KHR Drabble Challenges! (Numbers 17 - 25)
I didn't even realize there was a limit on how long an LJ post could be. X3 But there is one, so I split this into two parts. This here is the second part, prompts number 17 onward.
--> Prompts 1 to 16 are here~ <--
So I stumbled across this post, and decided I would do a bunch of the prompts~! So, here they are~! I'll update this as I write them~!
Completion status: 26 of 34 done!
I realized I should maybe have some warnings up here, so...
Warning: Cursing, drinking, boy-kissing, smatterings of nudity, implied sex, potential sex, voyeurism, things that'll make your milk squirt out your nose, things that shall forever be burned into your brain, and probably some other stuff.
Also, the KHR crew belongs to Amano; if I owned them, the KHR universe would be much more chaotic.
The prompt list belongs to the lovely lingerosie, who hath broken my long-term writer's block. ^_^
Now enjoy~. Comments and Crits are always welcome and, in fact, quite encouraged~!
Prompt Seventeen (Done~! <3)
01/06/10
As he took in the finer details of the boy’s shirt, he had to wonder whether he fully understood why having “Carpe Arseum” written on the back was such a bad idea around their usual company. (A/N: Carpe Arseum is a play on spelling from the Latin phrase Carpe Diem, meaning seize the day. I'm sure you can get it...)
Ken had a new shirt. This wasn’t some huge deal, really; most of the time, Chikusa hardly bothered to even take notice of the boy’s clothing preferences. Outside of his school uniform, Ken’s clothing choices never seemed to have any rhyme or reason, never had Chikusa picked up on a particular affinity for one style or color over another. His shirts were an endless hodge-podge of colors and designs, proclaiming band names and English words that Mukuro (in his all-knowing sort of way) would chuckle at and mysteriously refuse to translate, some simply sporting strange abstract designs and some with more recognizable animals, skulls, people, and any number of people, places, things. Just this one particular shirt, though, made Chikusa raise an eyebrow as he took in the finer details of it. At first blush, it looked to be another one with the odd, abstract designs... swirls stretching across the expanse of his mid-back, looking something like vines in the way that they curled. And near the center of the odd pattern, the black swirls condensed into words in some archaic font. “Carpe Arseum.” He recognized “Carpe” -- that was Latin, like that phrase “Carpe Diem,” “Seize the day.” ‘Arseum’ took a bit more thought. But after picking it apart, it dawned on him, and he had to question whether or not Ken knew its meaning. Especially considering the company they often kept, and how often he seemed to be wearing that shirt.
Yet, Chikusa decided against bringing it up. He simply waited, to see what would become of it.
And something did come of it. Heading back home from a grocery trip, the two boys were packed onto a train, standing near the doors and, though their experiences as assassins wouldn’t let them be blissfully unaware of the surrounding passengers, they continued to debate whether or not gum and soda were viable ‘emergency food provisions’ or not as if they were. And then Ken stopped mid-argument to make a strange noise, and whirled on the laughing, garishly-dressed teenager behind him yelping, “Did you just grab my ass, pyon?!”
Chikusa sighed heavily and dragged Ken off at the next stop, not wishing to get involved any further in the scene that his companion had stirred up.
Prompt Eighteen (Done~! <3)
02/09/10
They've been doing it for years, its okay, they know they don't mean what they're saying. But why has it changed, why is it suddenly really not okay...
A disparaging comment, followed by a quick retort in a monotonous voice, leading to one or many knives piercing Fran’s skin and an unconvincing “Bel-sempai, that hurts.” It was as if they were actors, repeating their well-rehearsed lines for crowd after crowd, venue after venue. They’d fallen into this pattern, thinking nothing of it, as if it were merely a habit… like how Belphegor would always brush the left side of his hair first, or how Fran would puff out his cheeks when he was annoyed. Thoughtless, mindless activities that filled the empty spaces of the day. And then something changed. Belphegor’s insults had more of a sexual, flirtatious undertone to them. Fran’s retorts had him fighting a blush. The knives lessened and didn’t dig as deep, and sometimes, Bel would merely drag the pieces of metal across Fran’s skin, eyes tracing the line of blood from behind a curtain of blonde hair. The encounters came more and more often, more and more when they were alone. They were no longer static, rehearsed; somewhere, a line had been forgotten and ad-libbed, and the two ran with their newfound freedom.
A hand on his cheek, and Fran turned his eyes up to Belphegor, uncertain about finding the prince in his personal room. Bel smiled - Fran had noticed the difference between the smiles and the psychotic grins that preceded general havoc - and leaned in, pressing his mouth over Fran’s, mouth moving expertly in a way that made the illusionist wonder who the prince had learned from.
And then the lips were gone from his, and Fran forgot to fight a blush, mouthing the prince’s name rather than “fallen prince”. No knives appeared in Bel’s hands, but those hands remained dangerous, stroking over the green-haired male’s face in fluttering touches that made the dubbed “froggy’s” heart beat faster.
There was the sound of stomping footsteps in the hall, and the prince’s hands were pulled away, a warning dropping from those lips, “Tell no one!”
The door swung open, crashing against the wall, and Squalo ordered them to stop fucking around and get ready for a mission.
Prompt Nineteen (Done~! <3)
“Give me back my book”
“What is it? You've been glued to this for days...”
“Give it to me. Now.”
“I'm just looking, I'll give it straight back after I've-oh my god!”
Ken sat on the floor of the Kokuyo gang’s run down clubhouse, legs crossed and hands on his ankles, his eyes boring holes into the beanie-covered head of his companion, Chikusa. Chikusa, for his part, was wholly unaffected by the boy’s staring. He simply kept his head bowed, reading his book quietly.
“Oi!” Ken barked, and Chikusa would have twitched with surprise, were he not so accustomed to Ken’s loud and often random outbursts. Instead, he merely ignored him.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the boy squirm in his spot, like a puppy that had been told to ‘stay.’ There was a moment of silence, and then Ken called out again.
“Oi, Kakipi!”
Chikusa’s eye twitched a little at the ridiculous nickname he’d acquired. He imagined that if he didn’t answer, the blonde would just keep yelling, so he replied with a quiet, “I’m busy, Ken.”
The blonde made a noise, not unlike a dog’s whine, and questioned, “With what? What are you reading?”
Chikusa turned a page and didn’t respond.
“Kakipi~!”
Chikusa studied the illustration on the page, eyes drifting through the sketched lines. Ken started to stand, and Chikusa spoke smoothly, “Sit, Ken.”
The blonde plopped back down on his rear, blinking, “What?”
“Stay there.”
Ken stared at him from his spot on the floor, until finally he grew bored and stood with a ‘Che.’ This time, Chikusa just ignored him, figuring he’d given up.
A hand grabbed the top of his book and yanked, pulling it away from the glasses-wearing boy’s hands. Chikusa looked up at Ken, eyes narrowed as he warned, “Give me back my book.”
“What is it, pyon? You’ve been glued to it for days…” Ken dangled it from his fingers teasingly, daring the other to take it away.
“Give it to me. Now.” Chikusa brought out his yo-yo, hand poised ready to flick it out, ally or not.
Ken’s brown eyes rolled to the ceiling as he proclaimed, “I’m just looking, pyon! You’ll get it back after-“
He laid eyes on the open page, and his jaw went slack for a moment. Calm before the storm, Chikusa thought.
“What the hell is this, Kakipi?!” The dog boy pointed at the cover, proclaiming in bright yellow words, ‘Care and Training of Your Puppy.’ “You don’t have a dog, pyon!”
Chikusa leaned back, adjusting his glasses, but didn’t say anything as Ken flipped through the pages, perhaps thinking the cover had been a ruse. He paused at Chikusa’s bookmark, eyes scanning the chapter title.
Chikusa held out his empty hand, “Ken.” The blonde looked up, “Give it.” His other hand held up his yo-yo as a warning.
“Hmph, here.” He thrust the book back into Chikusa’s hand, paused as he realized something, and shouted, “Hey! I’m not a fucking dog, pyon!”
Chikusa held his book in one hand and adjusted his glasses with his other, a small smirk on his lips, “Ken, speak.”
“I said I’m Not. A. Dog. Pyon!”
Prompt Twenty (Done~! <3)
01/07/10
The sea is for frolicking.
Dino remembered when he was young, and his father would take him riding on one of the many horses he kept. His father had always had a particular affinity for horses, passed down from his own father. Dino’s own mother had been a stablehand at the Cavallone’s stables, in fact. The story went that the two of them would take off with a pair of horses as soon as her chores were done and run off for the beach, galloping their horses through the surf until sunset and coming back as wet and covered in sand as their mounts.
Dino had always thought that he would one day take his wife galloping through the surf, like his parents had done in their younger years. It was silly, but in his mind, he would reserve that ride for only his true love.
When Tsuna came to Italy on one of his business meetings, Dino made sure he was there to greet him and Gokudera at the airport. They exchanged greetings, and Dino insisted they take his car to their hotel. That was the last he got to see of his ‘younger brother’ for awhile; Tsuna was wrapped up in business for the majority of the week, and much to Dino’s chagrin, that left little time for them to hang out.
When Tsuna finally did find some free time, on his last day in Italy, Dino was determined to make the tired Vongola boss enjoy it. They met at Dino’s mansion and, perched on a white marble porch overlooking and expanse of green pasture with the sea beyond that, they sipped lemonade, chatting idly about this and that as the sun sunk in the sky.
And then, the idle question, “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
Tsuna looked up in thought, and laughed a little, “Just a pony at some festival.”
Dino smiled, placing his emptied glass on the tray and plucking Tsuna’s from his hands, “Come on, I’ll show you how.”
The young boss’s eyes widened in wonder as a stablehand brought forth a deep mahogany-colored horse with a black mane and tail, and black on its legs. It walked quietly, not showing any sign of malice despite its size. Behind him, Dino was already leading out his own white horse, and the stablehand gave him a smile, passing the reins to the Vongola’s boss’s hands before disappearing back down the hall.
A short lesson in front of the barn later, Dino and his horse, Grazia, led the way with Tsuna and Adelaide picking their way behind them. Dino glanced back, smiling broadly and slowing his horse to let Tsuna catch up.
“Wanna go a little faster?” he questioned, eyes shining. Tsuna looked ahead of them, admiring the expanse of sand and sea, the sun just beginning to drop behind the waves, and found himself nodding with the same infectious smile.
Dino kicked his horse into a gallop first, the large animal moving quickly into a powerful stride, throwing up sand behind it. Tsuna’s horse followed suit, throwing its head up and whinnying to its herdmate.
As the sun dipped into the sea, the waves seeming to slowly put out the flames of the huge orb, the two men and their two horses galloped down the beach and through the surf, laughing and hollering, and long after dark, they turned the sea-salt and sand covered horses over to the sleepily smiling stable help and stumbled back to the mansion, all smiles and laughs.
A/N: I've kinda always envisioned Dino as living in some mansion with a stable of horses, even before his Sky Horse showed up.
By the way, the horses' names are both Italian -- 'Grazia' means 'Grace', 'Adelaide' means something like 'Noble Sort'. In case you cared. :p
Prompt Twenty-One (Done~! <3)
01/09/10
It's small, wrapped in layers of bubble-wrap and tape. The brown paper has been tightly folded and pinned in place with securely fastened string. There's no note with it, no sticker on the paper or address, it’s just sitting there, waiting for him to open.
Gokudera stares at the small package, settled on his kitchen table where he’d relocated it to, and contemplates it as he smokes. It has some weight to it, but is still fairly light, and when shaken, something solid and metal slides and clinks. He doesn’t recall ordering anything recently, and can’t think of anyone in particular that might leave something on his doorstep other than, perhaps, an adoring fangirl. They were frightening, yet not overtly dangerous. Finally, he reached out and plucked it off the table top, deft fingers flipping open a small pocket knife and severing the string. He picked at the paper and peeled it away, revealing a rather plain white box. Pausing a moment to inspect the exterior of it for any sign of who it may’ve come from, he finally resigned to opening the box and peering inside.
Blinking once, then again, he plucked the object from its container and dangled before himself a shining pair of handcuffs, murmuring around his cigarette, “What the hell?”
The next few minutes he spent scouring the entirety of the packaging to discover any clue he could about the sender, and came up with nothing for his efforts. Eventually, he merely chalked it up to a creepy fangirl, and tossed the cuffs back in their box, dropping it on the counter and promptly forgot about them.
Two days later, however, another package appeared, similarly wrapped in a slightly larger box. This one, though, was much lighter, and made no noise when he shook it. Reservations gone, he tore it open as soon as he’d gotten inside, and withdrew a piece of dark red cloth… silk, he decided upon closer inspection, and not even imitation. He frowned at it, as if the simple scarf could reveal the mystery sender’s identity.
Another two days later, and a third package appeared. Gokudera had it open before he even stepped inside… the contents made his face redden, and he was quick to hide the small vial with its ridiculously blatant labeling of ‘sexual lubricant’ where no one would find it.
The following week, every two days, another package would show up, none ever hinting towards a sender, but each containing an individual item of a blatantly sexual nature. And then they stopped. He didn’t see another package for four days, and the sudden change made him feel on edge. It was bad enough receiving a small collection of… toys, for a lack of better word, from some stranger who obviously knew where he lived; the whole ordeal, really, was rather nerve-wracking. He was suspicious, careful not to let anyone know about the 'gifts', but careful to watch everyone for any sort of odd behavior. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he walked home alone, and even Tsuna had noticed how jumpy he’d gotten.
On the sixth day of silence from the unknown sender, he’d begun to calm, thinking perhaps it had just been a prank, or the person had lost interest. He was home that night, eating cup ramen in the kitchen as he walked aimlessly through the apartment in his boxers, his hair still dripping from his shower. A knock at the door made him pause mid-slurp, and he eyed the door with annoyance, and a slight hint of paranoia. Swallowing the bite of food, he grabbed a stick of dynamite and slunk up to the door, peering cautiously through the peephole as he yelled, “What do ya want?!”
No one answered, and through the peephole, he couldn’t see anyone. His jaw tensed. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled open the door, sticking his head out into the hallway, but no one was there. Relief washed over him, and he shut the door, chuckling to himself in amusement at his own imagination-run-wild. Until he felt a finger grab at the waistband of his boxers from behind and snap them against his lower back. He made a shriek that he would never admit sounded as girly as it did as he swung around, already readying his lighter to arm himself.
Standing just within arms’ length, Mukuro chuckled at the jumpy Italian, showing no outward signs of malice beyond being in Gokudera’s apartment and not invited. Understandably, then, the bomber was suspicious.
“What the hell-why are you here?!”
“You shouldn’t leave your windows unlocked. It only invites intruders.” Mukuro took a step forward, and Gokudera took a step back.
“Like you.” The boy snapped, retreating another step almost unconsciously. Sarcasm dripping from his voice, he added, “Thanks for the demonstration. Now get the hell out.”
“Why, I couldn’t do that.” Mukuro’s ever-present smile somehow looked convoluted, and Gokudera’s back his the door. The mist guardian finished with, “You’re blocking the door.”
Gokudera’s mouth opened to retort angrily, and he moved to light his stick of dynamite.
Swiftly, Mukuro knocked the bomb from his hand and leaned in, pressing his lips almost violently to the Italian’s and holding his smaller wrists against the door. He stayed there for several long minutes, mouth working to incite a response, but all he got was a growling noise and violent struggling. Readjusting his angle, the taller man slid a leg up between Gokudera’s, making the boy squeak and still, though only for a moment.
Finally, when it was obvious that all he’d get was fierce opposition (and, honestly, he expected no less from the stormy-eyed child), the mist guardian retreated his lips, letting their breaths mingle between their mouths. They locked eyes, one set promising a painful death, the other oozing amusement.
“Did you enjoy my gifts? I couldn’t help but notice that you kept them all.”
Gokudera made a noise like a strangled cat and screamed, “You--! Fuck you, you goddamned pervert! Let go of me! Get out of my house!”
Mukuro’s eyes were lidded as he slipped away, “Well, my intention was to fuck you.” He slipped back out the window as Gokudera spluttered in rage and embarrassment.
Prompt Twenty-Two (incomplete)
Reborn's not the only one with secret passageways...
Prompt Twenty-Three (incomplete)
Not that I'm not highly amused, but why are you standing in my bedroom in just a towel?
Prompt Twenty-Four (incomplete)
“Untuck your skirt out, and man the fuck up!”
Prompt Twenty-Five (The UberPrompt!) (Partially done)
Super-special drabble-prompt of doom! (Fill in your top 10 favorite characters, they can be dead, alive or even from another fandom if you want to x-over, then write a drabble for each question in under 400 words (longer if you want...)! Simples! )
(Since I've got *most* of this one done, and am just stuck on the last few, I'll post what I've got done. :3)
First, my Character list:
1 - Gokudera
2 - Belphegor
3 - Squalo
4 - Dino
5 - Tsuna
6 - Yamamoto
7 - Hibari
8 - XANXUS
9 - Mukuro
10 - Ken
01/05/10
1) 2 (Belphegor) and 3 (Squalo) romance/smut.
Perhaps I should take up swordfighting. Belphegor thought privately, What prince doesn’t know how to wield a sword, after all?
His eyes moved over Squalo’s toned body as the older male moved about the room, picking up odd articles of clothing. Each one he picked up he would give a quick once-over to decipher if it belonged to himself or the blonde who continued to lounge on the soft bed. If it was his own, he’d carry it with him; Bel’s clothing he would toss aside, refusing to wait on the boy like the prince he proclaimed himself.
“VOOOIII! Hey, Brat, where the hell did you throw my shirt?!” The silvery-haired swordfighter finally shouted, turning on the younger one.
Bel rested his cheek on his hand and smiled, “Shishishi~, How should I know~”
The vein on Squalo’s forehead looked like it might burst, and his eyes moved over the room once again, until he spotted them sticking out from beneath the bed. Retrieving them, he cursed when he found them torn to shreds, no doubt thanks to Bel and his overzealousness with those damned knives of his.
“VOOOOIII!! Look at this! How many times do I have to tell you to stop tearing up my clothes, bastard?!” He waved the garment around to illustrate his point, and threw it at his younger lover.
“Stop wearing shirts, then, shishishi~” was Bel’s comment, and to further his point, he began methodically shredding the shirt into small strips of white and throwing them about like confetti.
Squalo’s “VOOOOOIIII!!! YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!!” was heard throughout the Varia headquarters, and the following day, the timid young man who ordered their uniforms could only wonder at why Squalo came to him shirtless demanding that his shirts be made of much sturdier material.
A/N: I'm sorry, that one is kinda weird. T^T Squalo/Bel is a weird pairing.
01/05/10
2) 4 (Dino) has to get a kiss off 9 (Mukuro), how hard can it be?
Dino stared nervously at Mukuro, though he believed he hid it well. Up close, the man really was much more intimidating.
“... Yes?”
“I... um...” the blonde faltered, mouth opening and closing helplessly. Really, how does one tell someone, ‘Hey, I sorta lost a bet and have to kiss you. So, pucker up, dude!’
Mukuro shifted his weight to the other leg and donned an amused expression, “You...?”
“I... was wondering if...” Shit, where was I going with that again?
“Lost a bet, huh?”
Dino started, eyes widening and mouth gaping. Mukuro chuckled, a smirk touching his lips.
“Uh, um, y-yeah, I...” Stop stuttering, you fool! You sound like some teenage kid on his first date!
And then Mukuro leaned in close, eyes half lidded and lips curved into a lazy smile, as he asked, “That didn’t sound very convincing. Are you sure you’re not just here for a kiss?”
Dino’s face turned a bright red, but some shred of dignity (or, perhaps, paralyzing fear.) allowed him to keep himself from backing away.
“That’s not--mmph!“
Mukuro sealed his mouth over Dino’s open one, silencing anything the Bronco may’ve said to the contrary. When the illusionist pulled back, he studied the younger man’s flushed face. Running his tongue over his upper lip, he smiled and commented offhandedly, “Perhaps that nickname isn’t just for show, Bucking Bronco.”
Dino’s face turned cherry red and he retreated from the room with as much of his dignity intact as he could, swearing he’d never make a bet with Reborn ever again.
A/N: You know you seekritly ship Mukuro/Dino~!
3) If 1 (Gokudera) had to take 5 (Tsuna) out to a bar, how would they do it?
01/07/10
“Juudaime!”
Gokudera pushed open the door to Tsuna’s office, voice upbeat and cheery despite his often sullen appearance.
“Oh, Gokudera-kun.” Was the tired response he got from his beloved Tenth. Gokudera’s cheer dissipated into a worried frown as he moved closer to the desk. His green eyes moved over the piles of paperwork, the empty coffee cup, and small plate of barely-touched sandwiches, before finally settling on his boss’s bowed head. Tsuna’s eyes flickered over the last few lines of a paper before him, signed it at the bottom, and set it aside with a tired sigh. His free hand grabbed the coffee cup and brought it to his lips before he noticed that it was empty and staring forlornly at the coffee stains at the bottom of it. Finally, he set it aside and looked up to his right-hand-man, who instantly perked up and donned a smile for his Boss’s sake.
“The guys were heading up to some new bar that opened. Since you’ve been locked up in here all day, you should come with us!” he beamed.
Tsuna was about to smile, and then sunk in his seat, “...Reborn would--”
“He already said it was fine.” Coming around the desk, the Italian grabbed the back of Tsuna’s chair and pulled it out, “Come on, come on!”
Smiling a little at his friend, he gave in, standing and stretching, wincing as his bones creaked back into alignment. Certainly getting out for some fresh air would help get his mind off this paperwork.
Gokudera briskly picked up the dishes and ushered his boss to the door, depositing the dishes on a tray for a maid to pick up later.
When finally everyone was assembled, they passed through the doors of the underground base into a secret door at the back of a boarded-up abandoned building. When they were sure the coast was clear, the small group of guardians and their boss traveled jovially through the streets, led by Ryohei who’d been the one to discover the bar.
Tsuna had lost track of how long they’d been there, and amidst all the activity he had somehow lost track of how many drinks he’d had as well. He wasn’t quite drunk yet, though he could tell at a glance that Yamamoto, Gokudera, and maybe even Ryohei were. Lambo, sitting at his side, had hardly drunk anything at all, it seemed; either that, or he held his alcohol remarkably well.
Ryohei had gotten hold of the karaoke machine, and was belting out some tune that Tsuna was trying his best to block out. Yamamoto and Gokudera were fighting... as usual. Tsuna wasn’t sure what the fight was about, but with all the gesturing and drunkenly-suggestive looks, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Instead, he ordered a glass of water from the barkeep and decided to lay off the alcohol for the night. After all, someone would have to help Lambo haul them all back to the base.
12/30/09
4) 6 (Yamamoto) has a bit of a confession to make, and it’s all to do with 10 (Ken).
The Vongola guardians were gathered together with Ken and Chikusa as Chrome and Tsuna collaborated information on a target. Though Chrome’s ever-present companions kept their distance, Yamamoto couldn’t help staring at the blonde of the pair, Ken Joshima. He reminded him so much of a dog... even without those fang cartridges of his. Just... the way he sat, and growled, and hung his tongue out...
He sheepishly admitted to himself that the dog-boy had taken up much of his thought lately.
For instance, did Ken lap up his water?
Would he fetch a stick? Play with squeaky toys?
Did he like having his belly rubbed?
... Did he prefer it doggy style?
Yamamoto brought a hand up and ducked his head, covering the flash of red that crossed his face. No one seemed to notice.
12/30/09
5) Why is 6 (Yamamoto) afraid of 7 (Hibari)?
There was a crash and the squeal of furniture shoved across the floor.
Yamamoto contemplated his options as he stared at the wooden door of the Namimori disciplinary club room. On the one hand, if the sounds were of Hibari ‘disciplining’ someone, he likely wouldn’t be pleased with an interruption. On the other hand... what if someone were hurt?
“Y-You...” Hibari’s voice, strained and full of venom, “...I’ll bite you to death.”
There was light laughter, unconcerned with the threat (Yamamoto could’ve sworn he’d heard it before), followed by a low voice, indiscernible over the crash of something solid hitting the floor. Something metal clattered and slid across the floor, clunking against the door. There was a moment of quiet, and then heavy breathing.
Yamamoto steeled his nerves and burst through the door, ready to get a tonfa to the face. And then he stopped. Mukuro stood near the middle of the room, in all his naked glory, hand in Hibari’s hair, holding the younger disciplinarian on his knees before him.
Yamamoto’s mouth, opened and closed of its own accord.
“Kufufufu.... Care to join us, child?”
As if he’d really say ‘yes’ and waltz in with Hibari’s glare promising pain enough that Yamamoto’s ancestors may even feel it?
The baseball fanatic slammed the door and vacated the area.
01/05/10
6) This is why they shouldn't fight, things always ended up...messy. (1 (Gokudera) and 10 (Ken))
The wreckage spread all around them -- trees and plants trampled, broken, and burnt, areas of dirt laid bare, even a few smoldering tree branches, still dropping ashes onto the bed of leaves below.
In the center of the wreckage, those responsible for the destruction stood, battle-ready and covered with dirt, sweat, and blood, shouting across the open expanse between them.
Hayato Gokudera, self-proclaimed right hand man of Tsuna, the Tenth Vongola boss, and Ken Joshima, privately proclaimed right-hand-man of Mukuro, leader of the Kokuyo gang, Mafia criminal, and prison escapee.
The aforementioned bosses both stood at the sidelines, Tsuna looking worried and Mukuro smirking lightly.
“They’re quite alike, aren’t they?” The illusionist commented offhandedly.
The two fighters ran at eachother.
Tsuna tried hard to think of a way to stop them before they destroyed the forest, and declined to comment.
Mukuro carried on, though, “So, who do you think is right?” a wicked grin accompanied the question.
Tsuna’s cheeks turned pink, and he stepped forward to yell, “Gokudera--!”
His storm guardian apparently couldn’t hear him. The two were again yelling at eachother, this time close enough that the onlookers could clearly hear them.
“Mukuro-sama’s is defiantly bigger!”
“No way, Juudaime’s is!”
Mukuro started to laugh.
12/30/09
8) 3 (Squalo) has to take 8 (XANXUS) to a bar, how hard can it be?
Squalo glanced from the cowering bartender on the floor to his whiskey-drinking boss, and hopped easily over the counter, retrieving his boss a refill and then searching through the charred remains of alcoholic beverages for a drink for himself. Preferably something that’ll make him drunk, fast. He paused to glance at the bartender and informed him, “Get out of here, and be glad he was in a good mood.”
The bartender didn’t even hesitate to run out of the building. Squalo made a mental note to make sure that Levi would come to regret forgetting to restock the bar at the Varia HQ.
01/05/10
9) “Damn it 4 (Dino), get the hell out of my room! And put some clothes on for heaven’s sake!”
“All right, all right! I'm going! Calm down 7 (Hibari)”
“Now.”
Hibari returned to the Namimori Disciplinary Committee room after patrolling the school grounds, and where he would normally found the room empty, today he found someone else there. Someone wearing nothing but a small towel. His eyes narrowed.
“You. What are you doing here?” a pause and, “And put some clothes on, for heaven’s sake!”
Dino jerked, startled, and put his hands up, “Ah, Kyoya, I was just--!”
“Out! Now!”
“B-But, my clothes--!”
That made Hibari pause. He couldn’t exactly have the idiot running around his school naked and disturbing the peace. And where *were* his clothes, anyway? Hibari’s eyes darted around the room.
Dino sheepishly explained, “My clothes got ruined while I was training with Tsuna... Romario just left to get me a change.”
The prefect set his teeth on edge. So he was stuck with this naked idiot until his subordinate came back? He turned his back on him and skulked towards the desk set against the wall, intent on ignoring the blonde and doing some paperwork.
There was a lull, and then a shadow was cast over the prefect. He grabbed the tonfa laying beside him and automatically struck out at the Bronco. Dino yelped and fell over.
Turning in the swivel chair, Hibari opened his mouth to order the nearly-naked Bronco back to the couch, but stopped, finding himself gaping at the older male who’d sprawled himself across the floor, a hand on his cheek and towel undone.
“Ooow, Kyoya~, I was just going to see if you needed help!”
Averting his eyes from the slipping towel to Dino’s face, the prefect managed to compose himself and say, “Go sit on the couch and stay there, or I’ll throw you out, with or without clothes!”
The Bronco made a show of pouting and getting up, bending to retrieve his towel, and then pacing back to the couch, apparently uncaring of his nudity.
Hibari stared at him throughout, a scowl fixed on his face and forcing his eyes to remain decidedly northbound. When the nearly-nude man finally sat down, Hibari turned back to his work, only to find himself unable to concentrate on it.
When Romario stepped timidly into the room an excruciatingly long half-hour later, Hibari shushed the little voice at the back of his mind that wished the man had taken longer, and made sure to thoroughly bite Dino to death once he was fully clothed.
12/30/09
10) 5 (Tsuna) muses on the best way to make 6 (Yamamoto) shut up.
Tsuna had always thought himself to be quite patient and good-natured. And he’s been trying to listen earnestly as Yamamoto talked about the baseball game his team had won yesterday, even though much of the sound effects the player interjected in place of verbs made no sense at all, and honestly, Tsuna could care less for baseball. Gokudera looked on the verge of tears, he appeared so bored, but Tsuna liked to think he was polite enough to at least feign interest.
However, even he was beginning to wonder when the long-winded story would end. His mind started to wander, and he started to contemplate the best way to get out of this without hurting his rain guardian’s feelings. A movie scene played in his head, a man and a woman in a similar situation. And then Tsuna leaned in and quickly kissed the other boy.
Yamamoto shut up, but in his place, Gokudera started spluttering, loudly. And once the shock wore off, he carried on about, If the tenth just wanted to kiss someone, why’d you pick the baseball idiot over his right hand man?!, and Tsuna wondered if he should kiss the bomber to shut him up as well.
--> Back to prompts 1 to 16~ <--
--> Prompts 1 to 16 are here~ <--
So I stumbled across this post, and decided I would do a bunch of the prompts~! So, here they are~! I'll update this as I write them~!
Completion status: 26 of 34 done!
I realized I should maybe have some warnings up here, so...
Warning: Cursing, drinking, boy-kissing, smatterings of nudity, implied sex, potential sex, voyeurism, things that'll make your milk squirt out your nose, things that shall forever be burned into your brain, and probably some other stuff.
Also, the KHR crew belongs to Amano; if I owned them, the KHR universe would be much more chaotic.
The prompt list belongs to the lovely lingerosie, who hath broken my long-term writer's block. ^_^
Now enjoy~. Comments and Crits are always welcome and, in fact, quite encouraged~!
Prompt Seventeen (Done~! <3)
01/06/10
As he took in the finer details of the boy’s shirt, he had to wonder whether he fully understood why having “Carpe Arseum” written on the back was such a bad idea around their usual company. (A/N: Carpe Arseum is a play on spelling from the Latin phrase Carpe Diem, meaning seize the day. I'm sure you can get it...)
Ken had a new shirt. This wasn’t some huge deal, really; most of the time, Chikusa hardly bothered to even take notice of the boy’s clothing preferences. Outside of his school uniform, Ken’s clothing choices never seemed to have any rhyme or reason, never had Chikusa picked up on a particular affinity for one style or color over another. His shirts were an endless hodge-podge of colors and designs, proclaiming band names and English words that Mukuro (in his all-knowing sort of way) would chuckle at and mysteriously refuse to translate, some simply sporting strange abstract designs and some with more recognizable animals, skulls, people, and any number of people, places, things. Just this one particular shirt, though, made Chikusa raise an eyebrow as he took in the finer details of it. At first blush, it looked to be another one with the odd, abstract designs... swirls stretching across the expanse of his mid-back, looking something like vines in the way that they curled. And near the center of the odd pattern, the black swirls condensed into words in some archaic font. “Carpe Arseum.” He recognized “Carpe” -- that was Latin, like that phrase “Carpe Diem,” “Seize the day.” ‘Arseum’ took a bit more thought. But after picking it apart, it dawned on him, and he had to question whether or not Ken knew its meaning. Especially considering the company they often kept, and how often he seemed to be wearing that shirt.
Yet, Chikusa decided against bringing it up. He simply waited, to see what would become of it.
And something did come of it. Heading back home from a grocery trip, the two boys were packed onto a train, standing near the doors and, though their experiences as assassins wouldn’t let them be blissfully unaware of the surrounding passengers, they continued to debate whether or not gum and soda were viable ‘emergency food provisions’ or not as if they were. And then Ken stopped mid-argument to make a strange noise, and whirled on the laughing, garishly-dressed teenager behind him yelping, “Did you just grab my ass, pyon?!”
Chikusa sighed heavily and dragged Ken off at the next stop, not wishing to get involved any further in the scene that his companion had stirred up.
Prompt Eighteen (Done~! <3)
02/09/10
They've been doing it for years, its okay, they know they don't mean what they're saying. But why has it changed, why is it suddenly really not okay...
A disparaging comment, followed by a quick retort in a monotonous voice, leading to one or many knives piercing Fran’s skin and an unconvincing “Bel-sempai, that hurts.” It was as if they were actors, repeating their well-rehearsed lines for crowd after crowd, venue after venue. They’d fallen into this pattern, thinking nothing of it, as if it were merely a habit… like how Belphegor would always brush the left side of his hair first, or how Fran would puff out his cheeks when he was annoyed. Thoughtless, mindless activities that filled the empty spaces of the day. And then something changed. Belphegor’s insults had more of a sexual, flirtatious undertone to them. Fran’s retorts had him fighting a blush. The knives lessened and didn’t dig as deep, and sometimes, Bel would merely drag the pieces of metal across Fran’s skin, eyes tracing the line of blood from behind a curtain of blonde hair. The encounters came more and more often, more and more when they were alone. They were no longer static, rehearsed; somewhere, a line had been forgotten and ad-libbed, and the two ran with their newfound freedom.
A hand on his cheek, and Fran turned his eyes up to Belphegor, uncertain about finding the prince in his personal room. Bel smiled - Fran had noticed the difference between the smiles and the psychotic grins that preceded general havoc - and leaned in, pressing his mouth over Fran’s, mouth moving expertly in a way that made the illusionist wonder who the prince had learned from.
And then the lips were gone from his, and Fran forgot to fight a blush, mouthing the prince’s name rather than “fallen prince”. No knives appeared in Bel’s hands, but those hands remained dangerous, stroking over the green-haired male’s face in fluttering touches that made the dubbed “froggy’s” heart beat faster.
There was the sound of stomping footsteps in the hall, and the prince’s hands were pulled away, a warning dropping from those lips, “Tell no one!”
The door swung open, crashing against the wall, and Squalo ordered them to stop fucking around and get ready for a mission.
Prompt Nineteen (Done~! <3)
“Give me back my book”
“What is it? You've been glued to this for days...”
“Give it to me. Now.”
“I'm just looking, I'll give it straight back after I've-oh my god!”
Ken sat on the floor of the Kokuyo gang’s run down clubhouse, legs crossed and hands on his ankles, his eyes boring holes into the beanie-covered head of his companion, Chikusa. Chikusa, for his part, was wholly unaffected by the boy’s staring. He simply kept his head bowed, reading his book quietly.
“Oi!” Ken barked, and Chikusa would have twitched with surprise, were he not so accustomed to Ken’s loud and often random outbursts. Instead, he merely ignored him.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the boy squirm in his spot, like a puppy that had been told to ‘stay.’ There was a moment of silence, and then Ken called out again.
“Oi, Kakipi!”
Chikusa’s eye twitched a little at the ridiculous nickname he’d acquired. He imagined that if he didn’t answer, the blonde would just keep yelling, so he replied with a quiet, “I’m busy, Ken.”
The blonde made a noise, not unlike a dog’s whine, and questioned, “With what? What are you reading?”
Chikusa turned a page and didn’t respond.
“Kakipi~!”
Chikusa studied the illustration on the page, eyes drifting through the sketched lines. Ken started to stand, and Chikusa spoke smoothly, “Sit, Ken.”
The blonde plopped back down on his rear, blinking, “What?”
“Stay there.”
Ken stared at him from his spot on the floor, until finally he grew bored and stood with a ‘Che.’ This time, Chikusa just ignored him, figuring he’d given up.
A hand grabbed the top of his book and yanked, pulling it away from the glasses-wearing boy’s hands. Chikusa looked up at Ken, eyes narrowed as he warned, “Give me back my book.”
“What is it, pyon? You’ve been glued to it for days…” Ken dangled it from his fingers teasingly, daring the other to take it away.
“Give it to me. Now.” Chikusa brought out his yo-yo, hand poised ready to flick it out, ally or not.
Ken’s brown eyes rolled to the ceiling as he proclaimed, “I’m just looking, pyon! You’ll get it back after-“
He laid eyes on the open page, and his jaw went slack for a moment. Calm before the storm, Chikusa thought.
“What the hell is this, Kakipi?!” The dog boy pointed at the cover, proclaiming in bright yellow words, ‘Care and Training of Your Puppy.’ “You don’t have a dog, pyon!”
Chikusa leaned back, adjusting his glasses, but didn’t say anything as Ken flipped through the pages, perhaps thinking the cover had been a ruse. He paused at Chikusa’s bookmark, eyes scanning the chapter title.
Chikusa held out his empty hand, “Ken.” The blonde looked up, “Give it.” His other hand held up his yo-yo as a warning.
“Hmph, here.” He thrust the book back into Chikusa’s hand, paused as he realized something, and shouted, “Hey! I’m not a fucking dog, pyon!”
Chikusa held his book in one hand and adjusted his glasses with his other, a small smirk on his lips, “Ken, speak.”
“I said I’m Not. A. Dog. Pyon!”
Prompt Twenty (Done~! <3)
01/07/10
The sea is for frolicking.
Dino remembered when he was young, and his father would take him riding on one of the many horses he kept. His father had always had a particular affinity for horses, passed down from his own father. Dino’s own mother had been a stablehand at the Cavallone’s stables, in fact. The story went that the two of them would take off with a pair of horses as soon as her chores were done and run off for the beach, galloping their horses through the surf until sunset and coming back as wet and covered in sand as their mounts.
Dino had always thought that he would one day take his wife galloping through the surf, like his parents had done in their younger years. It was silly, but in his mind, he would reserve that ride for only his true love.
When Tsuna came to Italy on one of his business meetings, Dino made sure he was there to greet him and Gokudera at the airport. They exchanged greetings, and Dino insisted they take his car to their hotel. That was the last he got to see of his ‘younger brother’ for awhile; Tsuna was wrapped up in business for the majority of the week, and much to Dino’s chagrin, that left little time for them to hang out.
When Tsuna finally did find some free time, on his last day in Italy, Dino was determined to make the tired Vongola boss enjoy it. They met at Dino’s mansion and, perched on a white marble porch overlooking and expanse of green pasture with the sea beyond that, they sipped lemonade, chatting idly about this and that as the sun sunk in the sky.
And then, the idle question, “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
Tsuna looked up in thought, and laughed a little, “Just a pony at some festival.”
Dino smiled, placing his emptied glass on the tray and plucking Tsuna’s from his hands, “Come on, I’ll show you how.”
The young boss’s eyes widened in wonder as a stablehand brought forth a deep mahogany-colored horse with a black mane and tail, and black on its legs. It walked quietly, not showing any sign of malice despite its size. Behind him, Dino was already leading out his own white horse, and the stablehand gave him a smile, passing the reins to the Vongola’s boss’s hands before disappearing back down the hall.
A short lesson in front of the barn later, Dino and his horse, Grazia, led the way with Tsuna and Adelaide picking their way behind them. Dino glanced back, smiling broadly and slowing his horse to let Tsuna catch up.
“Wanna go a little faster?” he questioned, eyes shining. Tsuna looked ahead of them, admiring the expanse of sand and sea, the sun just beginning to drop behind the waves, and found himself nodding with the same infectious smile.
Dino kicked his horse into a gallop first, the large animal moving quickly into a powerful stride, throwing up sand behind it. Tsuna’s horse followed suit, throwing its head up and whinnying to its herdmate.
As the sun dipped into the sea, the waves seeming to slowly put out the flames of the huge orb, the two men and their two horses galloped down the beach and through the surf, laughing and hollering, and long after dark, they turned the sea-salt and sand covered horses over to the sleepily smiling stable help and stumbled back to the mansion, all smiles and laughs.
A/N: I've kinda always envisioned Dino as living in some mansion with a stable of horses, even before his Sky Horse showed up.
By the way, the horses' names are both Italian -- 'Grazia' means 'Grace', 'Adelaide' means something like 'Noble Sort'. In case you cared. :p
Prompt Twenty-One (Done~! <3)
01/09/10
It's small, wrapped in layers of bubble-wrap and tape. The brown paper has been tightly folded and pinned in place with securely fastened string. There's no note with it, no sticker on the paper or address, it’s just sitting there, waiting for him to open.
Gokudera stares at the small package, settled on his kitchen table where he’d relocated it to, and contemplates it as he smokes. It has some weight to it, but is still fairly light, and when shaken, something solid and metal slides and clinks. He doesn’t recall ordering anything recently, and can’t think of anyone in particular that might leave something on his doorstep other than, perhaps, an adoring fangirl. They were frightening, yet not overtly dangerous. Finally, he reached out and plucked it off the table top, deft fingers flipping open a small pocket knife and severing the string. He picked at the paper and peeled it away, revealing a rather plain white box. Pausing a moment to inspect the exterior of it for any sign of who it may’ve come from, he finally resigned to opening the box and peering inside.
Blinking once, then again, he plucked the object from its container and dangled before himself a shining pair of handcuffs, murmuring around his cigarette, “What the hell?”
The next few minutes he spent scouring the entirety of the packaging to discover any clue he could about the sender, and came up with nothing for his efforts. Eventually, he merely chalked it up to a creepy fangirl, and tossed the cuffs back in their box, dropping it on the counter and promptly forgot about them.
Two days later, however, another package appeared, similarly wrapped in a slightly larger box. This one, though, was much lighter, and made no noise when he shook it. Reservations gone, he tore it open as soon as he’d gotten inside, and withdrew a piece of dark red cloth… silk, he decided upon closer inspection, and not even imitation. He frowned at it, as if the simple scarf could reveal the mystery sender’s identity.
Another two days later, and a third package appeared. Gokudera had it open before he even stepped inside… the contents made his face redden, and he was quick to hide the small vial with its ridiculously blatant labeling of ‘sexual lubricant’ where no one would find it.
The following week, every two days, another package would show up, none ever hinting towards a sender, but each containing an individual item of a blatantly sexual nature. And then they stopped. He didn’t see another package for four days, and the sudden change made him feel on edge. It was bad enough receiving a small collection of… toys, for a lack of better word, from some stranger who obviously knew where he lived; the whole ordeal, really, was rather nerve-wracking. He was suspicious, careful not to let anyone know about the 'gifts', but careful to watch everyone for any sort of odd behavior. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he walked home alone, and even Tsuna had noticed how jumpy he’d gotten.
On the sixth day of silence from the unknown sender, he’d begun to calm, thinking perhaps it had just been a prank, or the person had lost interest. He was home that night, eating cup ramen in the kitchen as he walked aimlessly through the apartment in his boxers, his hair still dripping from his shower. A knock at the door made him pause mid-slurp, and he eyed the door with annoyance, and a slight hint of paranoia. Swallowing the bite of food, he grabbed a stick of dynamite and slunk up to the door, peering cautiously through the peephole as he yelled, “What do ya want?!”
No one answered, and through the peephole, he couldn’t see anyone. His jaw tensed. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled open the door, sticking his head out into the hallway, but no one was there. Relief washed over him, and he shut the door, chuckling to himself in amusement at his own imagination-run-wild. Until he felt a finger grab at the waistband of his boxers from behind and snap them against his lower back. He made a shriek that he would never admit sounded as girly as it did as he swung around, already readying his lighter to arm himself.
Standing just within arms’ length, Mukuro chuckled at the jumpy Italian, showing no outward signs of malice beyond being in Gokudera’s apartment and not invited. Understandably, then, the bomber was suspicious.
“What the hell-why are you here?!”
“You shouldn’t leave your windows unlocked. It only invites intruders.” Mukuro took a step forward, and Gokudera took a step back.
“Like you.” The boy snapped, retreating another step almost unconsciously. Sarcasm dripping from his voice, he added, “Thanks for the demonstration. Now get the hell out.”
“Why, I couldn’t do that.” Mukuro’s ever-present smile somehow looked convoluted, and Gokudera’s back his the door. The mist guardian finished with, “You’re blocking the door.”
Gokudera’s mouth opened to retort angrily, and he moved to light his stick of dynamite.
Swiftly, Mukuro knocked the bomb from his hand and leaned in, pressing his lips almost violently to the Italian’s and holding his smaller wrists against the door. He stayed there for several long minutes, mouth working to incite a response, but all he got was a growling noise and violent struggling. Readjusting his angle, the taller man slid a leg up between Gokudera’s, making the boy squeak and still, though only for a moment.
Finally, when it was obvious that all he’d get was fierce opposition (and, honestly, he expected no less from the stormy-eyed child), the mist guardian retreated his lips, letting their breaths mingle between their mouths. They locked eyes, one set promising a painful death, the other oozing amusement.
“Did you enjoy my gifts? I couldn’t help but notice that you kept them all.”
Gokudera made a noise like a strangled cat and screamed, “You--! Fuck you, you goddamned pervert! Let go of me! Get out of my house!”
Mukuro’s eyes were lidded as he slipped away, “Well, my intention was to fuck you.” He slipped back out the window as Gokudera spluttered in rage and embarrassment.
Prompt Twenty-Two (incomplete)
Reborn's not the only one with secret passageways...
Prompt Twenty-Three (incomplete)
Not that I'm not highly amused, but why are you standing in my bedroom in just a towel?
Prompt Twenty-Four (incomplete)
“Untuck your skirt out, and man the fuck up!”
Prompt Twenty-Five (The UberPrompt!) (Partially done)
Super-special drabble-prompt of doom! (Fill in your top 10 favorite characters, they can be dead, alive or even from another fandom if you want to x-over, then write a drabble for each question in under 400 words (longer if you want...)! Simples! )
(Since I've got *most* of this one done, and am just stuck on the last few, I'll post what I've got done. :3)
First, my Character list:
1 - Gokudera
2 - Belphegor
3 - Squalo
4 - Dino
5 - Tsuna
6 - Yamamoto
7 - Hibari
8 - XANXUS
9 - Mukuro
10 - Ken
01/05/10
1) 2 (Belphegor) and 3 (Squalo) romance/smut.
Perhaps I should take up swordfighting. Belphegor thought privately, What prince doesn’t know how to wield a sword, after all?
His eyes moved over Squalo’s toned body as the older male moved about the room, picking up odd articles of clothing. Each one he picked up he would give a quick once-over to decipher if it belonged to himself or the blonde who continued to lounge on the soft bed. If it was his own, he’d carry it with him; Bel’s clothing he would toss aside, refusing to wait on the boy like the prince he proclaimed himself.
“VOOOIII! Hey, Brat, where the hell did you throw my shirt?!” The silvery-haired swordfighter finally shouted, turning on the younger one.
Bel rested his cheek on his hand and smiled, “Shishishi~, How should I know~”
The vein on Squalo’s forehead looked like it might burst, and his eyes moved over the room once again, until he spotted them sticking out from beneath the bed. Retrieving them, he cursed when he found them torn to shreds, no doubt thanks to Bel and his overzealousness with those damned knives of his.
“VOOOOIII!! Look at this! How many times do I have to tell you to stop tearing up my clothes, bastard?!” He waved the garment around to illustrate his point, and threw it at his younger lover.
“Stop wearing shirts, then, shishishi~” was Bel’s comment, and to further his point, he began methodically shredding the shirt into small strips of white and throwing them about like confetti.
Squalo’s “VOOOOOIIII!!! YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!!” was heard throughout the Varia headquarters, and the following day, the timid young man who ordered their uniforms could only wonder at why Squalo came to him shirtless demanding that his shirts be made of much sturdier material.
A/N: I'm sorry, that one is kinda weird. T^T Squalo/Bel is a weird pairing.
01/05/10
2) 4 (Dino) has to get a kiss off 9 (Mukuro), how hard can it be?
Dino stared nervously at Mukuro, though he believed he hid it well. Up close, the man really was much more intimidating.
“... Yes?”
“I... um...” the blonde faltered, mouth opening and closing helplessly. Really, how does one tell someone, ‘Hey, I sorta lost a bet and have to kiss you. So, pucker up, dude!’
Mukuro shifted his weight to the other leg and donned an amused expression, “You...?”
“I... was wondering if...” Shit, where was I going with that again?
“Lost a bet, huh?”
Dino started, eyes widening and mouth gaping. Mukuro chuckled, a smirk touching his lips.
“Uh, um, y-yeah, I...” Stop stuttering, you fool! You sound like some teenage kid on his first date!
And then Mukuro leaned in close, eyes half lidded and lips curved into a lazy smile, as he asked, “That didn’t sound very convincing. Are you sure you’re not just here for a kiss?”
Dino’s face turned a bright red, but some shred of dignity (or, perhaps, paralyzing fear.) allowed him to keep himself from backing away.
“That’s not--mmph!“
Mukuro sealed his mouth over Dino’s open one, silencing anything the Bronco may’ve said to the contrary. When the illusionist pulled back, he studied the younger man’s flushed face. Running his tongue over his upper lip, he smiled and commented offhandedly, “Perhaps that nickname isn’t just for show, Bucking Bronco.”
Dino’s face turned cherry red and he retreated from the room with as much of his dignity intact as he could, swearing he’d never make a bet with Reborn ever again.
A/N: You know you seekritly ship Mukuro/Dino~!
3) If 1 (Gokudera) had to take 5 (Tsuna) out to a bar, how would they do it?
01/07/10
“Juudaime!”
Gokudera pushed open the door to Tsuna’s office, voice upbeat and cheery despite his often sullen appearance.
“Oh, Gokudera-kun.” Was the tired response he got from his beloved Tenth. Gokudera’s cheer dissipated into a worried frown as he moved closer to the desk. His green eyes moved over the piles of paperwork, the empty coffee cup, and small plate of barely-touched sandwiches, before finally settling on his boss’s bowed head. Tsuna’s eyes flickered over the last few lines of a paper before him, signed it at the bottom, and set it aside with a tired sigh. His free hand grabbed the coffee cup and brought it to his lips before he noticed that it was empty and staring forlornly at the coffee stains at the bottom of it. Finally, he set it aside and looked up to his right-hand-man, who instantly perked up and donned a smile for his Boss’s sake.
“The guys were heading up to some new bar that opened. Since you’ve been locked up in here all day, you should come with us!” he beamed.
Tsuna was about to smile, and then sunk in his seat, “...Reborn would--”
“He already said it was fine.” Coming around the desk, the Italian grabbed the back of Tsuna’s chair and pulled it out, “Come on, come on!”
Smiling a little at his friend, he gave in, standing and stretching, wincing as his bones creaked back into alignment. Certainly getting out for some fresh air would help get his mind off this paperwork.
Gokudera briskly picked up the dishes and ushered his boss to the door, depositing the dishes on a tray for a maid to pick up later.
When finally everyone was assembled, they passed through the doors of the underground base into a secret door at the back of a boarded-up abandoned building. When they were sure the coast was clear, the small group of guardians and their boss traveled jovially through the streets, led by Ryohei who’d been the one to discover the bar.
Tsuna had lost track of how long they’d been there, and amidst all the activity he had somehow lost track of how many drinks he’d had as well. He wasn’t quite drunk yet, though he could tell at a glance that Yamamoto, Gokudera, and maybe even Ryohei were. Lambo, sitting at his side, had hardly drunk anything at all, it seemed; either that, or he held his alcohol remarkably well.
Ryohei had gotten hold of the karaoke machine, and was belting out some tune that Tsuna was trying his best to block out. Yamamoto and Gokudera were fighting... as usual. Tsuna wasn’t sure what the fight was about, but with all the gesturing and drunkenly-suggestive looks, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Instead, he ordered a glass of water from the barkeep and decided to lay off the alcohol for the night. After all, someone would have to help Lambo haul them all back to the base.
12/30/09
4) 6 (Yamamoto) has a bit of a confession to make, and it’s all to do with 10 (Ken).
The Vongola guardians were gathered together with Ken and Chikusa as Chrome and Tsuna collaborated information on a target. Though Chrome’s ever-present companions kept their distance, Yamamoto couldn’t help staring at the blonde of the pair, Ken Joshima. He reminded him so much of a dog... even without those fang cartridges of his. Just... the way he sat, and growled, and hung his tongue out...
He sheepishly admitted to himself that the dog-boy had taken up much of his thought lately.
For instance, did Ken lap up his water?
Would he fetch a stick? Play with squeaky toys?
Did he like having his belly rubbed?
... Did he prefer it doggy style?
Yamamoto brought a hand up and ducked his head, covering the flash of red that crossed his face. No one seemed to notice.
12/30/09
5) Why is 6 (Yamamoto) afraid of 7 (Hibari)?
There was a crash and the squeal of furniture shoved across the floor.
Yamamoto contemplated his options as he stared at the wooden door of the Namimori disciplinary club room. On the one hand, if the sounds were of Hibari ‘disciplining’ someone, he likely wouldn’t be pleased with an interruption. On the other hand... what if someone were hurt?
“Y-You...” Hibari’s voice, strained and full of venom, “...I’ll bite you to death.”
There was light laughter, unconcerned with the threat (Yamamoto could’ve sworn he’d heard it before), followed by a low voice, indiscernible over the crash of something solid hitting the floor. Something metal clattered and slid across the floor, clunking against the door. There was a moment of quiet, and then heavy breathing.
Yamamoto steeled his nerves and burst through the door, ready to get a tonfa to the face. And then he stopped. Mukuro stood near the middle of the room, in all his naked glory, hand in Hibari’s hair, holding the younger disciplinarian on his knees before him.
Yamamoto’s mouth, opened and closed of its own accord.
“Kufufufu.... Care to join us, child?”
As if he’d really say ‘yes’ and waltz in with Hibari’s glare promising pain enough that Yamamoto’s ancestors may even feel it?
The baseball fanatic slammed the door and vacated the area.
01/05/10
6) This is why they shouldn't fight, things always ended up...messy. (1 (Gokudera) and 10 (Ken))
The wreckage spread all around them -- trees and plants trampled, broken, and burnt, areas of dirt laid bare, even a few smoldering tree branches, still dropping ashes onto the bed of leaves below.
In the center of the wreckage, those responsible for the destruction stood, battle-ready and covered with dirt, sweat, and blood, shouting across the open expanse between them.
Hayato Gokudera, self-proclaimed right hand man of Tsuna, the Tenth Vongola boss, and Ken Joshima, privately proclaimed right-hand-man of Mukuro, leader of the Kokuyo gang, Mafia criminal, and prison escapee.
The aforementioned bosses both stood at the sidelines, Tsuna looking worried and Mukuro smirking lightly.
“They’re quite alike, aren’t they?” The illusionist commented offhandedly.
The two fighters ran at eachother.
Tsuna tried hard to think of a way to stop them before they destroyed the forest, and declined to comment.
Mukuro carried on, though, “So, who do you think is right?” a wicked grin accompanied the question.
Tsuna’s cheeks turned pink, and he stepped forward to yell, “Gokudera--!”
His storm guardian apparently couldn’t hear him. The two were again yelling at eachother, this time close enough that the onlookers could clearly hear them.
“Mukuro-sama’s is defiantly bigger!”
“No way, Juudaime’s is!”
Mukuro started to laugh.
12/30/09
8) 3 (Squalo) has to take 8 (XANXUS) to a bar, how hard can it be?
Squalo glanced from the cowering bartender on the floor to his whiskey-drinking boss, and hopped easily over the counter, retrieving his boss a refill and then searching through the charred remains of alcoholic beverages for a drink for himself. Preferably something that’ll make him drunk, fast. He paused to glance at the bartender and informed him, “Get out of here, and be glad he was in a good mood.”
The bartender didn’t even hesitate to run out of the building. Squalo made a mental note to make sure that Levi would come to regret forgetting to restock the bar at the Varia HQ.
01/05/10
9) “Damn it 4 (Dino), get the hell out of my room! And put some clothes on for heaven’s sake!”
“All right, all right! I'm going! Calm down 7 (Hibari)”
“Now.”
Hibari returned to the Namimori Disciplinary Committee room after patrolling the school grounds, and where he would normally found the room empty, today he found someone else there. Someone wearing nothing but a small towel. His eyes narrowed.
“You. What are you doing here?” a pause and, “And put some clothes on, for heaven’s sake!”
Dino jerked, startled, and put his hands up, “Ah, Kyoya, I was just--!”
“Out! Now!”
“B-But, my clothes--!”
That made Hibari pause. He couldn’t exactly have the idiot running around his school naked and disturbing the peace. And where *were* his clothes, anyway? Hibari’s eyes darted around the room.
Dino sheepishly explained, “My clothes got ruined while I was training with Tsuna... Romario just left to get me a change.”
The prefect set his teeth on edge. So he was stuck with this naked idiot until his subordinate came back? He turned his back on him and skulked towards the desk set against the wall, intent on ignoring the blonde and doing some paperwork.
There was a lull, and then a shadow was cast over the prefect. He grabbed the tonfa laying beside him and automatically struck out at the Bronco. Dino yelped and fell over.
Turning in the swivel chair, Hibari opened his mouth to order the nearly-naked Bronco back to the couch, but stopped, finding himself gaping at the older male who’d sprawled himself across the floor, a hand on his cheek and towel undone.
“Ooow, Kyoya~, I was just going to see if you needed help!”
Averting his eyes from the slipping towel to Dino’s face, the prefect managed to compose himself and say, “Go sit on the couch and stay there, or I’ll throw you out, with or without clothes!”
The Bronco made a show of pouting and getting up, bending to retrieve his towel, and then pacing back to the couch, apparently uncaring of his nudity.
Hibari stared at him throughout, a scowl fixed on his face and forcing his eyes to remain decidedly northbound. When the nearly-nude man finally sat down, Hibari turned back to his work, only to find himself unable to concentrate on it.
When Romario stepped timidly into the room an excruciatingly long half-hour later, Hibari shushed the little voice at the back of his mind that wished the man had taken longer, and made sure to thoroughly bite Dino to death once he was fully clothed.
12/30/09
10) 5 (Tsuna) muses on the best way to make 6 (Yamamoto) shut up.
Tsuna had always thought himself to be quite patient and good-natured. And he’s been trying to listen earnestly as Yamamoto talked about the baseball game his team had won yesterday, even though much of the sound effects the player interjected in place of verbs made no sense at all, and honestly, Tsuna could care less for baseball. Gokudera looked on the verge of tears, he appeared so bored, but Tsuna liked to think he was polite enough to at least feign interest.
However, even he was beginning to wonder when the long-winded story would end. His mind started to wander, and he started to contemplate the best way to get out of this without hurting his rain guardian’s feelings. A movie scene played in his head, a man and a woman in a similar situation. And then Tsuna leaned in and quickly kissed the other boy.
Yamamoto shut up, but in his place, Gokudera started spluttering, loudly. And once the shock wore off, he carried on about, If the tenth just wanted to kiss someone, why’d you pick the baseball idiot over his right hand man?!, and Tsuna wondered if he should kiss the bomber to shut him up as well.
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