[FIC] drabbles
Hey, hey, hey.
No proper DinoHiba fanart yet, but I have four drabbles. I think they're not too bad (well, they're not long enough to morph into some hideous D18 ooc fanfic that I may be capable of writing). They're behind the cut:
Though Everybody Here Thinks He Needs You
(a collection of D18 drabbles by the Butler)
Four D18 drabbles of no less than 300 words each. Theme/word prompt selected randomly from a Talecraft™ card deck (ingenious little game, seriously).
Title taken from a Jeff Buckley song.
Warning: contains BOY LOVE, okay? If allergic, steer clear. Timeline vague and hazy and I don’t think the drabbles constitute one unified theme/story. Implied sex, swear words, and the like. Not beta-ed, so look out for horrible sentence construction, grammar, spelling mistakes and the like.
Contains: One Dino Cavallone (or is it Chiavarrone? I’m confused), one Hibari Kyouya, mentions of Romario, Mukuro, Namimori high, the conspicuous absence of Enzio and Hibird.
Diclaimer: the author makes no claim over the characters herein portrayed in a not for profit fan fiction. They belong to the creative universe of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! And it’s respective creator.
i. Body paint
His left arm bears testament to his will: the various tattoos he got in increments after Reborn’s hellish training, after that monumental fight where he opened (finally) his eyes, after saving his famiglia and supporting it on his own, after his father’s death and he took on forever the mantle of the head of Cavallone.
They are vulgar- blue flames, barbed wires, flaming skulls, rearing Italian stallions (vulgar like his new name, his moniker- the Bucking Horse).
They are indiscreet- it starts from the back of his hand to the side of his neck (like Enzio on a rampage, like the battalion of black suits following him everywhere).
They are flashy- the blue and the yellow and the black contrasting with his pale, pink skin, bold in their design and message (like his weapon- a bullwhip).
They are permanent, a promise in ink- he will die with them still on his skin (as he will die with the Cavallone famiglia name burned into his soul).
They were painful- not even the comforting presence of Romario and two other lackeys make the visits to the tattoo parlor any less excruciating to his arm. He could have left it in black. When asked, he said have it colored in, it’s all the same. The tattoo artist wisely did not argue, not with the look on his customer’s face. He sat there, minutes and hours, with the needle on his skin (like he sits at the head of the house of Cavallone, days and years, the pressure of death and life and the power to decide always on his shoulders).
Tattoos are testament of his will to lead, to protect, to honor the family, always. A calculated threat hinting at idle power, the paint on a warrior’s face. A warning. The Bucking Horse can and will fight.
Nevertheless, some days, he is grateful for a jacket to cover them.
ii. blackmail
Dino Cavallone, the mafia’s golden boy and most eligible bachelor, eventually settled down and married. Unlike Sawada Tsunayoshi, though, he married for the usual Mafioso reason- to have children to carry on the Cavallone name and/or strengthen connections with other mafia families. Nevertheless the Bucking Horse proved to be a good husband and a better father. To his family, to the people under the influence and protection of the house of Cavallone, Dino can do no wrong.
He could have destroyed all that with just one confession to a listening ear. It would spread like wildfire- not quite believed, but not entirely dismissed either. Dino Cavallone is too perfect- even the darling of the local parish church. Some people would believe anything if only to make someone seem more like them- scarred with imperfections. And this imperfection would be the best, because it would be true.
Kyouya Hibari could have brought Dino Cavallone to his knees with one careless rumor. His adoring wife would have been the perfect victim- to tell her how Dino would kiss Kyouya’s lips, how Dino’s hands touched him in turns gentle and rough, How Dino would flush red with exertion at every thrust, how Dino would repeat his name fervently like a prayer when they climax within seconds of each other, how it ends always with a whisper of words only ever meant truthfully for Kyouya and no one else.
It would shatter Dino’s perfect life. His family’s extreme devotion and loyalty to the best Cavallone boss in years would no doubt offer Kyouya crass money to keep their secret just as it is: a secret. He could even blackmail Dino himself, though the Mafioso boss never entertained the thought and trusted him completely. He could take absolute control of the Cavallone famiglia, even more than the Vongola can dictate by the intricate laws within the mafia.
But he does not.
Because things like that, only weak herbivores use, to make up for their lack of power.
Because ruining the house of Cavallone is not of his interest.
Because it is something that the likes of Mukuro would do, manipulating people and bending them to his will. And he is Hibari Kyouya, strongest Namimori Discipline Committee prefect in history, not Mukuro.
Yes.
Only for those reasons, and nothing more.
iii. test
Ah, Dino says, as if he has understood everything from Hibari’s intent to the meaning of Life, the Universe, and everything in between. He pulls out the bullwhip from somewhere behind his back, probably tucked into his pants’ waistband or belt, and uncoils it with usual panache. It flicks elegantly against the air, force and leather producing a beautiful cracking sound.
This is a test, he says, and adds for good measure, you mean to test me.
Hibari snarls, annoyed.
Don’t worry, Dino replies, daring to be a bit cheeky, I’ll ace your test, no problem.
Hibari lunges without warning, sudden and hostile and ready to kill, spurred on by Dino’s unwarranted sass. The Italian smirks, everything going according to his pace. Parry, dodge, turn, hit, smile never leaving his face, Dino manages to get close enough to whisper into Kyouya’s ear.
Don’t worry, he repeats, I don’t break easily.
He was right in assuming it would affect Hibari enough to warrant a little widening of the eyes; he was wrong in assuming it would stop Hibari from delivering a painful backhanded counter-blow to his left jaw. Dodging the severity of the blow in the very nick of time saves him from a broken jaw and weeks of bland hospital food (not that the famiglia can’t do anything to make a hospital stay seem like a five star hotel vacation). However the force is enough to bring Dino to his knees and, as he takes a hand to cradle the already blossoming bruise on his face, he manages to still smile. Looking down on him, Hibari’s features changes subtly from passive to satisfied.
Good, Hibari finally says, triumph in his eyes before pivoting on a foot and heading towards the stairs leading down the rooftop of Namimori High.
Grinning even more as he watches the receding figure, Dino reaches for his phone to have Romario arrange for a private hotel suite tonight, just him and Kyouya. When asked why, Dino simply replies, I guess I passed, and left it at that.
iv. time machine
“Honestly, Kyouya, how old are you?” Dino asked, as he languidly traced patterns on Kyouya’s back on a bed in a hotel somewhere in Japan. It had, now and then, been poking at his Roman Catholic conscience.
“Old enough.” Kyouya mutters, distinctly annoyed.
Any other time, this would have been good enough, or at least Dino would make it seem like it was good enough, and they’d leave it at that, Dino would carry on cuddling Kyouya while Kouya pretends he isn’t being cuddled. Not this time. He stopped tracing patterns and propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Kyouya who had his eyes closed.
“Seriously. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? You’re in, er, what grade level are you in again?”
Sleep not forthcoming, not with Dino firing out questions at him, Kyouya cracked an eye open and managed to glare with just that one eye. The Italian was not deterred, however, and continued to ask him questions, casting doubt to his validity to even still be in high school (as if Kyouya would ever leave Namimori high). This continued on, with Dino’s doubts bordering on aspersions, and Kyouya’s glare becoming more and more murderous (he would still not give Dino the information he wanted badly).
“Does it matter?”
Kyouya said, flippantly, as if it didn’t strike at the heart of the matter, as if it didn’t silence Dino. With no answer forthcoming, Kyouya turned to his side and once again closed his eyes. The room they had in the hotel is expensive enough to filter out sounds, and in the silence Kyouya was able to catch Dino’s whispered response, somewhat filled with shame.
“Sometimes it does.”
Without a hint of mercy or any other soft emotion Kyouya turns again to look Dino full in the face.
“How about you borrow that cow brat’s bazooka and get the older me here and fuck him instead?”
And, prickling conscience forgotten, Dino is reduced to a bundle of protestations of love, devotion and loyalty (it’s still smacks of infidelity, he thinks) in the face of a bemused Kyouya who might get to sleep soundly after all.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
end.
have fun reading, and reviews are welcome.
No proper DinoHiba fanart yet, but I have four drabbles. I think they're not too bad (well, they're not long enough to morph into some hideous D18 ooc fanfic that I may be capable of writing). They're behind the cut:
Though Everybody Here Thinks He Needs You
(a collection of D18 drabbles by the Butler)
Four D18 drabbles of no less than 300 words each. Theme/word prompt selected randomly from a Talecraft™ card deck (ingenious little game, seriously).
Title taken from a Jeff Buckley song.
Warning: contains BOY LOVE, okay? If allergic, steer clear. Timeline vague and hazy and I don’t think the drabbles constitute one unified theme/story. Implied sex, swear words, and the like. Not beta-ed, so look out for horrible sentence construction, grammar, spelling mistakes and the like.
Contains: One Dino Cavallone (or is it Chiavarrone? I’m confused), one Hibari Kyouya, mentions of Romario, Mukuro, Namimori high, the conspicuous absence of Enzio and Hibird.
Diclaimer: the author makes no claim over the characters herein portrayed in a not for profit fan fiction. They belong to the creative universe of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! And it’s respective creator.
i. Body paint
His left arm bears testament to his will: the various tattoos he got in increments after Reborn’s hellish training, after that monumental fight where he opened (finally) his eyes, after saving his famiglia and supporting it on his own, after his father’s death and he took on forever the mantle of the head of Cavallone.
They are vulgar- blue flames, barbed wires, flaming skulls, rearing Italian stallions (vulgar like his new name, his moniker- the Bucking Horse).
They are indiscreet- it starts from the back of his hand to the side of his neck (like Enzio on a rampage, like the battalion of black suits following him everywhere).
They are flashy- the blue and the yellow and the black contrasting with his pale, pink skin, bold in their design and message (like his weapon- a bullwhip).
They are permanent, a promise in ink- he will die with them still on his skin (as he will die with the Cavallone famiglia name burned into his soul).
They were painful- not even the comforting presence of Romario and two other lackeys make the visits to the tattoo parlor any less excruciating to his arm. He could have left it in black. When asked, he said have it colored in, it’s all the same. The tattoo artist wisely did not argue, not with the look on his customer’s face. He sat there, minutes and hours, with the needle on his skin (like he sits at the head of the house of Cavallone, days and years, the pressure of death and life and the power to decide always on his shoulders).
Tattoos are testament of his will to lead, to protect, to honor the family, always. A calculated threat hinting at idle power, the paint on a warrior’s face. A warning. The Bucking Horse can and will fight.
Nevertheless, some days, he is grateful for a jacket to cover them.
ii. blackmail
Dino Cavallone, the mafia’s golden boy and most eligible bachelor, eventually settled down and married. Unlike Sawada Tsunayoshi, though, he married for the usual Mafioso reason- to have children to carry on the Cavallone name and/or strengthen connections with other mafia families. Nevertheless the Bucking Horse proved to be a good husband and a better father. To his family, to the people under the influence and protection of the house of Cavallone, Dino can do no wrong.
He could have destroyed all that with just one confession to a listening ear. It would spread like wildfire- not quite believed, but not entirely dismissed either. Dino Cavallone is too perfect- even the darling of the local parish church. Some people would believe anything if only to make someone seem more like them- scarred with imperfections. And this imperfection would be the best, because it would be true.
Kyouya Hibari could have brought Dino Cavallone to his knees with one careless rumor. His adoring wife would have been the perfect victim- to tell her how Dino would kiss Kyouya’s lips, how Dino’s hands touched him in turns gentle and rough, How Dino would flush red with exertion at every thrust, how Dino would repeat his name fervently like a prayer when they climax within seconds of each other, how it ends always with a whisper of words only ever meant truthfully for Kyouya and no one else.
It would shatter Dino’s perfect life. His family’s extreme devotion and loyalty to the best Cavallone boss in years would no doubt offer Kyouya crass money to keep their secret just as it is: a secret. He could even blackmail Dino himself, though the Mafioso boss never entertained the thought and trusted him completely. He could take absolute control of the Cavallone famiglia, even more than the Vongola can dictate by the intricate laws within the mafia.
But he does not.
Because things like that, only weak herbivores use, to make up for their lack of power.
Because ruining the house of Cavallone is not of his interest.
Because it is something that the likes of Mukuro would do, manipulating people and bending them to his will. And he is Hibari Kyouya, strongest Namimori Discipline Committee prefect in history, not Mukuro.
Yes.
Only for those reasons, and nothing more.
iii. test
Ah, Dino says, as if he has understood everything from Hibari’s intent to the meaning of Life, the Universe, and everything in between. He pulls out the bullwhip from somewhere behind his back, probably tucked into his pants’ waistband or belt, and uncoils it with usual panache. It flicks elegantly against the air, force and leather producing a beautiful cracking sound.
This is a test, he says, and adds for good measure, you mean to test me.
Hibari snarls, annoyed.
Don’t worry, Dino replies, daring to be a bit cheeky, I’ll ace your test, no problem.
Hibari lunges without warning, sudden and hostile and ready to kill, spurred on by Dino’s unwarranted sass. The Italian smirks, everything going according to his pace. Parry, dodge, turn, hit, smile never leaving his face, Dino manages to get close enough to whisper into Kyouya’s ear.
Don’t worry, he repeats, I don’t break easily.
He was right in assuming it would affect Hibari enough to warrant a little widening of the eyes; he was wrong in assuming it would stop Hibari from delivering a painful backhanded counter-blow to his left jaw. Dodging the severity of the blow in the very nick of time saves him from a broken jaw and weeks of bland hospital food (not that the famiglia can’t do anything to make a hospital stay seem like a five star hotel vacation). However the force is enough to bring Dino to his knees and, as he takes a hand to cradle the already blossoming bruise on his face, he manages to still smile. Looking down on him, Hibari’s features changes subtly from passive to satisfied.
Good, Hibari finally says, triumph in his eyes before pivoting on a foot and heading towards the stairs leading down the rooftop of Namimori High.
Grinning even more as he watches the receding figure, Dino reaches for his phone to have Romario arrange for a private hotel suite tonight, just him and Kyouya. When asked why, Dino simply replies, I guess I passed, and left it at that.
iv. time machine
“Honestly, Kyouya, how old are you?” Dino asked, as he languidly traced patterns on Kyouya’s back on a bed in a hotel somewhere in Japan. It had, now and then, been poking at his Roman Catholic conscience.
“Old enough.” Kyouya mutters, distinctly annoyed.
Any other time, this would have been good enough, or at least Dino would make it seem like it was good enough, and they’d leave it at that, Dino would carry on cuddling Kyouya while Kouya pretends he isn’t being cuddled. Not this time. He stopped tracing patterns and propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Kyouya who had his eyes closed.
“Seriously. How old are you? Fifteen? Sixteen? You’re in, er, what grade level are you in again?”
Sleep not forthcoming, not with Dino firing out questions at him, Kyouya cracked an eye open and managed to glare with just that one eye. The Italian was not deterred, however, and continued to ask him questions, casting doubt to his validity to even still be in high school (as if Kyouya would ever leave Namimori high). This continued on, with Dino’s doubts bordering on aspersions, and Kyouya’s glare becoming more and more murderous (he would still not give Dino the information he wanted badly).
“Does it matter?”
Kyouya said, flippantly, as if it didn’t strike at the heart of the matter, as if it didn’t silence Dino. With no answer forthcoming, Kyouya turned to his side and once again closed his eyes. The room they had in the hotel is expensive enough to filter out sounds, and in the silence Kyouya was able to catch Dino’s whispered response, somewhat filled with shame.
“Sometimes it does.”
Without a hint of mercy or any other soft emotion Kyouya turns again to look Dino full in the face.
“How about you borrow that cow brat’s bazooka and get the older me here and fuck him instead?”
And, prickling conscience forgotten, Dino is reduced to a bundle of protestations of love, devotion and loyalty (it’s still smacks of infidelity, he thinks) in the face of a bemused Kyouya who might get to sleep soundly after all.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
end.
have fun reading, and reviews are welcome.