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PoT drabbles - outlaws of loveoutlaws of lovePoT drabbles - outlaws of love by aozorastage
| prompt: 002 – love |
we’ve left a trail of broken hearts and homes in our wake, but I know we’ll make it somehow.
warning: yaoi (boy/boy) fluff ahead.
A resounding slap pierced the air.
Kunimitsu turned his head back to face his father, a red handprint mark marring his left cheek. Behind the imposing man stood Kunimitsu’s mother and grandfather, who gazed at him with such vile disappointment that the stoic young lad could feel himself die a little more inside.
“You are not my son,” Kuniharu announced coldly. “I have no love for this unfilial, ill-disciplined son who dares to love another of the same gender! Get out!”
As if snapping out of her trance at those last heart-wrenching words, Ayana rushed forward to clutch at her husband’s arm in protest. “Anata–”
“Do not interfere!” He roared, tearing away from her. He seized Kunimitsu by the scr
PoT drabbles - salutationssalutationsPoT drabbles - salutations by aozorastage
| prompt: 001 - introduction |
their friendship came to be with the help of rambling, chilled water, and their love for tennis.
Jirou watches through the wall of wired metal as the ball rolls across the net and falls on the other side.
"Wow," he breathes, eyes sparkling with delight, "wow."
That was amazing.
"Tightrope-walking," the boy with pink-red hair declares, winking at the unknown boy on the other side. "Genius, no?"
His opponent can only splutter incoherent words in reply.
The redhead wins the match, obviously. No one around here has the skill to beat him.
Marui is called the King of the street tennis courts for a reason, after all.
It's just a pity that his stamina isn't quite as brilliant as his moves.
He breathes harshly as he collapses onto the bench, perspiration dripping from the bangs clinging to his forehead.
A cool sensation is suddenly pressed against his arm before getting taken away just as fast, makin
rainauthor's note: ninety-nine percent of the people who read this story will not read the description below. such a pity.rain by aozorastage
warning: kinda short, bromance (aka guy friendship), heavily tennis-centric, possible errors in usage of tennis terms, mild exaggeration, marked by a teacher and therefore "edited" of sorts, kinda-sorta-maybe cheesy ending.
| I do this just for kicks, just for the thrill
I got this high without taking a pill
This groove has got me way over the sun |
The weather changed so quickly; no one even knew what had hit them.
The fluffy white clouds had been dark and gloomy for a while now, looming over the tennis courts, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance.
A few of the spectators seated on the bleachers gasped with mild surprise when tiny splashes of water landed on the various parts of their uncovered skin. Some peered upwards at the grey-filled sky, murmuring anxiously at the foreboding weather.
The two young men standing across ea
judgementauthor's note: take a few minutes of your time to scroll down and read the description below, please.judgement by aozorastage
warning: angst galore, fairly long, second-person perspective, curses and profanities, hazardous train of thoughts and words, run-on sentences, abuse of dashes, italics and certain words, mostly unedited, kinda-sorta-maybe sucky writing, real life experience.
| Everybody wants to talk about a freak
No one wants to dig that deep
Let me take you u n d e r n e a t h |
You settle down in your seat in the front row, your friends on your left and right.
You were supposed to be the fifth group to present, but instead, all of you decided to be the grand finale, the best saved for the last, so you agreed to switch with the original last group.
Hesitantly, you lightly trace a finger over the smooth sheet of paper in your hand.
You shouldn't have changed your reflection last night.
Now it's so personal, exposing.
You might be laughed at again.