For reasons wretched and divine
('cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done;
I need to be youthfully felt, cause God, I never felt young.)Yamato/Minami fic collection because I fell hard for a rarepair who flirted passive aggressively in canon like 3 times and I cannot stop writing them♡
(Closed, Moderated)
Recent works
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Summary
“We need to come up with a new excuse for our little trysts,” he said, blush spreading over his cheeks as he fiddled with Yamato's tie. He tilted his head. “You’re a clever man. Won’t you help me?”
Yamato took a deep breath. The space around Natsume was always warm and still, talking to him felt like walking over thin ice. Slippery.
“You want to keep this up? I thought we were only—”
“Coworkers. Yes, we are indeed. I think I made that clear enough, did I not?”
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Summary
"I don't think I'm exactly in love, yet."
Natsume is, by all means, protecting himself; drawing out lines in the sand. And still, his eyes– they are soft as honey. There's something about the curve of his lips, the way they seemed to quiver for an instant, pale sakura petals trembling under a warm spring shower.
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[SPOILER WARNING: references events up to the end of Part 3, and Antagonistic Quarter (Zool backstory). Not spoiler safe for anime-only fans]
Fingers tap at Minami’s hand, warm, and this time he does startle with a little yelp. A chuckle reverberates in response. Grave. Nikaido-san’s voice is thick, cavernous. Smug.
Minami turns his head softly, and the motion makes white bedsheets slide off of his naked torso. -
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Summary
[SPOILER WARNING: references events up to episode 6 of third beat]
Yamato steered himself, relaxed his shoulders taking in a deep breath. A rattlesnake’s call ought not to make blood boil and hairs stand on edge in such a way. No, this was not anxiety. This was not the cold night air, not the shift of temperature upon walking out of the studio, no.
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Summary
Honeycomb, caramel, marble hair and cherry lips, voice like honey milk, hands sculpted by the masters of old, Natsume’s gaze locked onto his, Natsume pinning him against the wall, Natsume staring him up like he’s a sewer rat and then one second later, smiling, sweetly, sickeningly sweet, giggling in pale rose and cream white, leaning one inch closer, brushing a strand of hair that’s slipped off of his braid.
“What’s with that look, Nikaido-san? I warned you not to try me.”