Warning: Some are very short, some retarded, and some really stupid you'll want to claw your eyes out after reading. In short, beware.
(corporate AU, ladyassassin27)
“That,” Lelouch gritted out, “is impossible.”
Odysseus stammered an indignant reply, torn between hurt and intimidated by his youngest brother’s reaction. Lelouch was vicious toward what he deemed as stupidity, especially now that his division was facing a credible threat. The Avalon, a new rising company in advertisement business, had proven itself quite a match to his genius.
“It isn’t exactly impossible,” Odysseus murmured defensively.
Lelouch’s laugh was derisive. “If it’s useless, what does it matter?”
“The idea is not entirely without merit, little brother,” Schneizel pointed out, as usual using endearments as means to insult. Clovis, eager to please his second brother, frowned in justified agreement.
At the head of the table, Charles smiled and let his sons make fools out of themselves, himself content to watch.
(this is the way the world ends, aishuu)
It only took her ten years.
Lacus clasped her hands together but did not pray. In the silence she waited, wearing her old robe of neutrality and feigning ignorance, assuming deafness for all that the screams came from within. Her office was a stranger’s, white walls and flowers paintings and framed pictures of smiles on her desk.
The hands before her were smeared with red.
“We have become what we dread most,” Cagalli had said, always too forthright with thoughts others persistently kept mute in their head. Athrun had refused to look at her, and even Kira had bowed his head, a sign of defeat. But they had no choice, when the peace they had fought so hard for was threatened.
There had always been two paths, branches of the same road of one’s life. Their choice had never been between right or wrong, bad or good, but to be right, or to be good. When they had decided that one man’s existence was much too dangerous for their hard-earned peace, they had chosen.
How shallow, Lacus reflected, how arrogant to think us so incorruptible. But such was youth, lending courage in place of caution, confidence instead of forethought.
Now, there was no turning back. When the phone on her desk rang, it was Kira’s muffled voice which told her, very plainly, “It’s done.”
Lacus swallowed too many questions—are you injured, how was it, are you okay—and felt her head reeling from the clash of unvoiced emotions. Not here. Not now. They didn’t know who might be listening. She only murmured a small ‘thank you’ and then put the receiver back, ignoring how her fingers trembled so.
Silence returned, her heartbeat calmed, and her hands were once more clasping each other—but Lacus did not pray. Gratitude she could not feel, forgiveness she could not ask. This was her choice.
TSUBASA RESERVOIR CHRONICLE
(and then they all lived happily ever after, electrumqueen)
His mother told him this story one night.
There was once a boy who lived beyond the world’s notice, with only a human doll as his company. To this doll he then gave half of his heart, along with his hopes and dreams, so when the time came for him to fall to a long sleep, the doll would live in his place.
In dreams, he watched worldly changes ebb and flow through the doll’s eyes, all stories bared to soothe his lonely heart. The doll took its master’s appearance as well as his disposition and kindness, and for this it was dearly loved. In dreams, cold and friendless, the boy wept. For all these smiles received and loves offered, they knew only the doll but not the boy—loved only the doll but not the boy, for how could anyone love anything unknown to them?
Until one day, the boy woke up and two halves of the same heart eventually merged into one. The doll died, once more lifeless, and the boy took his place. When the shadow had become the master, no one knew, but a heart too long divided was no longer whole. It could not survive alone.
The prince never heard the end of the story, too soon embraced by sleep and a dream of a father he had never seen. Sakura smiled, kissing the top of her son’s head. Her own dreams were of a boy she had met long time ago, later a husband she had lost to arrays of broken memories, incomplete without their halves.
Sleeping beneath the palace, Syaoran did not wake.
KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN!
(fem!dino x male!hibari, theburningempty)
“What,” Hibari deadpanned, “is the meaning of this.”
Dino sighed but did not shift from her kneeling position, elaborate red dress pooling about her. “I’ve waited for three years since you came of age and you still haven’t made a move, so now I’m proposing. Will you marry me, Kyouya?”
The diamond ring glittered, a flirtatious temptress. Hibari ground his teeth together and retorted, “No.”
A roar of laughter came from the ballroom, the New Year party still in full swing. Dino shook her head and thus the golden ringlets framing her painted face. “I knew you’d be difficult. Let’s talk sense here, Kyouya. You don’t want to marry me but you beat up every other man that comes within my ten-metre radius bar Romario. My Family still needs an heir, so what do you suggest that I do?”
When it was evident that Hibari would stubbornly cling to his sullen silence, she rose to her feet, wide brown eyes regarding him softly. “Look, the last time we made love–”
“I was drunk.”
“You took advantage of my low alcohol resistance.”
“I did not!” Her voice rose and for a moment Hibari thought she would throw the ring to his face. “You were the one who took off my shirt and tossed it to the other side of the room!”
“I. DID. NOT.”
“Yes, you did, but it hardly matters now—what’s important—”
“Of course it matters! You’re accusing me of—”
“Kyouya.” She suddenly stepped closer, her gloved fingers cupping his cheeks. “I’m pregnant.”
(D18 superhero!AU, flying_embers)
[On the roof of Namimori’s Police Station]
“But I want to help you!”
“Shut up,” Batman hissed. “You’re Namimori’s White Knight. You do not hide behind a mask. Face your felons forthrightly under all that sunshine you love most.”
“But... wait, how do you know I love sunshine?”
“Oh Batman, you care after all~ :3”
(Gokudera POV in girl!bari-verse for The Wedding, aventria)
Inside the cathedral the air is stagnant, even under so lofty a ceiling, filled with undulating murmur. Outside, Gokudera inhales slowly, each breath stilted by loss of that faint bitterness—but bound by sacred rules, he will sooner burn hundreds of lungs than disappoint the Tenth.
Mrs Cavallone, he thinks, scorns, face turned toward cloudless sky. Signora Cavallone, perhaps, if she so wishes. One name given to another: Kyouya Cavallone—Kyouya, Kyouya, for all that she has ever been is Hibari.
A man does not, never, grovel. He waits with back straight, shoulders squared to fill out his designer suit, but when she steps down from the car, Gokudera holds his breath.
Even under the veil, her smirk stings.
(Hibari as Dino's teacher, evocates)
From fingers shaking of exertion, the whip slipped—yet again—and Hibari struck merciless.
The boy did not fight back, arms a farce of weak defence across shirt stained with blood and mud. His tonfa felt the weight of thousands pretexts but not a sliver of guilt, so mired in ten, twenty years of nothing and naught. Trapped in a world not his own, Hibari limped on one foot.
“Get up,” he snapped, more callous than his steel. The boy looked at him, through dirty blond hair and childish hate which set his eyes ablaze. Pained sounds that never made it past clenched teeth now fuelled a reckless hunt for vengeance—and this, at long last, allowed Hibari a distorted smile. He dodged the pitiful attempt and delivered a hard kick to the unbending curve of his spine; that this boy would grow up hating him was only a matter of time.
Fresh cuts bloomed along white arms too long sheltered from the sun. Hibari turned up his nose in distaste, his only visor against frustration, and fell back on words which had carved themselves to his tongue.
His voice shook, a lesser mistake lining greater ones, but this he scarce noticed; his eyes sought the length of black whip instead, Reborn’s only decision and that one unchanging despite different steps, worlds at opposite ends of a scale.
He would have given the boy anything but.
The timid, gentle touch to his sleeve came as a blow. He snarled at this brazenness, rebelling against a face he still carried deep within, a name so far removed from this boy whimpering at the end of his tonfa.
A name, face, voice, did not make a person—but never had it meant so much and yet mattered so little.
(d18 Romeo and Juliet AU, istrill)
But for a lady and tender love spurned, young Cavallone would not have sought for diversion and thus found one in the bosom of his father’s enemy. Such adventure appealed; Tsuna was inclined to disagree, but for the sake of a beloved cousin disappointed in romance, he kept his devoted silence.
The mask stifled so, nevertheless a constraint he must be encumbered with. The number of guests further impeded his progress, but stalwartly did he make his way amongst clouds of perfumes and whispers of lacy sleeves. A soul far too easily seduced by life’s many splendours, his susceptible cousin likewise enticed troubles with nothing but mere smiles. Tsuna had long since considered it his duty to stand between them, and when the sought-for voice finally reached his ears, he was relieved beyond belief.
“My dear cousin, I have found her!”
Tsuna had barely said a word when the other took his hand and soon they both had withdrawn to another part of the hall. “Blind, how blind I have been,” he was speaking, enthusiasm sparked by every word. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty till tonight. Pray tell me, who is she?”
Should his flighty cousin find another person to love, Tsuna would only be too happy for him; but when he looked upon the lady acclaimed to be worthy of such praise, he froze.
Thus it began, the tale of two Houses, Herbivore and Carnivore, Dino and Kyouya.
('thief of hearts' Hibari and someone who isn't Dino, dame_batsie)
Hibari was no stranger to pain, the faithful comrade of a good fight. Too many cuts and fractured bones only somewhat stifled his agility, not his desire to win. The shame of defeat, however, burned through his battered body like a lance of ice, alien and decidedly worse.
He blinked his eyes open in the dark and the first thing he remembered was Rokudo Mukuro’s taunting laugh.
That his cell phone had rung was his first incentive to move in the combined haze of pain and humiliation. Hibari reached toward the sound, ignoring countless violent protests from his abused body, but then found that the effort was too slow. His phone had run out of battery.
A sudden urge to throw the device to the other side of the room was overwhelming. It wasn’t any concern toward his numerous injuries, however, which stilled his hand, but a song too well known to his ears. The high-pitched voice was unfamiliar, almost offensive and decidedly unpleasant if not for the song itself. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the room’s unbroken gloom, he perceived the source of the voice; a small, yellow bird, bold enough to flutter down to his knee and from there repeat the song, all over again.
Hibari soon discovered that he did not want it to stop. Its soft, chirping voice did not quite soothe his bruised ego, but he uncurled his hand and let the cell phone fall to the floor.
The bird continued to sing.
(Cavallone is a priest-type clan and Hibari is a wandering spirit Dino ought to exorcise, azurecerulean)
It was another perfect, perfect opportunity.
Against every rebelling emotion, against every fervent entreaty made by his weak mortal heart, Dino reached out and touched the base of the boy’s neck, where his pulse point once had been. Kyouya turned around and his eyes recognised betrayal, but from Dino’s lips the prayer had fallen.
“Padre nostro che sei nei cieli, sia santificato il tuo nome...”
The face which had haunted his dreams for too many nights now contorted into a furious scowl, grey eyes ablaze in the swirl of silvery mist. With most of his strength firmly sealed, there was not much the spirit could do—and word by word, Dino persisted. His aching sorrow proved a formidable opponent, matched only by its estranged brother to which he desperately clung: guilt.
A spirit so attached to a place, even one as beautiful as Namimori, must be suffering greatly for this continued, drifting existence. Kyouya was strong, but Dino had long since suspected that his constant string of defeats had been the work of his own weakness. Months of fighting him, knowing him, smiling at him for the sake of curiosity—are you that unhappy, Kyouya, to always wear frowns—had not yielded nothing. That Kyouya had learnt to trust him with his back was one. That Dino had again and again turned a blind eye to a perfect opportunity was another.
“...e non ci indurre in tentazione, ma liberaci dal male. Amen.”
A spirit did not belong to the world of the living. He reached out for the last time, to touch Kyouya’s cheek, and watched it disappear from the tip of his fingers into thousands silver threads—and then, nothing.
What he did was kindness. Standing alone in the moonlit street, Dino tried so hard to believe it.
Notes: Three drabbles are still being written: destinedcarcass's SchneiSuza, theburningempty's fem!dino x fem!bari, and arisuesei's Hades!Dino kidnapping Persephone!Kyouya orz