongues, the prince relinquished his control over Kyle’s mouth and body, stepping back. He smirked when Kyle made no move to run away, just staring at him expectantly. His eyes traveled over Kyle’s bulky armor, and shook his head. “That armor has got to go,” he muttered, snapping his fingers.

Instantly, Kyle was completely nude. That shook him out of his trance. “What--! Hey--!”

“Don’t worry, you’re not alone,” the prince drawled, and snapped his fingers again. This time, the prince was completely nude, and Kyle couldn’t help but look at his body. It was lean enough to be mistaken for a skinny girl, but there was definite musculature on his abdomen, which had been obscured by the dress he had been wearing. His penis twitched in approval. “C’mon,” he beckoned, moving to lie down on the bed. Kyle was powerless to resist, as he crawled on top of the man.

“What do you want me to do?” Kyle asked nervously, as the feeling of doing something completely wrong still plagued him in the back of his mind.

The prince’s mouth curled into a hungry grin. “Simple. I want a nice, hard fuck,” he demonstrated by thrusting his hard penis up against Kyle’s, creating delicious friction. Kyle moved back against it, emitting an erotic cry. “Remember, I am no girl.”

“I can tell,” Kyle murmured, and the prince chuckled

“Good. So what are you waiting for? Fuck me. Or are you not man enough?” he baited, and Kyle took it, growling. He wasted no time in thrusting into the prince’s tight warmth, the dream world erasing any pain. The feeling was… incredible, and he developed a steady rhythm, as the prince writhed enticingly underneath him. He increased his pace as he felt himself approaching orgasm. “Do you really want me?” the prince asked breathlessly, suddenly.

Kyle slowed down a second in surprise. What a preposterous question! “Of course I do,” he gasped, as if it was obvious.

The prince’s grin changed into a decidedly unholy one. It spoke of dark, evil things, and Kyle became frightened. He should stop this, he should-- “Good,” the prince purred, and tightened against Kyle. The added pressure was enough to distract him, a few more thrusts sent him over the edge, and he was drowning, drowning in pleasure…

…drowning in sweat and unpleasant stickiness as the boy awoke in a dark room, his sheets soiled with his seed. Drowning in shame and horror, as he realized just what he dreamed about.

In another place, vibrant green eyes glowed in predatory triumph in the midst of the dark inferno.

Today's Count: 1785
Total Count: 1785

purely an outline of sorts

brichan@gmail.com — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 02:24:19 GMT

Hell isn’t ruled by one devil – it’s ruled by 7. Each Devil represents a Deadly Sin, and they each control a special type of demon related to that sin. These demons’ jobs were to go and corrupt human beings. However, since demons can’t actually exist in the human world, they attack in dreams. They enter the Dreamscape, find an unsuspecting mind, and create a dream that reflects that sin. During the course of the dream, the “seed of sin” is planted in their subconscious, and will slowly bloom and consume the human, damning them to hell. (Virtuous humans can fight it off successfully, but they’re rare).

When humans enter Hell, they don’t become demons – they’re just souls subject to the sadistic whims of the Devils and demons. There is a way for a soul to enter the world of the living and live again – but the passage is heavily guarded by Cerberus.

The Devil Lust has two types of demons – incubi and succubi, which sexually prey on females and males, respectively. Enter X. (What? I don’t have names yet. xD) X is an eccentric succubus. Lust’s demons are willing to shift between genders, but X doesn’t like to – he prefers his male form, and hates being a female. Also, unlike the others, he isn’t content with simply doing his job, even though he loves it. He has the great desire to see how real life sex feels like. This desire consumes him so much that he’s willing to actually try to exist in the real world, though he thinks it’s impossible. The Devils harshly punish this kind of behavior – the punishment is Oblivion, not existing at all. Still, something inside him burns, so he tries it.

His only problem is Cerberus. He doesn’t have the power to fight Cerberus. Something inside him tells him to play music, and it works. He steps through the Threshold of Hell, and enters the real world… unscathed. He is able to assume an incredibly beautiful twenty-something human form. He’s ecstatic, so he goes off to find sexual partners.

Enter Y. Y is a 16-year-old altar boy who was one of X’s old victims. The memory of the dream is still vivid in his mind, since it haunts him. He tries his hardest to fight the impulses he now has because of the seed. He recognizes X, and is frightened and intrigued. He keeps seeing X around town, until his curiosity overtakes him and he approaches him. X also recognizes Y, though doesn’t show it. Pleased to find one of his victims, he quickly seduces him and they have sex.

By this time, multitudes of demons have entered X’s mind through the Dreamscape. Hell can’t bring him back right away – but they do plant a seed of venom, which will quickly kill X’s human form, bringing him back to Hell to face Oblivion. He knows he has to die eventually, but he wants to put that off as long as he can, so he goes on a quest to find a cure. The easiest cure would be to simply pray to God and follow him, but this horrifies X.

Sleeping with X both makes Y feel very guilty and fuel the flames of his lust. He finds himself drawn back to X, and they have sex a lot (in lots of kinky ways, because why not? 8D). Their relationship isn’t just sex, however – Y is X’s only consistent companion, and they become friends. Y starts feeling attached to X. Y tries to combat this by seeking help from his bible teacher, Z, at his Catholic school.

X’s quest involves angels and stuff I haven’t really thought out yet. xD; He also runs into an old woman who recognizes him. He never slept with a woman in the Dreamscape, so this is very unusual. It turns out that X actually used to be a human being – an underground rock star who had a great reputation for promiscuity. He slept with mostly men, and many of those men were straight. His promiscuity and darkness intrigued Lust so much that the Devil made X into a succubus. His human heart explained all his eccentricities, and why he was able to escape Hell.

Also, because of his human nature, his demonic nature is slowly fading away, as he feels a stronger attachment for Y. Y, meanwhile, becomes more consumed by his seed of sin, and falls in lust with Z. They start having sex, and Y tells X. X is very jealous, when before he’d have been delighted. The basic concept is that as X becomes less sinful, Y becomes more sinful. Tragic, huh?

Y’s descent into darkness however is halted when the angel (he will be in the plot more! I just… don’t know how yet! xD) reveals X’s true identity to him. Y is horrified, and resists his impulses again. He calls things off with both X and Z. X is devastated, as he realizes this attachment he feels for Y is actually… love. He works hard to get Y’s forgiveness, but he isn’t willing to.

By this time, X’s body is extremely burdened with his poison, and he has few days to live. He’s tracked down multiple theories on how to cure himself, but none work. Which leaves only two choices… go to God, or be Obliviated. If he had been more demonic, he would’ve settled for Oblivion; however, his human desire for survival and love for Y convinces him to actually turn to him (very very grudgingly). The angel is ecstatic by the change, and X is healed. Lust is enraged.

In his excitement, the angel tells Y of X’s change, and Y is shocked… and happy. Y seeks him out, and X tells him the truth. They agree to start over together, this time on the road to the light. The end. Aww, is that a little too sappy? xD; I might end up creating a darker ending because… yeah. .____.

Themes: free will v.s. predestination, humanity, good and evil, all fun topics~