[drabbles] pearls and roses
Selection of drabbles from a writing meme I actually posted on dA because I'm active enough there to have friends/watchers that comment enough to have made it actually work. Just thought I'd share my favourites. I fucking hate html hadklfg;lklfd
○10 forces 6 into a penguin suit and ties them down in front of Nami middle. (fem!Hibari, Dino)[based conveniently on this picture]
“K-Kyoumi, is this really necessary?!”
“Be quiet, penguin.”
Dino floundered for the right words, mouth opening and closing utterly helplessly as the girl, hand twisted tightly in his collar (at least, that's the general area her hand was clasped to) and dragging him down the halls of her middle school, much to the confusion and general startled nature of every student lining them. They simply stepped aside as their furious Disciplinary Committee head barged past with an Italian haphazardly shoved into what looked remarkably like a penguin outfit (courtesy of Kusakabe and her other subordinates whilst she stood back, arms folded over her chest and eyes narrowed to the point of daggers).
“Is this because Romario took that bird away?” the blonde pleaded as he was dragged with brute force through the front doors and shoved face first into the ground.
He sprawled out, arms and legs akimbo, before rolling his aching body over onto his back, looking up at the girl over him.
“That penguin was mine.” Kyoumi snarled, dropping her foot onto Dino's stomach and slamming it down hard, “Until you've repented, you will take its place. If you move from here, I'll kill you.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back inside, leaving the bewildered man scrambling to his knees in an attempt to go after her.
“I'll bite you dead, you herbivore!”
He stopped in his place meekly, hands on his knees.
Six hours later she finally came back to him.
○Drunk!4 lapdances 9 (Hibari, Giotto)
Hibari didn't think much before he acted. He just did what he liked and if he didn't want to deal with the repercussions...well, he just didn't. This philosophy went tenfold for when Hibari was intoxicated via means of sake and cheap Russian vodka, and the rest of the party simply cheered him on when he sat in the rather surprised blonde's lap and started grinding away like he was being payed for it. He couldn't say why he suddenly felt like doing it, he just did. Maybe for the reaction he'd get from the one underneath him.
Hands fell onto his hips but he slapped them away with a hiss, twisting around, twisting back, throwing his arms around the neck he couldn't see the tattoos on because of a high collar. (It was strange, that, but he didn't question it since the vodka seemed to explain everything.)
No one thought it wise to tell Hibari that he was actually lap dancing the spirit that had sneaked out of Tsuna's Vongola ring and not his old tutor.
○2 catches 8 and 4 making out (fem!Gokudera, G, Hibari)
Gokudera stands stupidly in the doorway, blush rising as high as the tips of her ears as she tries to find the words to describe the situation laid out in front of her. Having accidentally dropped her Vongola Ring in Hibari's reception room when her, the Tenth and Yamamoto had taken some papers there earlier, she'd returned with the intention of taking it back and had thrown the door open without fear, but being greeted with the sight of Hibari in the lap of the first Storm Guardian and making out so fiercely it was like they were trying to taste each other's tonsils had left her...stunned, to say the least.
“U-...I...it...you...” Gokudera began, mouth flapping as uselessly as her hands by her sides, Hibari eventually turning to look her way, giving her such a blank look that she exploded; “You fucking bastard! What the FUCK do you call this?!”
“He looks like Alaude.” G answered, knowing full well that was directed at him and leaning back into the couch he'd parked his ass on.
“That doesn't-...oh my GOD, you homo! Just...UGH! Get back in that ring! We're leaving! In fact, no, STAY HERE.”
Covering her red face with a hand, she marched in, two sets of nonplussed eyes on her as she snatched her ring up off the floor before turning on her heel and storming out the way she'd come, door slamming hard behind her.
The two left looked at it for a second longer.
“Maybe if she had any tits I'd be kissing her instead.”
○8 sees 2 die and tries to go back in the past (via Shouichi's machine or something) to rewrite it. (G, fem!Gokudera)
His arms are suddenly empty and the blood he kneels in is left dripping from the ceiling. It clatters loudly, falls from her hands- slow motion vertigo- and it blossoms against his white shirt, the roses of his blood.
She'd cut her hair. Vision blurs, but he sees it, cut bluntly around her jaw like she'd hewn through it with a knife. Knowing her, she had, he laughs, life mixed in with spittle as it chokes past his lips. He wishes she'd kept it long. It's so beautiful when it's long, liquid moonlight that it is.
I never died, he hears her scream as black unfeeling misery puts out the fire of his soul.
He buried his face into it, breathed her in, let out a breathless laugh when she got affronted and wound it around her hand, pushing his head away. I'm busy, stop tangling it up, she snapped, blushing across her pretty pale face. Putting his head over her shoulder he smiled to her in the mirror. Could be twins, if she were a boy, if he were a girl, if their blood was remotely the same.
“Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship,” he murmured, eyes demanding hers in their reflection, “You'll nothing, madam, to not your lord, but me?”
Her lids lowered, brow furrowing at his teasing smile, at his lazy gaze.
“Stay.” she finally replied, setting down the silver-plated brush with a gentle clink, “I prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me...”
Bodies scattered at her feet she gasps for breath; he wasn't there. Emerald contemplation running over the death stains, her hands tremble gently around the metal in her hand, gunpowder scent strong in her nose, sharp on her senses.
Any minute now. Any minute now they'll come for her, and she prays, a shameless beggar for scraps of kindness, that he stays away this time, that he doesn't force her hand.
Footsteps sound and bang and clatter, white lace round her knees in tatters,
close your eyes and count to three, a fool you've tried to make of me-
Her trigger finger pulls a fraction later, but it's gone astray, arms around her waist, face in her neck, grip so tight it chokes her of breath. No, she sobs, screams inside, as the bullet lands true in her skull.
You're too late.
They laughed around them, guffawed and chuckled and cried with champagne, pearls around her neck and eyes as sharp as her nails, tapping on the table. Cards held delicately in her other hand, covering her mouth like a folding fan of secrets. No one could see their secret tryst across the table top, and only he knew she was bluffing, the vague twitch of her mascara, the clench of her angry jaw.
“Four of a kind.” she settled, smile all of a sudden revealed, smug and feline.
A collective ooh and ah as others folded, clapped backs and shook hands, raising their glasses in a nod to her win.
“Royal flush.” he purred eventually, one card corner after the other hitting lightly against the table.
He smirked, flawless in execution and shifting the flames on his cheek as if they were alive, as the irritation flared in her irises, and he could already taste the fury in her sweat, legs locked tight around his waist, passion on the edges of her teeth.
Always one step ahead.
Breath heaving, lungs burning, he thunders down the corridor, rich red carpet sounding nothing beneath his urgent feet. A little further, a little more, and his hand slips over the door knob in his haste, kicking it open and she's there, handgun clasped in sweaty palms, raised in his direction.
It's the man who appears behind him whose shot kills him.
He thinks he hears her crying.
“Even if it's a woman like you,” he said quietly, tone low, gaze hidden in the space between her shoulder blades, “I'll follow you to hell.”
“I don't plan going there, you stupid man.” she retorted just as mutely, “Not unless the Tenth heads there first.”
“Then I'll follow you there and back, and there again if need be.” he grinned, knowing the look distorting her face without even seeing it.
“Follow your own lord and master.”
“I'd rather follow a beautiful woman, stubborn and foolish as she may be.” he muttered, not adding that the view from behind would be better too.
She fell silent for a long time, and he didn't press for a response. It would only be an insult anyway, knowing her.
“How now,” her voice whispered across the silence, “art thou mad?”
She lies dying in his arms again, and he wonders how many times it's been now, stuck in this endless cycle of fear and desperation and every time plummeting back down the chasm just when the spider's thread seems to hold their weight.. Crimson streaks her jaw, dripping from her mouth and her nose and she's broken in his hold.
She's cut her hair short. It's cute, but he still prefers it long. Besides that, it looks like she's hewn it off with a blunt-edged knife. Knowing her, she probably did.
He smiles crookedly and she returns it. There's no irritation in her eyes, and he knows she's already lost herself. He has too, a long time ago; he's scattered in pieces across the ground, and every time he tries to put them back together, she bleeds, cut by a shard of him. They stand opposite each other, separated by the stained glass floor of their memories.
“I'll follow you to hell and back, no matter how many times it takes. Don't forget that, stubborn woman.”
○10 forces 6 into a penguin suit and ties them down in front of Nami middle. (fem!Hibari, Dino)[based conveniently on this picture]
“K-Kyoumi, is this really necessary?!”
“Be quiet, penguin.”
Dino floundered for the right words, mouth opening and closing utterly helplessly as the girl, hand twisted tightly in his collar (at least, that's the general area her hand was clasped to) and dragging him down the halls of her middle school, much to the confusion and general startled nature of every student lining them. They simply stepped aside as their furious Disciplinary Committee head barged past with an Italian haphazardly shoved into what looked remarkably like a penguin outfit (courtesy of Kusakabe and her other subordinates whilst she stood back, arms folded over her chest and eyes narrowed to the point of daggers).
“Is this because Romario took that bird away?” the blonde pleaded as he was dragged with brute force through the front doors and shoved face first into the ground.
He sprawled out, arms and legs akimbo, before rolling his aching body over onto his back, looking up at the girl over him.
“That penguin was mine.” Kyoumi snarled, dropping her foot onto Dino's stomach and slamming it down hard, “Until you've repented, you will take its place. If you move from here, I'll kill you.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back inside, leaving the bewildered man scrambling to his knees in an attempt to go after her.
“I'll bite you dead, you herbivore!”
He stopped in his place meekly, hands on his knees.
Six hours later she finally came back to him.
○Drunk!4 lapdances 9 (Hibari, Giotto)
Hibari didn't think much before he acted. He just did what he liked and if he didn't want to deal with the repercussions...well, he just didn't. This philosophy went tenfold for when Hibari was intoxicated via means of sake and cheap Russian vodka, and the rest of the party simply cheered him on when he sat in the rather surprised blonde's lap and started grinding away like he was being payed for it. He couldn't say why he suddenly felt like doing it, he just did. Maybe for the reaction he'd get from the one underneath him.
Hands fell onto his hips but he slapped them away with a hiss, twisting around, twisting back, throwing his arms around the neck he couldn't see the tattoos on because of a high collar. (It was strange, that, but he didn't question it since the vodka seemed to explain everything.)
No one thought it wise to tell Hibari that he was actually lap dancing the spirit that had sneaked out of Tsuna's Vongola ring and not his old tutor.
○2 catches 8 and 4 making out (fem!Gokudera, G, Hibari)
Gokudera stands stupidly in the doorway, blush rising as high as the tips of her ears as she tries to find the words to describe the situation laid out in front of her. Having accidentally dropped her Vongola Ring in Hibari's reception room when her, the Tenth and Yamamoto had taken some papers there earlier, she'd returned with the intention of taking it back and had thrown the door open without fear, but being greeted with the sight of Hibari in the lap of the first Storm Guardian and making out so fiercely it was like they were trying to taste each other's tonsils had left her...stunned, to say the least.
“U-...I...it...you...” Gokudera began, mouth flapping as uselessly as her hands by her sides, Hibari eventually turning to look her way, giving her such a blank look that she exploded; “You fucking bastard! What the FUCK do you call this?!”
“He looks like Alaude.” G answered, knowing full well that was directed at him and leaning back into the couch he'd parked his ass on.
“That doesn't-...oh my GOD, you homo! Just...UGH! Get back in that ring! We're leaving! In fact, no, STAY HERE.”
Covering her red face with a hand, she marched in, two sets of nonplussed eyes on her as she snatched her ring up off the floor before turning on her heel and storming out the way she'd come, door slamming hard behind her.
The two left looked at it for a second longer.
“Maybe if she had any tits I'd be kissing her instead.”
○8 sees 2 die and tries to go back in the past (via Shouichi's machine or something) to rewrite it. (G, fem!Gokudera)
His arms are suddenly empty and the blood he kneels in is left dripping from the ceiling. It clatters loudly, falls from her hands- slow motion vertigo- and it blossoms against his white shirt, the roses of his blood.
She'd cut her hair. Vision blurs, but he sees it, cut bluntly around her jaw like she'd hewn through it with a knife. Knowing her, she had, he laughs, life mixed in with spittle as it chokes past his lips. He wishes she'd kept it long. It's so beautiful when it's long, liquid moonlight that it is.
I never died, he hears her scream as black unfeeling misery puts out the fire of his soul.
He buried his face into it, breathed her in, let out a breathless laugh when she got affronted and wound it around her hand, pushing his head away. I'm busy, stop tangling it up, she snapped, blushing across her pretty pale face. Putting his head over her shoulder he smiled to her in the mirror. Could be twins, if she were a boy, if he were a girl, if their blood was remotely the same.
“Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship,” he murmured, eyes demanding hers in their reflection, “You'll nothing, madam, to not your lord, but me?”
Her lids lowered, brow furrowing at his teasing smile, at his lazy gaze.
“Stay.” she finally replied, setting down the silver-plated brush with a gentle clink, “I prithee, tell me what thou think'st of me...”
Bodies scattered at her feet she gasps for breath; he wasn't there. Emerald contemplation running over the death stains, her hands tremble gently around the metal in her hand, gunpowder scent strong in her nose, sharp on her senses.
Any minute now. Any minute now they'll come for her, and she prays, a shameless beggar for scraps of kindness, that he stays away this time, that he doesn't force her hand.
Footsteps sound and bang and clatter, white lace round her knees in tatters,
close your eyes and count to three, a fool you've tried to make of me-
Her trigger finger pulls a fraction later, but it's gone astray, arms around her waist, face in her neck, grip so tight it chokes her of breath. No, she sobs, screams inside, as the bullet lands true in her skull.
You're too late.
They laughed around them, guffawed and chuckled and cried with champagne, pearls around her neck and eyes as sharp as her nails, tapping on the table. Cards held delicately in her other hand, covering her mouth like a folding fan of secrets. No one could see their secret tryst across the table top, and only he knew she was bluffing, the vague twitch of her mascara, the clench of her angry jaw.
“Four of a kind.” she settled, smile all of a sudden revealed, smug and feline.
A collective ooh and ah as others folded, clapped backs and shook hands, raising their glasses in a nod to her win.
“Royal flush.” he purred eventually, one card corner after the other hitting lightly against the table.
He smirked, flawless in execution and shifting the flames on his cheek as if they were alive, as the irritation flared in her irises, and he could already taste the fury in her sweat, legs locked tight around his waist, passion on the edges of her teeth.
Always one step ahead.
Breath heaving, lungs burning, he thunders down the corridor, rich red carpet sounding nothing beneath his urgent feet. A little further, a little more, and his hand slips over the door knob in his haste, kicking it open and she's there, handgun clasped in sweaty palms, raised in his direction.
It's the man who appears behind him whose shot kills him.
He thinks he hears her crying.
“Even if it's a woman like you,” he said quietly, tone low, gaze hidden in the space between her shoulder blades, “I'll follow you to hell.”
“I don't plan going there, you stupid man.” she retorted just as mutely, “Not unless the Tenth heads there first.”
“Then I'll follow you there and back, and there again if need be.” he grinned, knowing the look distorting her face without even seeing it.
“Follow your own lord and master.”
“I'd rather follow a beautiful woman, stubborn and foolish as she may be.” he muttered, not adding that the view from behind would be better too.
She fell silent for a long time, and he didn't press for a response. It would only be an insult anyway, knowing her.
“How now,” her voice whispered across the silence, “art thou mad?”
She lies dying in his arms again, and he wonders how many times it's been now, stuck in this endless cycle of fear and desperation and every time plummeting back down the chasm just when the spider's thread seems to hold their weight.. Crimson streaks her jaw, dripping from her mouth and her nose and she's broken in his hold.
She's cut her hair short. It's cute, but he still prefers it long. Besides that, it looks like she's hewn it off with a blunt-edged knife. Knowing her, she probably did.
He smiles crookedly and she returns it. There's no irritation in her eyes, and he knows she's already lost herself. He has too, a long time ago; he's scattered in pieces across the ground, and every time he tries to put them back together, she bleeds, cut by a shard of him. They stand opposite each other, separated by the stained glass floor of their memories.
“I'll follow you to hell and back, no matter how many times it takes. Don't forget that, stubborn woman.”