July 31_days drabbles
All in all, I think I should probably stop writing these. They're starting to dull idea-wise, and I think the whole drabble sequel of drabbles is pointing to me writing something a little longer...
Title:
1 - He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.
"Zero-san?" Nunally's voice floated through the doorway to his rooms. "Zero-san, are you here?"
He brushed his hair back and put the mask back on. He was reclad in a pair of dark jeans that Lelouch would've been thrilled to see him wear and the same blue jacket he'd worn since forever. Until he saw she was unaccompanied, he would keep the mask on.
He stepped out into his living area just as she passed the armchair. There was no one with her, so he closed the door and took the handles of her chair. Lifting his little princess up, he sat her down in her regular chair - pink with a comfortable wooden frill at the top that was perfect for her when she wanted to lean back and sigh at the world in general. With quick hands he put the hot water on and prepared tea for them both.
"I got another message from Cornellia. She said Area Seven's going really well, though they know her real identity now. They said they're still suspicious, but there's so many Chinese in the dismantling group that all she ever does in the planning center is twiddle her thumbs and wait for it to get finished."
"At least it's not rioting like we thought they would."
Nunally beamed. "Yes, that's the kind of prediction I love to hear overturned."
He set the cup in front of her and immediately she took a sip. "The chrysanthemum tea from Li?"
"You were talking about Seven, after all."
"You went to Ougi-san's speech today?" She bit into one of the rusk biscuits he set out next to the tea.
"Yes." He was still Zero, after all.
"What did you think?"
What did he think. What would you say, Lelouch? He was plenty smart, but he couldn't see through other people's plans as clearly as Lelouch could. He could only foil them one by one as they came forth. He would do so for Nunally, as long as she lived.
He tried to think impassively about it. "I think it's too bold. Too soon."
"Too sweet," she agreed.
"The rusk?" he asked, confused.
"Him. Ougi-san."
"Do you think he'll only become muddled as his son gets older?"
Nunally cradled her hands around the cup and smiled sadly. "I'm hoping he doesn't." But her face said that he might. "At least the term's not as long as it used to be." It'd been shortened to ten years, instead of a lifetime of service.
She sighed and took her favorite position, tilting her head back against the chair. Suzaku never really got why she liked that chair so much. That wasn't the best position in the chair either; the wood always cut into his neck weirdly when he tried it. Yet Nunally made it look so natural, like she'd been doing it since forever.
"What do you think Nii-san would've done?"
It was funny how a year ago neither of them could bear to say his name. Now, he had confirmation their every step was still haunted by Lelouch's dogged ghost. But it wasn't a bad thing, not anymore. Just sad. With time Lelouch's bitter betrayals and lies had faded too, until only a strained, echoing sweetness remained on the tongue.
"I don't think he would stop Ougi just yet." He always valued extreme actions, though in another breath, he also had no choice.
"Do you think it was worth it? His gamble?" she asked softly.
He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were. How Lelouch was never only sweet or innocent or protective. That he had been complicated and possessive and so, so torn between his own heart and the ones who had taken bits and pieces of it, until he had no more to give. He too, had been greedy - he'd wanted to believe that his best friend had been good, that he saw the same light - but instead he'd taken it away and killed her and he knew why but it wasn't right, hadn't been right ever since.
He stared down into his cup, at the ripples that fluttered across the surface. She knew this. She was his sister, sweet, but she wasn't dumb. She had inherited that intellect, that keen observation. And she was asking him now, as they hadn't dared to ask each other since Suzaku had taken that sword and slid it so cleanly, so easily into Lelouch's chest.
It was as easy as Lelouch's gasps as Suzaku took him from behind, from the front, in the shower and the training room and in the hangar, in their palace and at school and on the couch in Lelouch's old borrowed house. It was as easy as burying himself in the one place that felt real in the end. It was as easy as taking books of his old dreams and tossing the match on top.
He was still watching those flames burn, mesmerized. He still couldn't take his eyes away from Lelouch's brilliance, from the part he'd played so flawless, devoid of fear even to Suzaku. He envied Lelouch sometimes - absolved by other and by himself in death - the way his feelings had taken spark violently, consuming everything in its path. People had died, Suzaku knew. People had cried.
She was still staring at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. "We have to believe it was enough," he said slowly in the end. "Or else we'd have to say he should've lived to do more."
He envied her and her tears too, this whole family of emotional wrecks. Suzaku's - Zero's - heart had long turned to ash and charcoal. The flames he burned weren't warm and bright like Lelouch's had been. These were black, solid, and cold.
Fandom: Code Geass (and R2 too, I guess)
Pairing: Nunally + Suzaku
Rating: G
Notes: here's to branching out into new fandoms...AGAIN...
Title:
2 - looking at monsters is a centuries-old ritual
"You are totally pulling my leg," Kagami grunted over his fifth burger. Kuroko didn't reply, other to give his shake a very gurgly last sip. Eyes narrowing, Kagami gave him a suspicious sniff and very deliberately crinkled his wrapped into a tiny ball. Either his dining partner didn't notice in favor of his now empty cup, or chose not to give Kagami any sign that he was anything more than wallpaper.
"She does make people around her have irrational bouts of feeling."
"Because the things she asks of us are sometimes impossible."
"And talking."
"To complain about the ridiculousness she puts us through."
"They are recurring experiences."
"Because she's crazy." Kagami finished sixth and seventh in a very steady manner that showed no signs of slowing down. "Last week she asked us to climb up a thousand steps by leapfrog."
"She's also quite the traditionalist."
"That doesn't have anything with being an oni."
"She's overexhausting us in order to plant some sort of evil humor upon the whole team."
"Don't you think if she wanted to do that, then she would've done it already? And no matter how I look at it, she's still strengthening our bodies." However his body ached yesterday from the abuse, after a night of rest he could feel his muscles stretching better, in ways that he wanted them to feel.
Kuroko had been looking out the window for the last part of the conversation, but now he looked straight at him. "How can you be sure I'm wrong?"
Kagami snorted. "Looking at monsters is a centuries-old ritual, and That One in particular liked to find them. I think I'd feel it by now if she meant to do anything but contort her basketball team into better players."
"And if I'm wrong?" Those eyes were piercing, weighing on him.
What if he was wrong? Then they would've joined the basketball team for nothing. But you've got a reason to play now, said a whisper in the back of his head. Tatsuya can't stop you if you're protecting someone.
And then of course there was Kuroko, who burned with a quiet intensity on the court that didn't have anything to do with Kagami's wheels. How he could dim his presence and then brighten it again was a source of hidden fascination for Kagami, who'd never seen a shade employ their invisibility in such an effective way before.
"We'll stay," he decided, and pretended not to see the palpable relief in Kuroko's eyes. "There might be someone else who shouldn't be there. We should probably broaden the search again."
"I'll help you," Kuroko offered sincerely. He thought he might be getting better at reading that never-changing face. Guilt came creeping in, not because he'd broken his promise to Himuro, but because he had the sneaking suspicion that a big part of him was doing this because both he and Kuroko loved the game. Maybe more Kuroko, because he wasn't someone who could hold his own alone.
Either way, they could only wait to see what happened next.
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket
Pairing: Kagami + Kuroko
Rating: G
Notes: sequel to this little baby though geez...I kind of want to write a supernatural fic because that seems to be the whole craze on the comm right now...but geez would that make me a poser or what...
Title:
3 - "You're an artist," he says.
When he awakens blearily, his eyes crack open and fix on the ceiling of the clubhouse. It'd been cracked and flaking paint before, but now it'd been newly painted over in white, to give the room a more spacious glow (though honestly, Sena didn't see much difference).
There was nothing but the sound of the AC and the sound of soft scraping as something was pushed across the table. The space next to him had long cooled; Hiruma had probably taken his shower a long time ago. Sena tended to nod off after they did it, and Hiruma let him rest. The only time he'd shoved him into the smelly locker room was one time when Mamori-neechan came knocking on around midnight to give Hiruma some papers.
He could barely see the lines on the green field from this angle. Hiruma's face was sharp and intent as he shuffled the little characters around in play after play after play. Under the covers Sena flexed his hands; suddenly, he really wanted to play.
Something about his movement or restless state of mind made Hiruma look up. "Chibi," he grunted, and with a drone he flipped the microwave on. "Call your parents."
Sena was already reaching for the phone. "...hey Mom. Yeah, I'm staying over. Yeah, I know. Uh-huh. See you tomorrow." Thankfully his mother never questioned just which friend's house he was at; both his parents were rather laissez-faire with their one and only son. It worked out pretty well, though Sena thought sadly that that might all change soon.
He opened his mouth to ask What bento did you get me? or Hiruma-san...what's going to happen once you go off to college?, but instead what came out was, "You're an artist, Hiruma-san." He remembered how they'd watched him move the pieces into real strategy, seeing the tricks in his head, knowing their strengths and weaknesses. He remembered the wonder that he'd thought, the first time he'd seen everything fall into place - how strong Hiruma was, how smart and how brave. How much trust he had in all of them.
The microwave dinged as Hiruma glanced up at him suspiciously. "What're you talking about, chibi?"
The smile spread slowly over his face. The bed - Hiruma's bed - was safe and warm and his scent surrounded him. "You make it all come true so easily," he said. "Like magic."
"No magic, runt," Hiruma countered, turning attention back to the board. "Get up and eat your dinner. Hope you like salmon." And there fell the axe on their little conversation.
Eventually he did get up and eat his cold dinner, but not before his smile coaxed Hiruma back into bed for the second time that night.
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: HiruSena
Rating: PG for implied smex?
Notes: GAH I said I'd never write for this fandom again...
Title:
It's an arrangement now.
He spends most of his days dark-skinned, his hair falling in his eyes all curly and his smile deadly. His voice is like velvet and hidden, tied, chained to his stone chair Allen crouches down and watches as it takes Johnny a full week before he can get close enough to examine Neah, his fingers prodding gently, his brain ticking behind his thick glasses.
Behind him Kanda stands with his arm barely touching Neah's back, and in the dark Allen imagines he can feel his uncomfortable stone seat warming.
Neah spends his days taunting the Earl, dancing away from his old nemesis and once-savior Tyki, indulging his younger (older?) sibling Rhode, and running from the curly-haired Father who smiles so kindly and wants nothing more than watch both Allen and Neah dribble like so much muddy water down a drain. The two of them have a mutual dislike for the man-who-smiles, and agree running is the best route to survive.
Neah, with his honeyed words, his honest smile that fairly sizzles with charisma, lets Allen see out of his eyes as they go about their daily lives - Neah who plays poker, Kanda who watches him con every last shirt and coin off of unwary poker players, Johnny who is the only one out of the three of them who actually finds some sort of temporary employment. Sometimes he lets Allen out so he can don the clown suit and juggle for money. Those are the presents he leaves for the boy - his captor, his body, and unwilling waltz partner.
Other times Allen feels like he's going insane in his head, talking to himself when no one hears, and Neah let him surface for a bit while he sleeps. Kanda, who practically sits on him like some gorgeous guard-dog, always shoots him an evil eye as if to ask, How'd you make him let you come out? where Allen only answers, "He knows when I need it."
Then they check the shutters, check the door, Kanda sets Mugen down as he brings Allen's face close and kisses him. Johnny is often out during these times - Neah knows, he always knows what Allen wants - so it's no big deal to push the so-called beansprout down into the worn sheets, driving into that sweet, dark, wet place until his lover can't do anything but sob and scream his name.
Afterwards Allen murmurs drowsy nonsense about things he saw and thought about since the last time he came up for air, and Kanda only strokes the back of his head in reply. After a while he goes back to sleep, but it's only an hour or two before the skin turns dark and Neah wakes in his arms, sometimes kissing him indulgently on the cheek before strolling of shamelessly to clean up in their ratty bathroom.
By the time Johnny gets home, Neah has managed to make enough dinner for a small army and looks intent on inhaling all of it in one nauseating go, and Kanda has showered and is appropriately dressed so the once-scientist never suspects how deep their relationship goes.
But all three of them can feel it in their bones. This is only a temporary place. It isn't peace, not by a long shot; but all the same a truce in sharing bodies has been struck. Even Johnny knows it won't last forever, not with everyone connected to the supernatural world chasing them around the globe.
This is only the breath of oxygen before the plunge.
Fandom: D.Grayman
Pairing: Yullen
Rating: R...?
Notes: Lol more D.Gray
Title:
17 - he told me many times "I love you."
The quiet was no friend of mine.
I know other people think I wrap myself in it, muffled in mystery. But I'm no demon and no true shadow that doesn't speak, doesn't think. I hear and rationalize and I want to believe I'm my own person, one who's capable of defending themselves and finding a niche in other people's lives so I could be recognized by them.
Silence doesn't do anything to help that.
I thought I'd had it down. I thought I'd found people who saw me, no matter if it was tainted with dislike, or envy, or love. I thought that they'd always see me clearly, like summer clouds against the blue sky. But slowly they only saw themselves: their love, their hate, their neutrality. The indifference and the mutual use-and-be-used mentality left me standing alone in a crowd of people, wondering what I was doing here on the court with strangers that only superficially looked like my friends.
Power and pride had warped them. My...family. The ones I loved.
They'd said to me so many times, I love you, my head was so full of it it felt like it was being squeezed out of my ears. There I was, the little one that kept his head. Those things that they'd lost, I'd hoarded like treasure, until all I could see at night was how gently brutal neutrality could be.
In their minds they shot forward to future flawless performances. My feelings were just bylines in a script.
Kise had said I chose him because he was just like Aomine. Instinctively, maybe I had sought for that familiar duplicity: gruff forgiveness with unstoppable potential, strength tempered with awkward tenderness.
He didn't say anything when I kissed him, lay him down. When I got on him, rode him until he was left gasping and panting, his hands like vises on my hips. Even in the moments we kissed, trembling, spilling passion into the dark, he said nothing as his arms closed around me and kept the silence at bay with repetitions of my name on his lips.
He made no promises, even with his body. When he leaned away, I could read him scared and apprehensive yet gung-ho for more. Naive. Letting himself be used, letting me lead him through my own redemption.
This one can do it, I really began to believe. He can bring back what I lost.
This time for sure, I'd chosen right.
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket
Pairing: Kagami/Kuroko
Rating: PG...for implied shmex
Notes: first time in Kuroko POV...yeaaah I should probably stop making him so flowery...
Title:
1 - He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were.
"Zero-san?" Nunally's voice floated through the doorway to his rooms. "Zero-san, are you here?"
He brushed his hair back and put the mask back on. He was reclad in a pair of dark jeans that Lelouch would've been thrilled to see him wear and the same blue jacket he'd worn since forever. Until he saw she was unaccompanied, he would keep the mask on.
He stepped out into his living area just as she passed the armchair. There was no one with her, so he closed the door and took the handles of her chair. Lifting his little princess up, he sat her down in her regular chair - pink with a comfortable wooden frill at the top that was perfect for her when she wanted to lean back and sigh at the world in general. With quick hands he put the hot water on and prepared tea for them both.
"I got another message from Cornellia. She said Area Seven's going really well, though they know her real identity now. They said they're still suspicious, but there's so many Chinese in the dismantling group that all she ever does in the planning center is twiddle her thumbs and wait for it to get finished."
"At least it's not rioting like we thought they would."
Nunally beamed. "Yes, that's the kind of prediction I love to hear overturned."
He set the cup in front of her and immediately she took a sip. "The chrysanthemum tea from Li?"
"You were talking about Seven, after all."
"You went to Ougi-san's speech today?" She bit into one of the rusk biscuits he set out next to the tea.
"Yes." He was still Zero, after all.
"What did you think?"
What did he think. What would you say, Lelouch? He was plenty smart, but he couldn't see through other people's plans as clearly as Lelouch could. He could only foil them one by one as they came forth. He would do so for Nunally, as long as she lived.
He tried to think impassively about it. "I think it's too bold. Too soon."
"Too sweet," she agreed.
"The rusk?" he asked, confused.
"Him. Ougi-san."
"Do you think he'll only become muddled as his son gets older?"
Nunally cradled her hands around the cup and smiled sadly. "I'm hoping he doesn't." But her face said that he might. "At least the term's not as long as it used to be." It'd been shortened to ten years, instead of a lifetime of service.
She sighed and took her favorite position, tilting her head back against the chair. Suzaku never really got why she liked that chair so much. That wasn't the best position in the chair either; the wood always cut into his neck weirdly when he tried it. Yet Nunally made it look so natural, like she'd been doing it since forever.
"What do you think Nii-san would've done?"
It was funny how a year ago neither of them could bear to say his name. Now, he had confirmation their every step was still haunted by Lelouch's dogged ghost. But it wasn't a bad thing, not anymore. Just sad. With time Lelouch's bitter betrayals and lies had faded too, until only a strained, echoing sweetness remained on the tongue.
"I don't think he would stop Ougi just yet." He always valued extreme actions, though in another breath, he also had no choice.
"Do you think it was worth it? His gamble?" she asked softly.
He wanted to explain how people were never quite what you thought they were. How Lelouch was never only sweet or innocent or protective. That he had been complicated and possessive and so, so torn between his own heart and the ones who had taken bits and pieces of it, until he had no more to give. He too, had been greedy - he'd wanted to believe that his best friend had been good, that he saw the same light - but instead he'd taken it away and killed her and he knew why but it wasn't right, hadn't been right ever since.
He stared down into his cup, at the ripples that fluttered across the surface. She knew this. She was his sister, sweet, but she wasn't dumb. She had inherited that intellect, that keen observation. And she was asking him now, as they hadn't dared to ask each other since Suzaku had taken that sword and slid it so cleanly, so easily into Lelouch's chest.
It was as easy as Lelouch's gasps as Suzaku took him from behind, from the front, in the shower and the training room and in the hangar, in their palace and at school and on the couch in Lelouch's old borrowed house. It was as easy as burying himself in the one place that felt real in the end. It was as easy as taking books of his old dreams and tossing the match on top.
He was still watching those flames burn, mesmerized. He still couldn't take his eyes away from Lelouch's brilliance, from the part he'd played so flawless, devoid of fear even to Suzaku. He envied Lelouch sometimes - absolved by other and by himself in death - the way his feelings had taken spark violently, consuming everything in its path. People had died, Suzaku knew. People had cried.
She was still staring at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. "We have to believe it was enough," he said slowly in the end. "Or else we'd have to say he should've lived to do more."
He envied her and her tears too, this whole family of emotional wrecks. Suzaku's - Zero's - heart had long turned to ash and charcoal. The flames he burned weren't warm and bright like Lelouch's had been. These were black, solid, and cold.
Fandom: Code Geass (and R2 too, I guess)
Pairing: Nunally + Suzaku
Rating: G
Notes: here's to branching out into new fandoms...AGAIN...
Title:
2 - looking at monsters is a centuries-old ritual
"You are totally pulling my leg," Kagami grunted over his fifth burger. Kuroko didn't reply, other to give his shake a very gurgly last sip. Eyes narrowing, Kagami gave him a suspicious sniff and very deliberately crinkled his wrapped into a tiny ball. Either his dining partner didn't notice in favor of his now empty cup, or chose not to give Kagami any sign that he was anything more than wallpaper.
"She does make people around her have irrational bouts of feeling."
"Because the things she asks of us are sometimes impossible."
"And talking."
"To complain about the ridiculousness she puts us through."
"They are recurring experiences."
"Because she's crazy." Kagami finished sixth and seventh in a very steady manner that showed no signs of slowing down. "Last week she asked us to climb up a thousand steps by leapfrog."
"She's also quite the traditionalist."
"That doesn't have anything with being an oni."
"She's overexhausting us in order to plant some sort of evil humor upon the whole team."
"Don't you think if she wanted to do that, then she would've done it already? And no matter how I look at it, she's still strengthening our bodies." However his body ached yesterday from the abuse, after a night of rest he could feel his muscles stretching better, in ways that he wanted them to feel.
Kuroko had been looking out the window for the last part of the conversation, but now he looked straight at him. "How can you be sure I'm wrong?"
Kagami snorted. "Looking at monsters is a centuries-old ritual, and That One in particular liked to find them. I think I'd feel it by now if she meant to do anything but contort her basketball team into better players."
"And if I'm wrong?" Those eyes were piercing, weighing on him.
What if he was wrong? Then they would've joined the basketball team for nothing. But you've got a reason to play now, said a whisper in the back of his head. Tatsuya can't stop you if you're protecting someone.
And then of course there was Kuroko, who burned with a quiet intensity on the court that didn't have anything to do with Kagami's wheels. How he could dim his presence and then brighten it again was a source of hidden fascination for Kagami, who'd never seen a shade employ their invisibility in such an effective way before.
"We'll stay," he decided, and pretended not to see the palpable relief in Kuroko's eyes. "There might be someone else who shouldn't be there. We should probably broaden the search again."
"I'll help you," Kuroko offered sincerely. He thought he might be getting better at reading that never-changing face. Guilt came creeping in, not because he'd broken his promise to Himuro, but because he had the sneaking suspicion that a big part of him was doing this because both he and Kuroko loved the game. Maybe more Kuroko, because he wasn't someone who could hold his own alone.
Either way, they could only wait to see what happened next.
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket
Pairing: Kagami + Kuroko
Rating: G
Notes: sequel to this little baby though geez...I kind of want to write a supernatural fic because that seems to be the whole craze on the comm right now...but geez would that make me a poser or what...
Title:
3 - "You're an artist," he says.
When he awakens blearily, his eyes crack open and fix on the ceiling of the clubhouse. It'd been cracked and flaking paint before, but now it'd been newly painted over in white, to give the room a more spacious glow (though honestly, Sena didn't see much difference).
There was nothing but the sound of the AC and the sound of soft scraping as something was pushed across the table. The space next to him had long cooled; Hiruma had probably taken his shower a long time ago. Sena tended to nod off after they did it, and Hiruma let him rest. The only time he'd shoved him into the smelly locker room was one time when Mamori-neechan came knocking on around midnight to give Hiruma some papers.
He could barely see the lines on the green field from this angle. Hiruma's face was sharp and intent as he shuffled the little characters around in play after play after play. Under the covers Sena flexed his hands; suddenly, he really wanted to play.
Something about his movement or restless state of mind made Hiruma look up. "Chibi," he grunted, and with a drone he flipped the microwave on. "Call your parents."
Sena was already reaching for the phone. "...hey Mom. Yeah, I'm staying over. Yeah, I know. Uh-huh. See you tomorrow." Thankfully his mother never questioned just which friend's house he was at; both his parents were rather laissez-faire with their one and only son. It worked out pretty well, though Sena thought sadly that that might all change soon.
He opened his mouth to ask What bento did you get me? or Hiruma-san...what's going to happen once you go off to college?, but instead what came out was, "You're an artist, Hiruma-san." He remembered how they'd watched him move the pieces into real strategy, seeing the tricks in his head, knowing their strengths and weaknesses. He remembered the wonder that he'd thought, the first time he'd seen everything fall into place - how strong Hiruma was, how smart and how brave. How much trust he had in all of them.
The microwave dinged as Hiruma glanced up at him suspiciously. "What're you talking about, chibi?"
The smile spread slowly over his face. The bed - Hiruma's bed - was safe and warm and his scent surrounded him. "You make it all come true so easily," he said. "Like magic."
"No magic, runt," Hiruma countered, turning attention back to the board. "Get up and eat your dinner. Hope you like salmon." And there fell the axe on their little conversation.
Eventually he did get up and eat his cold dinner, but not before his smile coaxed Hiruma back into bed for the second time that night.
Fandom: Eyeshield 21
Pairing: HiruSena
Rating: PG for implied smex?
Notes: GAH I said I'd never write for this fandom again...
Title:
It's an arrangement now.
He spends most of his days dark-skinned, his hair falling in his eyes all curly and his smile deadly. His voice is like velvet and hidden, tied, chained to his stone chair Allen crouches down and watches as it takes Johnny a full week before he can get close enough to examine Neah, his fingers prodding gently, his brain ticking behind his thick glasses.
Behind him Kanda stands with his arm barely touching Neah's back, and in the dark Allen imagines he can feel his uncomfortable stone seat warming.
Neah spends his days taunting the Earl, dancing away from his old nemesis and once-savior Tyki, indulging his younger (older?) sibling Rhode, and running from the curly-haired Father who smiles so kindly and wants nothing more than watch both Allen and Neah dribble like so much muddy water down a drain. The two of them have a mutual dislike for the man-who-smiles, and agree running is the best route to survive.
Neah, with his honeyed words, his honest smile that fairly sizzles with charisma, lets Allen see out of his eyes as they go about their daily lives - Neah who plays poker, Kanda who watches him con every last shirt and coin off of unwary poker players, Johnny who is the only one out of the three of them who actually finds some sort of temporary employment. Sometimes he lets Allen out so he can don the clown suit and juggle for money. Those are the presents he leaves for the boy - his captor, his body, and unwilling waltz partner.
Other times Allen feels like he's going insane in his head, talking to himself when no one hears, and Neah let him surface for a bit while he sleeps. Kanda, who practically sits on him like some gorgeous guard-dog, always shoots him an evil eye as if to ask, How'd you make him let you come out? where Allen only answers, "He knows when I need it."
Then they check the shutters, check the door, Kanda sets Mugen down as he brings Allen's face close and kisses him. Johnny is often out during these times - Neah knows, he always knows what Allen wants - so it's no big deal to push the so-called beansprout down into the worn sheets, driving into that sweet, dark, wet place until his lover can't do anything but sob and scream his name.
Afterwards Allen murmurs drowsy nonsense about things he saw and thought about since the last time he came up for air, and Kanda only strokes the back of his head in reply. After a while he goes back to sleep, but it's only an hour or two before the skin turns dark and Neah wakes in his arms, sometimes kissing him indulgently on the cheek before strolling of shamelessly to clean up in their ratty bathroom.
By the time Johnny gets home, Neah has managed to make enough dinner for a small army and looks intent on inhaling all of it in one nauseating go, and Kanda has showered and is appropriately dressed so the once-scientist never suspects how deep their relationship goes.
But all three of them can feel it in their bones. This is only a temporary place. It isn't peace, not by a long shot; but all the same a truce in sharing bodies has been struck. Even Johnny knows it won't last forever, not with everyone connected to the supernatural world chasing them around the globe.
This is only the breath of oxygen before the plunge.
Fandom: D.Grayman
Pairing: Yullen
Rating: R...?
Notes: Lol more D.Gray
Title:
17 - he told me many times "I love you."
The quiet was no friend of mine.
I know other people think I wrap myself in it, muffled in mystery. But I'm no demon and no true shadow that doesn't speak, doesn't think. I hear and rationalize and I want to believe I'm my own person, one who's capable of defending themselves and finding a niche in other people's lives so I could be recognized by them.
Silence doesn't do anything to help that.
I thought I'd had it down. I thought I'd found people who saw me, no matter if it was tainted with dislike, or envy, or love. I thought that they'd always see me clearly, like summer clouds against the blue sky. But slowly they only saw themselves: their love, their hate, their neutrality. The indifference and the mutual use-and-be-used mentality left me standing alone in a crowd of people, wondering what I was doing here on the court with strangers that only superficially looked like my friends.
Power and pride had warped them. My...family. The ones I loved.
They'd said to me so many times, I love you, my head was so full of it it felt like it was being squeezed out of my ears. There I was, the little one that kept his head. Those things that they'd lost, I'd hoarded like treasure, until all I could see at night was how gently brutal neutrality could be.
In their minds they shot forward to future flawless performances. My feelings were just bylines in a script.
Kise had said I chose him because he was just like Aomine. Instinctively, maybe I had sought for that familiar duplicity: gruff forgiveness with unstoppable potential, strength tempered with awkward tenderness.
He didn't say anything when I kissed him, lay him down. When I got on him, rode him until he was left gasping and panting, his hands like vises on my hips. Even in the moments we kissed, trembling, spilling passion into the dark, he said nothing as his arms closed around me and kept the silence at bay with repetitions of my name on his lips.
He made no promises, even with his body. When he leaned away, I could read him scared and apprehensive yet gung-ho for more. Naive. Letting himself be used, letting me lead him through my own redemption.
This one can do it, I really began to believe. He can bring back what I lost.
This time for sure, I'd chosen right.
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket
Pairing: Kagami/Kuroko
Rating: PG...for implied shmex
Notes: first time in Kuroko POV...yeaaah I should probably stop making him so flowery...