Elleh Writes

new matchablossom fic has dropped!!

6k of idiots being supportive and then spending a very steamy moment in a dark room.

Kojiro needs a favour. Kaoru’s just too (reluctantly) happy to oblige.

“What.”

“Is that a way to speak to the only person who ever calls you?” Kojiro puts out before he can even think of the consequences.

Which are fast to come, as Kaoru cuts the call before the echo of Kojiro’s voice fades around him. He doesn’t even hesitate when he presses the call back button, because he’s desperate.

“Although you live an idle life,” Kaoru says when he picks up again, and he sounds pissed, “I do have work to do.”

“It’s eight in the evening, what the hell are you working for?”

“The question is, why aren’t you? Don’t you run a restaurant?”

Kojiro’s jaw pulses. They’ve had this same conversation enough times the way the headache comes is almost Pavlovian. “You know perfectly well we close on Tuesdays.”

“Fascinating trivia. If you’re bored, can I suggest you try and better yourself? You could try a book.”

“Oh, come off it. The last time I saw you open a book you were sixteen and about to pass out.”

“If this is why you’ve called—˝

“Dammit, of course it isn’t. You always lure me away with your bullshit.”

“Lure you? Lure you? What am I, a fucking mermaid?”

Kojiro smiles at the thought of that, at the image of that. Kaoru would look impressively attractive as a mermaid.

“You—”

“Don’t even fucking say it, or I’ll end you.”

“Fine,” Kojiro says, knowing full well Kaoru will maim him if he dares keep up with the topic. “I called because— Well, I need your help.”

There’s a silence filled with white noise, long enough for a second Kojiro believes the call has been cut. 

“Hello?”

“You know it will cost you,” Kaoru says, and he sounds giddy.

“You haven’t heard the best part.”

He isn’t as excited when he warns, “I will not carry you around like a fucking princess, Kojiro.”

“Who asked?”

Fandom: SK8

Relationship: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom

Rating: General

Word count: 2,443 words

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, post-ep.9, that ep fucked me good, pinning

Something breaks loose in Kojiro’s chest at the sight of Adam smashing his skate on Kaoru’s face.

It’s burning red, branding his insides like a corrosive acid. Poison, and the strength of an earthquake shaking the already weakened foundations of a friendship that hasn’t been for so long it now crumbles, soundless, meaningless. Kojiro’s hyper-aware of his own breathing, of the contraction of his muscles, from shoulders to hands, jaw and lips. The big screen shows Kaoru on the ground, bloody and beaten—fucking beaten in a fucking beef, as if this were the regular weeknight for all of them—and then it pans to Adam in his fucking, ridiculous costume, standing as if what he’s just done hasn’t broken more than just Kaoru’s skin.

“What the hell?” Shadow musters besides him.

“Is that— Should we call an ambulance?”

No one is calling an ambulance. Kaoru isn’t getting out of here in anything but his own feet or the benevolence of one of the spectators, and Kojiro’s experience in the matter doesn’t make him feel positive about it.

He’s still burning inside.

Without a word, he turns around, tries to find the race’s car and fails, and the flames in his chest start crawling up his throat, turning into a huge lump that clogs his breathing. He looks around, whatever vehicle will fucking do, dammit, but there’s nothing, nothing but people cheering Adam or complaining about the shortness of the beef or the occasional but unwanted oh no, cherry needs help!, that amounts to people doing absolutely nothing.

Kojiro’s starting to see red. His breathing is harsh now, his muscles so tense they feel on fire. If he manages to make it to Kaoru before Adam vanishes, he will fucking kill him.

“Here.” A hand on his elbow. Kojiro turns around so fast he almost punches Shadow on the face. His and Miya’s expressions are somber, which manages to calm down the obliterating rage eating Kojiro from the inside out enough for him to think. Shadow shakes his hand again, making the keys clink. “Take it. Go pick Cherry up and take him to the hospital.”

Kojiro picks the keys with care, reverently. Kindness should be the norm, and still, Kojiro feels indebted to them for this little gesture. He asks, “Are you sure?”, but he’s already running towards the car, parked on a corner by the entrance.

Adam isn’t there when he arrives. Kaoru’s still on his back, nose bleeding, head bleeding. Carla’s electric voice keeps beeping in a weird, song-like rhythm. The board might have been broken, too.

“Kaoru,” Kojiro says, and kneels beside him. His eyes are closed and his head is bleeding tons, shit, what if he has a contusion, what if—

“That fucker smashed his board on my face,” Kaoru hisses, eyes still closed but voice strong. Kojiro’s head falls forward, his muscles relax all at once, the mere sound of Kaoru angry and alive enough to clear the draining tension off of him. “I will fucking end him.”

“Not if I end him first,” Kojiro promises. The vehemence, the plain, absolute truth of his words is strange enough that Kaoru finally opens his eyes—one bloody, the other swollen—and looks at him with shock. “Hello, there. Let me take you to the hospital.”

Fandom: Sk8 Infinity

Relationship: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,555 words

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Balcony Sex, i watched ep 7 and piercings happened

There are great things about being the proud owner of a known restaurant: the satisfaction of knowing your food is that good, seeing your name and your restaurant’s in this article or in that TV program, and of course it’s always lovely to pose for a picture with one of your cute customers every odd day. 

What Kojiro loves the most, though, what he will never say out loud—he even hates thinking about it, sometimes—is having a begrudgingly loyal customer that sits down to eat his food every other week. Face twisted in contempt when Kojiro approaches and thanks to their patronage—Kaoru seldom comes on his own when it’s light outside—, eyes crinkled when Kojiro dares send his way a wink right after serving his food. 

Tragic, really, that Kaoru’s visits should make Kojiro’s heart race and his lips twist in a smile, but there you have it. Kaoru is a thankless prick that pulls out Kojiro’s worst qualities, and yet here they are. Dancing around each other and enjoying it as if they were still teenagers trying to fuck-rage each other out of their systems. 

The never-ending cycle of repeat should have gotten boring by now. The bickering, and the hate fucking in closets and in hidden corners, rushed and harsh because they always tease each other too much too far when they ought to be doing something else. 

Kojiro looks now at the pristine white of the kitchen’s wall and remembers the mind-blowing fuck they had on the way to the hot springs while waiting for the others to arrive. How Kaoru had almost bitten his head off, and still had pushed Kojiro off his skate and between two bushes before going to his knees and swallowing him without a thought. How he’d left Kojiro right on the edge—the fucking bastard, he enjoys doing that way too much—and had stepped back on his skate before flying off again; the I am winning this, you stupid monkey finally kicking Kojiro out of his horny haze and prompting him to follow. How Kaoru was so high on his win they’d barely made it to the changing room before he’d thrown his yukata on the floor and pointed his pale back towards Kojiro, demanding, pleading. 

How Kojiro had grabbed his hair and then his hip, and had fucked him there, against the wall, raw and with just the exact amount of lube for it to be painfully pleasurable. For Kaoru to burn through it, until he was so desperate he could do nothing but beg. 

Kaoru liked to be fucked roughly enough for him to feel it for a week, and Kojiro loved to comply. At least when he could leave the shape of his fingers on Kaoru’s beautiful pallor and know the ghost memory of his cock fucking into Kaoru would accompany him until their next encounter. 

So, it is safe to say Kojiro might have a thing for Kaoru. For fucking him, that is. It’s impressive that people are still oblivious to the fact they’ve been on each other’s dicks since high school, especially with how obvious it is that the way they fight—in the S, on a skate, in public in general—is just foreplay. 

Maybe not just foreplay. Kojiro’s not entirely sure Kaoru’s feelings towards him are of the tender-but-must-be-hidden variety. In truth, that would be somewhat off-putting. Fucking someone who so vocally despises you is a kink Kojiro didn’t know he had, but that he can’t imagine a life without anymore. 

This is full of: Two Boys Pinning, Oblivious Ritsu Until He Isn’t Oblivious Anymore,  Touchy-Feely, A Lot Of Blushing, Some First Kiss

So what, if Ritsu is especially touchy-feely with Shou? They are friends. They’ve gone through some dark stuff together. There’s no hidden meaning behind Ritsu always searching for Shou’s arm or Shou’s hand or Shou’s warmth. Just… friends… being… friends…

Ritsu's suddenly aware of why he's always so touchy-feely with Shou, and he is having a full-on gay crisis. There are psychic powers involved, a couple of swings and stupid boys in love that have no idea they are in love until someone actually tells them straight on.

I can finally post my piece for the @hqmythologyzine ! I used the legend of Sant Jordi (Saint George) and the version we tell on Catalonia. For those who doesn’t know what’s about, there’s a dragon involved, a prince and some blood turned roses. If you wanna know more about the legend and how we celebrate it, I’ll be ecstatic to share it with you!

Since this is sort of long, I’m going to post a small excerpt. You can find the whole thing here in ao3. 

Saint Tooru

There’s blood on the battlefield, although it won’t be blood for much longer, nor does this cursed middle place deserve the gravity of being called a battlefield.

The crops are tainted red, a massive mountain of muscles and fire and life groaning its pain through this kingdom, through the hundreds yet to come. There’s a knight at its belly, chest swell and sword sharp. The glitter of the setting sun turns his steel into fire. It’s hard to discern where the legend ends and where it begins. Men have always been easily confused by heroes in the depths of tragedy.

The mountain falls. Red blood starts shaping into silky scarlet and protective green. The knight breathes in, breathes out, and as the echoes of the mountain’s death vanish on the vast sky, the knight goes to his knees.

Since I’m here, let me tell you I started a MatsuHana fic, in which Hanamaki and Matsukawa are in love with Oikawa and Iwaizumi and meet at their friends slash crushes’ moving-in-together party. It is pretty hot, slightly angsty, they are a pair of idiots and I love them to pieces. 

It will have 7 chapters, and 5 of them are already up. I update every Saturday. Here you have the beginning of the first chapter! You can find it complete here.

Heartbreak 

Heartbreak should never, ever be wallowed in over techno music.

Add the three drinks that are already burning in his stomach, the flashing lights and the fact he’s spent four hours staring at what he’d thought to be the love of his life being the happiest in another’s man’s arms, and heartbreak feels like the welcoming party to Hell.

Takahiro takes a long sip from his drink, choking on the fire that ignites in his throat. His eyes are glued to the happy couple, bodies tangled moving with the beat of the music. Sweat glitters in their skins, and Takahiro growls before finishing the stupid drink.

“It almost feels like you wanna murder them,” someone yells near Takahiro’s ear.

The guy’s lucky the alcohol has turned Takahiro’s movements into a clumsy disaster, otherwise he’d have his face plastered to the bar. Takahiro shrugs, steps back and stares up at the man’s calm eyes.

He knows him, barely. He’s the boyfriend’s best friend. Something-something-awa. The end of his name is awfully familiar to Oikawa’s. Another little jab to add to this amazing night.