Class Systems [October 7th] [Ryo18] [Reborn!]
Title :: Class Systems
Prompt :: October 7th, “double or nothing” [31_days]
Pairing :: Ryo18
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 500
Summary :: “You,” he says, voice coming cold and crisp and sharp from between his teeth, “are a disrupt to discipline.”
Notes :: LOL I HAVE NO IDEA. T_T;;;;; *BLAMES pekori FOREVER AND EVER*
“You,” he says, voice coming cold and crisp and sharp from between his teeth, “are a disrupt to discipline.”
Ryohei blinks, taking a moment to focus, to hear past the blood still rushing in his ears, past his own surging instincts. (The corridor is small and close and hot from the bright lights up above, and if you don't pay attention it almost still feels like he’s in the ring.)
And then he recognises, dimly, that his honour as a sportsman is being challenged - or something - and his blood surges all the more strongly.
“AT LEAST IF I’M DISRUPTIVE, I’M DISRUPTIVE FOR BOXING!”
Hibari doesn't even blink, but his lips pull back, twisting into a sneer of disgust.
Ryohei doesn’t see it that way. He takes in the bared teeth, the always-defensive posture of Hibari’s body, and thinks, Threat.
(It’s animalistic and raw and even the bears couldn't have been this exciting, if the way his muscles sing is any indication.)
“THERE’S A REASON I AM THE VONGOLA'S LION PUNCHINIST TO THE MAX!”
“Wao.”
Ryohei opens his mouth to yell - lion punchinists ultimately deserve more attention than this, goddammit - and is cut off by a tonfa to the head. He's momentarily taken aback (it's not as though he isn't used to extreme head injuries, but still, Hibari didn't even give any kind of a signal before starting their match, and the lack of reverence for boxing etiquette just pisses him off more), and Hibari takes the opportunity to yank his sports tape forcibly from his nose in one smooth move.
“Unacceptable,” he murmurs, tossing it to the ground like a bit of filth. “You’re simply lucky I didn't rip your eyebrows out as well.”
And that just adds insult to injury, and he yells back that even his eyebrows are extreme, thank you very much, and blocks the next tonfa attack with his fist.
He stops complaining, then.
There’s something different about this - Hibari’s tightly-wound restraint flies away when he fights, becoming something not flashy but shadowed, dark and far too primal to be contained in any ring - and he can’t help the way it makes excitement coil low in his gut. Can’t help the way he responds, fists hitting metal over and over again and reaching for skin, can’t help the way his moves come faster and harder and tighter, can’t help the way he likes the taste of blood in his mouth (whose, he doesn’t know or care) just because it means they’re both alive.
“You’re not a herbivore,” Hibari purrs, pressed in close enough that his breath comes even but heated against Ryohei’s manic grin, and punctuates the sentence with his tonfas just to make it clear that this is not anything even resembling a concession.
“But your levels of intelligence and discipline still make you nothing more than a shameful amoeba.”
And with a flying kick to the head that becomes a knee to the gut before Ryohei can even think to block, Hibari walks away.
Prompt :: October 7th, “double or nothing” [31_days]
Pairing :: Ryo18
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 500
Summary :: “You,” he says, voice coming cold and crisp and sharp from between his teeth, “are a disrupt to discipline.”
Notes :: LOL I HAVE NO IDEA. T_T;;;;; *BLAMES pekori FOREVER AND EVER*
“You,” he says, voice coming cold and crisp and sharp from between his teeth, “are a disrupt to discipline.”
Ryohei blinks, taking a moment to focus, to hear past the blood still rushing in his ears, past his own surging instincts. (The corridor is small and close and hot from the bright lights up above, and if you don't pay attention it almost still feels like he’s in the ring.)
And then he recognises, dimly, that his honour as a sportsman is being challenged - or something - and his blood surges all the more strongly.
“AT LEAST IF I’M DISRUPTIVE, I’M DISRUPTIVE FOR BOXING!”
Hibari doesn't even blink, but his lips pull back, twisting into a sneer of disgust.
Ryohei doesn’t see it that way. He takes in the bared teeth, the always-defensive posture of Hibari’s body, and thinks, Threat.
(It’s animalistic and raw and even the bears couldn't have been this exciting, if the way his muscles sing is any indication.)
“THERE’S A REASON I AM THE VONGOLA'S LION PUNCHINIST TO THE MAX!”
“Wao.”
Ryohei opens his mouth to yell - lion punchinists ultimately deserve more attention than this, goddammit - and is cut off by a tonfa to the head. He's momentarily taken aback (it's not as though he isn't used to extreme head injuries, but still, Hibari didn't even give any kind of a signal before starting their match, and the lack of reverence for boxing etiquette just pisses him off more), and Hibari takes the opportunity to yank his sports tape forcibly from his nose in one smooth move.
“Unacceptable,” he murmurs, tossing it to the ground like a bit of filth. “You’re simply lucky I didn't rip your eyebrows out as well.”
And that just adds insult to injury, and he yells back that even his eyebrows are extreme, thank you very much, and blocks the next tonfa attack with his fist.
He stops complaining, then.
There’s something different about this - Hibari’s tightly-wound restraint flies away when he fights, becoming something not flashy but shadowed, dark and far too primal to be contained in any ring - and he can’t help the way it makes excitement coil low in his gut. Can’t help the way he responds, fists hitting metal over and over again and reaching for skin, can’t help the way his moves come faster and harder and tighter, can’t help the way he likes the taste of blood in his mouth (whose, he doesn’t know or care) just because it means they’re both alive.
“You’re not a herbivore,” Hibari purrs, pressed in close enough that his breath comes even but heated against Ryohei’s manic grin, and punctuates the sentence with his tonfas just to make it clear that this is not anything even resembling a concession.
“But your levels of intelligence and discipline still make you nothing more than a shameful amoeba.”
And with a flying kick to the head that becomes a knee to the gut before Ryohei can even think to block, Hibari walks away.