DRABBLING OH GOD MY WRITING KICK IS BACK ;A; BAD TIMING JFDKLFJAD SO BUSY AAAAH D:
Oh god capeandcowl drabble requests PART ONE because Kit is a poop.
1. Matt/Mamori for expertease [previously written! :D;;]
She doesn't realize it at first; neither of them do.
It's not the big things, like the ring he gives her for Christmas that isn't an engagement ring at all, but isn't really just a ring, either, because it was expensive and he doesn't realize the implications thereof until after.
It's not at all the way she seems to welcome his stupid gentlemanly things, like going out of his way just to make sure she's all right, pulling out that chair and taking her coat off her shoulders, and decking that guy that asked if she charged across the face, leaving her, somehow, blushing and thanking him for whatever reason.
It's not the way when he catches her when she slips (because she's just awfully clumsy like that), realizing that he's actually comfortable with holding her, even if he laughs it off awkwardly straight after.
It's not the way that she seems to be able to get along with his friends-- well, friends as a rather relative term-- but moreso than anyone else that they seem to respect her and get along with her, enjoying messing around with her as much as they enjoy messing around with him.
It's not the way that he can take her brother's teasing-- metaphorical brother, once more, but nevertheless suitable-- just shrugging it off as if it's nothing, which means more to her than the moon would.
It's not the way that she'd heal any wound he'd end up with any day the best she could, or the way he always tells her no, instead asking her to kiss it better, since he prefers that much, much more.
It's not the way she has managed to, after months and months of careful observation and practice, beat him at Super Mario Kart, leaving him in complete awe, unwilling to spoil the moment even by throwing in the fact that he'd let her win (though he totally, totally had), because it's worth it just to have her humming the theme for the next two weeks.
It's not even the way he cleans up after himself every time she's nearby or coming over, how rooms tend to get cleaner without her attacking them with Febreeze and her trusty broom-- even socks no longer stick out of his pockets, and it makes her proud.
It's not the way she'll go out of her way for him to knock on his door in case he's not feeling well, making him his favorite dinner; or, better yet, simply ordering a pizza to share with him while cuddling on the couch.
No, it's not until she's standing right beside him, here, like this, in nothing but panties and one of his shirts, brushing her teeth for what has to have been a good three minutes now (though he's not really counting, he's far too busy staring at how pretty she looks even under fluorescent bathroom lights), finally leaning down to spit-- not until she acknowledges that yes, he's actually sitting on the bathroom to pee, just for her, and she finds that she is, strangely enough, not grossed out in the least by this--
That they realize that they're going to be together forever.
Looking up again after having spit, she meets his gaze, and they smile at each other, faintly, as if they both know what's on each other's minds (though they really don't at all), just before the moment passes again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Maybe it didn't. Maybe this sort of happiness was just normal for some people.
When Did You Fall ~ Chris Rice
2. Matt/Mamori for expertease [also previously written :D;;]
There's countless times that she's saved his life. It's her ability, he knows, it's just something she can do; but even more so-- it's just her and her personality, the way she touches him and, healing or not, he feels at home and welcome again, and unlike any particularly unpleasant home-sweet-home Wammy's house might have previously inspired in him. It seems absurd, of course, that, of all the things, he'd latch on-- in part (he'd never call it the only part that mattered, heavens no)-- to her mothering spirit that makes him feel, for moments at a time, like he's just a normal kid, like--
No, no, that's wrong, like it's okay to just be a normal kid. Not to be that orphan or that guy that hangs around with Mello or even that guy that isn't Mello because he just doesn't matter that much and never has.
But then she'll lean in and kiss his cheek and he'll blush and stammer and forget his past-- at the same time somehow managing to feel so integrally like himself that it seems paradoxical.
He's gone on a tangent again. (She makes him do that).
So he'll start again-- there's countless times that she's saved his life-- and as much as he appreciates every time (though never as much as her kisses when he protests her healing him for the sake of his manly pride; kisses that always contain some healing power, still, however held back and disguised)--
The feeling of her saving him doesn't, has never, and never will compare to the feeling he gets when,
just for once
he saves her life.
It's always Mello and Duo and Hiruma doing it, see? Matt's never been a hero, and he gets it, really gets it in the way only a Wammy's Brat can get that there's an end to the sky that seems to go on forever for people like Mello and Near and like fucking bastards like Kira. He's just... not.
But that's irrelevant when she looks at him with those bright, brilliantly warm and happy eyes, shining so beautifully and innocently as if he's downright preserved her motherfucking innocence, yeah, him (take that, Mello, there's something you'll never beat him at)--
Him who curses and only half-cleans up after himself (though he's gotten up to 75% by now, just for her), him who hacks into people's accounts, who plays troll and laughs about it, who wastes all his time playing video games and jacking off, and, well.
It doesn't add up, is all.
But then she looks at him like that for warning her about the 743th villain who's arms she jumped into and offered to bake muffins for (seriously, what the hell?), helping her hack into an account and reassuring her that it wasn't her fault, that no one could have known in her position, that next time he wouldn't have just grabbed her and run, he would have been a man, dammit, and bludgeoned him over the head with a fucking Wii remote; and yet she shakes her head and just seems so utterly thrilled about how he held her in his arms and ran a whole three blocks like that before, well, breaking, and then she kisses him on the mouth and he's forgotten every tangent he's on, ever been on, ever will be on, and he doesn't particularly care, because she's a girl, she's a pretty girl who he thinks he might even be in love with, and she likes him, and she's paying attention to him, and he's her hero.
And maybe that's enough.
Holding Out For A Hero ~ Frou Frou
3. Elsa/Deadpool for ANON
She doesn't balance him out. They're both erratic and rough and crazy and somehow, it makes everything work about ten times better.
Or, well, ten times worse, depending on who you asked and their current predicament. (The guy currently in women's underwear-- and nothing but, oh ho ho ho-- and strapped to his gy equipment, for example, had plenty of reasons to resent the two of them)
Too bad for him, then, really.
Because the view from where Deadpool is standing is great sweet mama. The fact that she looks like she wants to punch him for it makes it even better.
He tilts his head, appraises some more-- soon he'll go contortionist for a properly good look-- but, no no, she actually just looks that fucking good all the time.
That's good.
Mmmmmmmyes.
The thought makes him want to call her doll again in the hopes that maybe she'll incapacitate him and give him a good laugh. But nah, he was public relations. Which was just fine, because it meant they got to beat shit up together and he'd never have to be on the receiving end of her gun.
Oh but that thought made him want to become an outlaw now. Fuuuck women, no wonder he loved what he did. Makingvigilante-style lawlessness wrapped in awesome sexy.
That was him. That was him right there. Just times ten.
Now just to have Zena realize as much.
... huh.
"So Miss Spartaaa, can I call you Zena?" She rolls her eyes at his genius, naturally. "I have always wanted to see you in--"
The thought skids to a halt. His face practically lights up.
"You are not calling me Leia. Absolutely not."
He actually pouts.
She's My Man ~ Scissor Sisters
4. Elsa/Deadpool for ANON SOME MORE
"Stop stalking me."
She has half the mind to wipe that smug smile behind that thin red piece of shit cloth off his face with her fist and then maybe her calves, too, if she ends up getting really irritated or something, but she realizes in the next moment already that he'd enjoy that.
Far, far too much.
"Stalking is the greatest form of flattery," he says, and jumps down from the light post.
He looks far, far too much like he wishes to declare this mission accomplished, and she doesn't want to give him his satisfaction.
Not yet. Not now. Not ever.
She keeps walking. "You know, you didn't even have to say anything, Missus Leia. You could have just let me keep si-- ah!"
This time she does deck him one, hoisting her gun up a bit higher on her shoulders. "You're sitting right in front of my building."
"So?"
"At the perfect height to look into my bedroom."
He just grins.
She hates to love that grin.
"I hate you," she tells him quite honestly, glaring horribly.
"I know," he goes on quite smugly, and she resists the urge to deck him again. "Sooooo, you gonna invite me in for coffee or what."
That time she doesn't.
The Stalker Song ~ Tripod
5. Mello/Duo for kitsoru & caress_the_gun
Duo knows he means nothing.
He sees it in Mello's eyes-- has always, somehow, seen it in his eyes-- that unspeakable desire for nothing but his goals and, well--
Duo isn't one of those. And even if he is, and even if he won't be easily won, as abstract and fucked up as it sounds, the second he gives in, it's over, and Mello will have gotten what he wants.
But Mello doesn't ever get what he wants.
He isn't sure why he cares; he's not Mamori, he's not the type to care-- and it's not until he sees Mello smile, really smile (and don't get him wrong there, while genuine, it hardly compares to the way Mamori's smiles light up a room, or the way his wish for a brighter existence and a better fate to excape the inevitable, the smile is, in spite of being a smile, still integrally Mello at the core, sadistic and pleased but happy, happy with himself, happy that something went right for him in the world because he's won this one out of the million left to come)-- that he really gets it.
Gets that he cares.
It shatters his heart in ways that he thought only Mamori could before, smiling at him like that, so innocent and sweet, reflecting back to him his own cautionary tale of what could have been, what should have been, but even this is different, and he turns away for a moment, smiles, and laughs it off.
Inside he's breaking, and it's at that moment specifically that he decides that he can't ever tell Mello, can't ever tell Mello, that he'd rather swallow his own foot whole than tell Mello because Mello would just be himself and laugh it off and write him off as ridiculous, retarded, and stupid.
... no.
More than that, even, he'd lose his respect for him. Feelings.
M was above feelings.
Was Mello, too?
To M he's a game, something to understand and conquer and win like Hannibal only with more elephants and more Alps than any history book could possibly comprehend, and Duo is left to his own thoughts, which drift, in this case, elsewhere entirely, to a place neither here nor there, back to Mamori's place where Matt comes up behind her to tickle her, making her squeal and jump and laugh, Mello commenting rather dryly for them to get a room.
Duo almost say something. Almost. But that sort of room is different, he realizes.
When Mello kisses him it's a war in their mouths, their tongues the armies of a battle that may never end (and he rather hopes it doesn't) as long as Mello doesn't understand him and he stays just distant enough.
He doesn't want to.
The other room is one Mello doesn't want to see, doesn't want to occupy, doesn't understand and doesn't want to, either. Duo briefly considers presenting the allure of the challenge, of the unknown, of a room like that, and then realizes it's futile.
It's a waste of time according to him. Pointless. Useless.
It's futile for Duo to try.
He does anyway.
If anyone asks why he does, he'll tell them it's just for fun.
In reality it's because he knows that Mello wouldn't give up, either, and he hopes that'll be enough.
Re: Stacks ~ Bon Iver
1. Matt/Mamori for expertease [previously written! :D;;]
She doesn't realize it at first; neither of them do.
It's not the big things, like the ring he gives her for Christmas that isn't an engagement ring at all, but isn't really just a ring, either, because it was expensive and he doesn't realize the implications thereof until after.
It's not at all the way she seems to welcome his stupid gentlemanly things, like going out of his way just to make sure she's all right, pulling out that chair and taking her coat off her shoulders, and decking that guy that asked if she charged across the face, leaving her, somehow, blushing and thanking him for whatever reason.
It's not the way when he catches her when she slips (because she's just awfully clumsy like that), realizing that he's actually comfortable with holding her, even if he laughs it off awkwardly straight after.
It's not the way that she seems to be able to get along with his friends-- well, friends as a rather relative term-- but moreso than anyone else that they seem to respect her and get along with her, enjoying messing around with her as much as they enjoy messing around with him.
It's not the way that he can take her brother's teasing-- metaphorical brother, once more, but nevertheless suitable-- just shrugging it off as if it's nothing, which means more to her than the moon would.
It's not the way that she'd heal any wound he'd end up with any day the best she could, or the way he always tells her no, instead asking her to kiss it better, since he prefers that much, much more.
It's not the way she has managed to, after months and months of careful observation and practice, beat him at Super Mario Kart, leaving him in complete awe, unwilling to spoil the moment even by throwing in the fact that he'd let her win (though he totally, totally had), because it's worth it just to have her humming the theme for the next two weeks.
It's not even the way he cleans up after himself every time she's nearby or coming over, how rooms tend to get cleaner without her attacking them with Febreeze and her trusty broom-- even socks no longer stick out of his pockets, and it makes her proud.
It's not the way she'll go out of her way for him to knock on his door in case he's not feeling well, making him his favorite dinner; or, better yet, simply ordering a pizza to share with him while cuddling on the couch.
No, it's not until she's standing right beside him, here, like this, in nothing but panties and one of his shirts, brushing her teeth for what has to have been a good three minutes now (though he's not really counting, he's far too busy staring at how pretty she looks even under fluorescent bathroom lights), finally leaning down to spit-- not until she acknowledges that yes, he's actually sitting on the bathroom to pee, just for her, and she finds that she is, strangely enough, not grossed out in the least by this--
That they realize that they're going to be together forever.
Looking up again after having spit, she meets his gaze, and they smile at each other, faintly, as if they both know what's on each other's minds (though they really don't at all), just before the moment passes again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Maybe it didn't. Maybe this sort of happiness was just normal for some people.
When Did You Fall ~ Chris Rice
2. Matt/Mamori for expertease [also previously written :D;;]
There's countless times that she's saved his life. It's her ability, he knows, it's just something she can do; but even more so-- it's just her and her personality, the way she touches him and, healing or not, he feels at home and welcome again, and unlike any particularly unpleasant home-sweet-home Wammy's house might have previously inspired in him. It seems absurd, of course, that, of all the things, he'd latch on-- in part (he'd never call it the only part that mattered, heavens no)-- to her mothering spirit that makes him feel, for moments at a time, like he's just a normal kid, like--
No, no, that's wrong, like it's okay to just be a normal kid. Not to be that orphan or that guy that hangs around with Mello or even that guy that isn't Mello because he just doesn't matter that much and never has.
But then she'll lean in and kiss his cheek and he'll blush and stammer and forget his past-- at the same time somehow managing to feel so integrally like himself that it seems paradoxical.
He's gone on a tangent again. (She makes him do that).
So he'll start again-- there's countless times that she's saved his life-- and as much as he appreciates every time (though never as much as her kisses when he protests her healing him for the sake of his manly pride; kisses that always contain some healing power, still, however held back and disguised)--
The feeling of her saving him doesn't, has never, and never will compare to the feeling he gets when,
just for once
he saves her life.
It's always Mello and Duo and Hiruma doing it, see? Matt's never been a hero, and he gets it, really gets it in the way only a Wammy's Brat can get that there's an end to the sky that seems to go on forever for people like Mello and Near and like fucking bastards like Kira. He's just... not.
But that's irrelevant when she looks at him with those bright, brilliantly warm and happy eyes, shining so beautifully and innocently as if he's downright preserved her motherfucking innocence, yeah, him (take that, Mello, there's something you'll never beat him at)--
Him who curses and only half-cleans up after himself (though he's gotten up to 75% by now, just for her), him who hacks into people's accounts, who plays troll and laughs about it, who wastes all his time playing video games and jacking off, and, well.
It doesn't add up, is all.
But then she looks at him like that for warning her about the 743th villain who's arms she jumped into and offered to bake muffins for (seriously, what the hell?), helping her hack into an account and reassuring her that it wasn't her fault, that no one could have known in her position, that next time he wouldn't have just grabbed her and run, he would have been a man, dammit, and bludgeoned him over the head with a fucking Wii remote; and yet she shakes her head and just seems so utterly thrilled about how he held her in his arms and ran a whole three blocks like that before, well, breaking, and then she kisses him on the mouth and he's forgotten every tangent he's on, ever been on, ever will be on, and he doesn't particularly care, because she's a girl, she's a pretty girl who he thinks he might even be in love with, and she likes him, and she's paying attention to him, and he's her hero.
And maybe that's enough.
Holding Out For A Hero ~ Frou Frou
3. Elsa/Deadpool for ANON
She doesn't balance him out. They're both erratic and rough and crazy and somehow, it makes everything work about ten times better.
Or, well, ten times worse, depending on who you asked and their current predicament. (The guy currently in women's underwear-- and nothing but, oh ho ho ho-- and strapped to his gy equipment, for example, had plenty of reasons to resent the two of them)
Too bad for him, then, really.
Because the view from where Deadpool is standing is great sweet mama. The fact that she looks like she wants to punch him for it makes it even better.
He tilts his head, appraises some more-- soon he'll go contortionist for a properly good look-- but, no no, she actually just looks that fucking good all the time.
That's good.
Mmmmmmmyes.
The thought makes him want to call her doll again in the hopes that maybe she'll incapacitate him and give him a good laugh. But nah, he was public relations. Which was just fine, because it meant they got to beat shit up together and he'd never have to be on the receiving end of her gun.
Oh but that thought made him want to become an outlaw now. Fuuuck women, no wonder he loved what he did. Makingvigilante-style lawlessness wrapped in awesome sexy.
That was him. That was him right there. Just times ten.
Now just to have Zena realize as much.
... huh.
"So Miss Spartaaa, can I call you Zena?" She rolls her eyes at his genius, naturally. "I have always wanted to see you in--"
The thought skids to a halt. His face practically lights up.
"You are not calling me Leia. Absolutely not."
He actually pouts.
She's My Man ~ Scissor Sisters
4. Elsa/Deadpool for ANON SOME MORE
"Stop stalking me."
She has half the mind to wipe that smug smile behind that thin red piece of shit cloth off his face with her fist and then maybe her calves, too, if she ends up getting really irritated or something, but she realizes in the next moment already that he'd enjoy that.
Far, far too much.
"Stalking is the greatest form of flattery," he says, and jumps down from the light post.
He looks far, far too much like he wishes to declare this mission accomplished, and she doesn't want to give him his satisfaction.
Not yet. Not now. Not ever.
She keeps walking. "You know, you didn't even have to say anything, Missus Leia. You could have just let me keep si-- ah!"
This time she does deck him one, hoisting her gun up a bit higher on her shoulders. "You're sitting right in front of my building."
"So?"
"At the perfect height to look into my bedroom."
He just grins.
She hates to love that grin.
"I hate you," she tells him quite honestly, glaring horribly.
"I know," he goes on quite smugly, and she resists the urge to deck him again. "Sooooo, you gonna invite me in for coffee or what."
That time she doesn't.
The Stalker Song ~ Tripod
5. Mello/Duo for kitsoru & caress_the_gun
Duo knows he means nothing.
He sees it in Mello's eyes-- has always, somehow, seen it in his eyes-- that unspeakable desire for nothing but his goals and, well--
Duo isn't one of those. And even if he is, and even if he won't be easily won, as abstract and fucked up as it sounds, the second he gives in, it's over, and Mello will have gotten what he wants.
But Mello doesn't ever get what he wants.
He isn't sure why he cares; he's not Mamori, he's not the type to care-- and it's not until he sees Mello smile, really smile (and don't get him wrong there, while genuine, it hardly compares to the way Mamori's smiles light up a room, or the way his wish for a brighter existence and a better fate to excape the inevitable, the smile is, in spite of being a smile, still integrally Mello at the core, sadistic and pleased but happy, happy with himself, happy that something went right for him in the world because he's won this one out of the million left to come)-- that he really gets it.
Gets that he cares.
It shatters his heart in ways that he thought only Mamori could before, smiling at him like that, so innocent and sweet, reflecting back to him his own cautionary tale of what could have been, what should have been, but even this is different, and he turns away for a moment, smiles, and laughs it off.
Inside he's breaking, and it's at that moment specifically that he decides that he can't ever tell Mello, can't ever tell Mello, that he'd rather swallow his own foot whole than tell Mello because Mello would just be himself and laugh it off and write him off as ridiculous, retarded, and stupid.
... no.
More than that, even, he'd lose his respect for him. Feelings.
M was above feelings.
Was Mello, too?
To M he's a game, something to understand and conquer and win like Hannibal only with more elephants and more Alps than any history book could possibly comprehend, and Duo is left to his own thoughts, which drift, in this case, elsewhere entirely, to a place neither here nor there, back to Mamori's place where Matt comes up behind her to tickle her, making her squeal and jump and laugh, Mello commenting rather dryly for them to get a room.
Duo almost say something. Almost. But that sort of room is different, he realizes.
When Mello kisses him it's a war in their mouths, their tongues the armies of a battle that may never end (and he rather hopes it doesn't) as long as Mello doesn't understand him and he stays just distant enough.
He doesn't want to.
The other room is one Mello doesn't want to see, doesn't want to occupy, doesn't understand and doesn't want to, either. Duo briefly considers presenting the allure of the challenge, of the unknown, of a room like that, and then realizes it's futile.
It's a waste of time according to him. Pointless. Useless.
It's futile for Duo to try.
He does anyway.
If anyone asks why he does, he'll tell them it's just for fun.
In reality it's because he knows that Mello wouldn't give up, either, and he hopes that'll be enough.
Re: Stacks ~ Bon Iver