tyl shoichi

anonymous asked:

Tyl Vongola first imprinting on SO?


There was a flash of color, a flicker of hair, and sudden breeze as someone sprinted past him, forcing the boxer to jolt to a stop in surprise and turn to see the runner. He just caught the tail end of them as they jumped on top of a dumpster before leaping for a fire escape and pulling themselves up. Ryohei could only stare in astonishment of the sheer speed and agility the person possessed as they clammered up the stairs and onto the roof as if it was nothing, disappearing from sight entirely.

There was the sound of angry shouting and a couple of police officers rounded the corner with a furious merchant, one that he recognized having visited the very produce stall belonging to the red faced and huffing man. Having caught sight of Ryohei, they immediately accosted him and demanded that he tell them if he had seen someone coming running past… someone matching the appearance of the mysterious sprinter exactly.

“I did,” he told the group easily. “They went that way.” He pointed further down the road that lead into the alleyways, a maze of narrow roads found everywhere in Italy, not all of them closed and they usually lead into bigger streets with crowds. A logic choice for a runaway thief to go, and the pursuers knew it. Still, they weren’t giving up without a fight and run in the direction indicated.

Ryohai watched them go with a smile, bringing out his cell phone to make a call. He hadn’t pointed them in the right direction because, like it or not, the quick-footed thief had caught his attention and he wanted to have them for himself.

(besides, did you see how fast they went? Vongola could easily put such a runner to go use)


Your movements were sure and precise, flowing from one action seamlessly into another; the pleasant sounds of a samisen filled the room, putting the visiting group at ease as they chatting quietly, enjoying the ryokan that they had reserved all to themselves for the week, a feat they could easily do as Vongola’s sky and respective guardians. The fact that Hibari also personally knew the owner likely helped.

Several things had changed since the last time he had visited here: tatami mats had been recently replaced, there had been an expansion, furniture rearranged… and different employees as well as more of them in general. He didn’t recognize you, one of the few permanent geisha employed there to entertain guests. He didn’t feel compelled enough to approach you, but instead merely deemed to observe you instead, interested in seeing for himself what made you valued enough to remain here as staff.

So far, he had not been disappointed.

The song came to an end as you took as short break to drink some tea, giving a demure smile to Yamamoto who had said something to you. He couldn’t hear what you said in response or what your voice sounded like, but he imagined that it might be sweet and airy like Hokkaido milk bread.

You bent over to reach something, delicate hand stretching out before carefully grasping what you sought… But Hibari’s eyes were more focused where your kimono had slipped slightly at just the right angle to reveal the base of your neck to him. He tried to force himself to look away, but he couldn’t.

You happened to glance up as you straightened, catching him staring. You gave a tiny jerk of surprise before a small coy smile appeared for approximately half a second. He blinked; it was gone.

Hibari didn’t imagine it, though. And if some herbivore was going to tempt him, they better be prepared for the consequences when he takes them up on their invitation.


He glanced over to the counter again as he dithered by the selected of sweets on the wall, slightly obscured from sight by a stand filled with more confectionary. You met his eyes and smirked, blowing a large bubble with your gum until it popped sharply. Lambo flushed in embarrassment at having been caught staring and forcibly made his selections.

You didn’t say anything when he placed the candy on the counter, but somehow you unreadable look seemed that much worse than any disparaging comment you could’ve made. Despite the tutoring Reborn, Tsuna-nii, and Fuuta-nii put him through, Lambo fidgeted and felt tears of embarrassment prickle the corner of his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have stared, he just knew it, but he couldn’t help it! If there was ever a ‘type’ that he would be attracted to, you were it, immediately drawing his eyes back again and again. Oh, and making him lose his head too, of course.

“Do you like red or green grapes better?” You asked idly as you meticulously entered the total on the old-fashioned register — efficiency sacrificed for aesthetic.

“R-Red?” He answered hesitantly, it coming out more like a question than he would have liked.

“I like green. It’s more sour, has more of a bite to it.” You popped another bubble before stating the total due and moving to the side out of Lambo’s direct view, presumably to get a paper bag for the candy. He hurriedly handed over the proper amount of bills and you took your sweet time in getting out the change, to make him suffer as much as possible obviously.

Picking up the paper bag and handing it to him, you counted out the money out loud before handing it to him, but Lambo had been too anxious to leave to have been paying much attention. Reborn would have been greatly displeased if he knew about the lightning’s lapse in awareness. Lambo left the shop as soon as he could.

It was only when he was putting the money away about a block down the road that he noticed the slip of paper which had a phone number and:

Hey, Cowboy, nice ass. Feel free to booty call me anytime. xoxo


He entered the main store for his supplier, the bells at the top of the door jingling, only to hear furious shouting, “The hell do you mean the whole shipment’s out?! I reserved that stock months in advance, I waited for almost a year until you could find a new source, only for you to tell me that you sold everything to a third-party?! What the actual fuck, man?! I thought we had a better working relation-ship than that; I’m your most reliable client!”

“Our longest one, maybe,” another voice conceded. “But this client, you don’t understand, Name, they are the biggest source of our income.”

“Oh, I understand just fine, have enough money waved in your face and you’ll completely disregard the policies,” the first voice spat disgustedly.

“It’s not just that, Name, they…” The second voice, probably the clerk’s, trailed off. “You can’t refuse them.”

There was a long pause before the first voice spoke again, defeated and small, “But the whole shipment? I only needed a fraction of that for my craft, you know this.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I can offer discount for next one —“

A bitter laugh. “Sure, what’s another nine months? A woman could have a baby in that amount of time, you know. And I could be ruined. I can’t work without it and without work, no pay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” came the heavy sigh. “Please put me on priority this time, double the amount. I’ll take your closest substitute.”

“…They… also bought all of that.”

Son of a bitch —!“

A vase went hurtling by and almost hit Gokudera in the face. He caught it before it could be broken.

“O-Oh shit,” you murmured weakly. “I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” He took in the stress lines and pinched look around the eyes; a glance down revealed worn and scarred hands, bandages at the tips. The air had the scent of menthol and aloe, known pain relievers for aches and burns. You clothes were dusty, but not just with dirt… Gokudera could tell there were particles of things much more valuable speckled there.

He spoke finally, “How did you order originally?”


“Of helmi powder, how much did you order?”


“—much did you order? Last time.”

“…Two kilograms.”

He turned to the clerk, “Detract that much from our purchase and give it to them. Quickly, please. I’m in a hurry.” Stunned silence followed, but the worker was quick to do as he was told. It was two kilograms less than what he had thought he would originally have to work with, but he could relate to being in your position, having been there many times himself before joining Vongola. It wasn’t pity that he did this, but understanding.

“Thank you,” you murmured behind him, but left it at that; not daring to question generosity when it was given, for fear that it could be taken away just as easily. Still, you catalogued his appearance and your sharp eyes managed to catch a name from the hasty signature given. A lot could be found out from a name…

Weeks later, a package in the mail addressed to one Hayato Gokudera appeared. Inside were several specialty crafted fireworks. Inside was a note thanking him for the favor, signed with your name and sealed with a kiss.

Out of curiosity and no small amount of foolishness on his part, he placed a finger on the blue dusty residue that made up the kiss and tasted it. Helmi. He smiled.


The thunderous sound of taiko drums filled the air, thrumming and rattling his bones with the power of it as it echoed over the temple grounds. Yamamoto came here for the Obon Festival in Namimori as was tradition, taking a well-earned break to spend the next fortnight with his dad. They would spend the next two days after tonight visiting and cleaning the family graves.

Looking up onto the stage that was placed to the side, his eyes skimmed over the performers, most of them blocked from view until he rested his gaze on the tail-end drummer closest to him playing one of the three ō-daiko drums (each of those three being about two meters in height).

He blinked in surprise at the size of you; for a taiko drummer, you sure were puny!

As if somehow hearing his thoughts, you gave a quick frown into the crowd before pounding on the drum in front of you a bit more viciously.

(Yamamoto would find out later from talking with you, that you had been stood up by someone else and that you agreed to go on a date with him that night half out of spite)


You strode into the alley, frowning at the map of Venice’s streets you had in your hand. Muttering quietly to yourself in fractured Italian, you tried to make sense of the foreign names of each street and remember the route back to your hotel. The only warning you got was a footstep behind you before a hand landed on your shoulder.

On autopilot, you made a motion to stab at the offending hand with what appeared to be a knife…

Tsunayoshi Sawada, only had a split second to smack the hand to the side hard enough to send the would-be weapon flying out of your grasp, revealing it to actually be a big car key that had been thinly covered with mist flames. He only got to appreciate the surprise for an instant before you managed to smack him upside the head with your map.

“Touch me again and I’ll do more,” you hissed defensively, backing away with the map raised in threat, it now posing as a wooden cricket bat. “Try me, punk.”

He laughed, apologized before trying to keep a straight face, and laughed some more. You were about as intimidating as a small kitten to him, and the both of you knew it. Eventually, he calmed down and offered you directions since you had looked horrendously lost earlier.


Bored beyond all hope for a reprieve as he lounged in the library, waiting, Mukuro took to using his illusions to amuse himself. Namely, by terrorizing the librarian at the desk. A lot of it had to do with the fact of how they reacted, doing their absolute best to remain utterly silent and not disturb the quiet of the building. 

They were still rightfully horrified, disgusted, and panicked (of that, there was no doubt); but their first instinct wasn’t to kill the offending creature.

Rather, they slammed a giant glass terrarium dome that used to cover a stuffed snake to trap a conjured bird. Sliding the dome over to the edge of the desk and covering the bottom with a portfolio, they quickly stood over to a closed window, opened it, and released the ‘bird’.

Mukuro had given you a few minutes to recuperate before evilly sending a rather large spider their way. It actually took you a moment to notice it before flailing and slamming your cupped hands down on the arachnid. He honestly thought you had ‘killed’ it until you walked away speedily over to the window with clasped hands and released the second illusion. He blinked, stunned at this happening a second time, having planned to make all evidence of the spider disappear the moment you lifted the weapon of choice, because no knowing where the spider went after trying to kill it often freaked people out more than spotting it the first time.

Intrigued now, he conjured a rat and sent it over after an hour. He was not disappointed.

Ripping off your sweater, you stalked the illusion down aisles for finally striking, covering the ‘rat’ with you sweater and hold it tightly but gently amidst the thrashing. You face was the perfect mixture of a terror and blind panic and you walk quickly to the library door (ignoring the odd looks that were sent your way), went outside, and turned around the corner by the bushes. Then you released the conjured rat with flourish away from your body before sprinting like the hounds of hell were on your heels back inside the building.

You had been so disturbed by the past hour and a half, that you didn’t reprimand Mukuro for cackling somewhat loudly before giving him a dampened withering look. As if he had no idea the struggles and trials that you had just went through.

anonymous asked:

Your writing is stupendous! Could you do a soulmate au w/Tsuna, & he's an apathetic, playboy jerk to s/o @ first, but they act like they don't care either & they act it perfectly. They give as good as they get & drive Tsuna wild until he claims them.

On the skin of their left breast, right above where their heart is located, people are born with a soulmark.

Every person’s soulmark was unique, the one phrase their counterpart uttered that stood out the most within the first hour of their initial meeting. The mark having been recorded on their chest, before they ever even met.

Sometimes people were born with hand signs on their chest, inspiring them to learn sign language. Some were in quotation marks, their counterpart having been encountered through media (one notable incident involving one counterpart being a telemarketer and calling the other without realizing it).

There was never a guarantee that you would find your counterpart, there being plenty of those whom never did, but there was always the chance you would… And that fueled the ambitions of many to go out searching for someone they might never find.

(inspired scores of international conventions where people were randomly sorted into groups of ten and spent one hour together, just talking in the hopes that one of them ended up being their match; if nothing happened, they would shake each others hands, wishing each other good luck and parting)

Another thing that was never guaranteed, was that it would be a romantic interest on the other side of that mark or even just one singular marking. There had been many reported cases of quasiplatonic-soulmarks and even select few poly-marks where there had been more than one counterpart. Sometimes, a person wouldn’t even end up liking their counterpart at all.

One thing that was for certain, though, any relationship one had with their counterpart, whether it was romantic or platonic or even one of mutual dislike, was intense and passionate and more emotionally invested than any other connection with a human being. One way or another, counterparts would be gravitated to one another, for better or for worse.

“Hey there, mind if I buy you a drink?” A man asked as he sidled up next to you, dark eyes roving over your rather provocatively dressed form.

Glancing at your half-empty pint before looking back at the interloper with a squint, you answered, “Yes, actually, I’d prefer if I remained uncompromised by whatever drug you’re thinking about slipping in it.“

“You got the wrong idea! I wouldn’t drug your drink, I’m not that kind of guy,” he squawked, caught off guard by the sudden and casual accusation.

It only garnered him an unimpressed and scornful glance from you before you dismissed him entirely with your body language. Already bored with the conversation, you grumbled, “I don’t know you from Adam, so I’ll have to pass. If it’s just a ploy to chat me up, I’ll save you some time: I’m not interested. At all. I’m here to relax, not have a one night stand or start a relationship with somebody. Why don’t you go ask the guy in the green shirt? They look interested.”

On the defensive, he snarled, pride sufficiently bruised from the gruff and rather ugly brush off, “You don’t have to be a bitch about it, jeez. Just say no.”

You remained unruffled, placidly responding with, “I did. You didn’t listen. Bye.”

With a tsk, the man left and blessed silence reined for a little while longer until:

“You know, he only wanted to get to know you.”

Somewhat exasperatedly glancing at the figure that slipped into the seat next to you and ordered a brandy with some ice, you absently responded, “More like he wanted to get into my pants, you mean. Generally, the people at bars either want to get drunk, celebrate, relax, or get lucky. You don’t go to bars to meet people, that’s what clubs and mixers are for, what the purpose of those monthly international conventions are for. I just don’t want to be another statistic.”

Hooded amber eyes flickered in your direction, eyebrows raised in incredulity. After a beat of silence, he managed, “…You make it sound as if you’d die if you went out with someone from a bar.”

Feeling a little playful, you quipped, “I might. There’s lots of sketchy folk out there. Who knows who you’ll bump into?”

“Devilishly attractive young men?” He offered a smirk in your direction, leaning closer with his arm propping up his chin on the counter, obviously attempting to be smooth. Alright then, challenge accepted.

Turning to face him properly now, you teased, “Really? Mind telling me when you spot one? Preferably one who isn’t a fuckboy?”

He recoiled a bit in shock at being blatantly called out, “O-Oi, have a little heart! That was quite cold.”

You tensed in surprise, turning back away to finish off your pint, heart beginning to pound as the phrase echoed in your mind. Have a little heart… Rubbing your chest discreetly with one hand as it prickled in reminder of what was forever engraved there, you mumbled, “Call ‘em like I see ‘em. Anyway, have a name, hotshot?”

“All the ladies call me Tsunayoshi,” he purred.

You grimaced, “Sure it’s not ‘sleazy’? I got all the wrong vibes when you did that, Tsuna. Or Yoshi. But I don’t know, you seem more like a ‘Tsuna’ to me. Makes you sound less pretentious and more approachable. See, look, less of a fuckboy already.”

He made a face, “Your bluntness is offensive. Don’t you have any tact?”

“None,” you relented agreeably, heart finally starting to slow down as you eased back into pace with the conversation. A subtle glance at the clock told you that it had been about four minutes. Fifty-six minutes left to see if the playboy next to you was really your counterpart or another unfortunate false alarm. “But that’s part of my charm, you never have to guess what I’m thinking, just need to ask. A lot people say they think it’s refreshing, but they’re probably just being tactful themselves.”

“Quite possibly,” he allowed, smiling a little bit despite himself. “You still didn’t give me yours.”

“Oh, right, I’m [name],” you answered flippantly.



“Nothing, I was just testing it out loud,” he snickered. “Rolls right out the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“And you are a terrible flirt.”

“‘But that’s a part of my charm’!” Tsuna mocked in a falsetto voice, clearly imitating you as his amber eyes glinted in mischief. He grinned roguishly when you giggled despite yourself. 

I could get used to this, you thought. A glance at the clock. Forty-three minutes.

You made to say something but were interrupted by a phone ringing and Tsuna’s playful expression melting into one that was rather… intense for lack of a better word. His tousled hairstyle seemed to shadow his face dramatically, dark brown eyebrows drawing together in a frown as his eyes seemed to flash orange (a trick of the light?) as he glared a hole into his coat pocket. Pursing his lips in an attempt to hide the snarl that briefly appeared, Tsuna muttered, “I need to take this”, finished off the tumbler in one go and slapping down money before hurriedly striding away from the bar counter, retrieving his phone and answering it.

He made a study of a harried man with too many responsibilities than what was probably healthy, hunched in shoulders and an agitated gait. You noticed for the first time that he was wearing a suit. It complimented him nicely, providing a flattering look for his butt especially. You could probably bounce coins off of it.

“I’d be careful with that one,” the bartender muttered as he took the empty glass, cleaning it. “He always has a different partner every time he comes in and you’re a good person, y/n. Don’t want you getting yourself hurt, especially with the crowd he throws his lot with.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. He doesn’t play for keeps but for fun. I caught a glance of his soulmark once; there’s a scar obscuring it, like it had been scratched out angrily with a knife. People like him? You gotta watch out for; they’ll eat you alive, if you’re not careful, take your heart along with ‘em.”

And with that ominous warning, he left you another pint before moving on to serve the other patrons. Have a little heart… The words haunted you, had always haunted you throughout your childhood. You had made a point to be kinder then, to try to make it so you would never hear those words uttered, because they always sounded so sad to you; a plea in a future that you were pretty sure you didn’t want. But things changed, people took advantage of your kindness, and you grew a backbone. Have a little heart…

You looked up as movement in your direction caught your eyes: Tsuna. You hesitated when he smiled at the eye contact. It seemed like a risk, to ‘have a little heart’ when there was the very real possibility of it being stolen with no regard to it.

But when the smile wavered a bit, almost unsurely, you felt your compassion make you want to take the risk, one last gamble. You grinned back and gave a saucy wink. Twenty-eight minutes left. You could do this for twenty-eight minutes.

As he slid back into his original seat beside you, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “The bartender mentioned you had a dark side.”

A surprise blink before an unreadable look crossed his face. Quietly, he joked, side-stepping the dig for information, “It’s what probably drew him to me.”

Most people who have probably taken the hint and dropped the topic, but you weren’t ‘most people’. Trying again, you prodded leadingly for clarification, “Your oh-so-mysterious dark side?”

“Sure, why, don’t you have one? Oh, wait, stupid question, I bet you’re one of those hopelessly delusional optimistics who dot their “i’s” with little hearts,” the tone was almost biting, buttons were obviously being pushed, meaning there was also some truth to what the bartender had said.

Only the slightest bit uneasy at the realization, you sniffed dismissively, “I’ll have you know, I have just as much of a dark side as the next person.”

He laughed but his tone of voice wasn’t all that amused. Actually, his voice didn’t give away his thoughts or emotions much at all. “Oh, really? Impress me.”

“I have a soulmark complex,” you admitted challengingly, sharp eyes catching the small twitch you got in response. “I used to hate mine. Still do, probably. I did everything I could to make sure it was never said to me. I’ve had nine false alarms. All of them ended badly. Usually with me getting into a fight, because people pissed me off when saying it. It makes me wonder how much worse yours must be that you would scratch it out, if it’s something that I’ve said or am going to say in the next ten minutes, or if you’re also going to be just another false alarm.”

“…I’m not drunk enough for this, but fuck it, why not? Something about you puts me in the sharing mood,” Tsuna muttered, eyes stormy and still glinting orange once in a while, despite the fact there were no candles or flickering light to create that affect that you were aware of. “I was bullied horrendously when I was younger because of mine, to the point where I learned it was better to keep it covered. Mine practically guaranteed that my counterpart would hate me. So, I went about convincing myself that I didn’t care, and after the first several partners, I believed it. I don’t need a counterpart to be happy when I can go out and find plenty of people willing to throw themselves at me with all the companionship I could ever want as many times as I want. I cut it out because I didn’t need a reminder of failure.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, “With an attitude like that, I can see why! I want to feel bad for the people you used so carelessly, but only a fool would fall for you. We’re not your consolation prize, Tsuna, so don’t treat people like one!“

Tsuna stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief before narrowing in consideration. “You know,” he began quietly, voice hushed but so, so dangerous with all the implications behind it. Despite yourself, despite your indignation with his playboy tendencies and the looming disappointment, you leaned in closer to hear better. “The truth is, it wasn’t just to remove the symbol of my failures as Dame-Tsuna, my weakness, but it was also to seal the vow I made that day: to make my counterpart swallow those words by becoming the biggest fool of them all.”

“And just what do you mean by that?”

“I’m going to make you fall in love with me.” Leaning forward across the bar, he kissed you, mouth moving possessively over your own, leaving you breathless and dazed in seconds.

“Damn,” you murmured, the moment he pulled away. “When you go and say things like that, when you do things like that, Tsuna, you make it hard for me to not like you.”

Scenario: Hibari + Xanxus + Byakuran think their s/o is a spy, since they can’t seem to physically hurt or torture them (because they still have feelings), they insult them, degrade them and also, how they react when they react to their s/o when they’re proven innocent

It started when he entered his office only to see you holding high-risk, classified papers in your hands that very clearly belonged on his desk and not in your grasp. At first he had only been angry at the intrusion of his space while he wasn’t present and without his permission… but then he had started to wonder if there had be a more nefarious cause behind you being in places you clearly shouldn’t be.

That maybe you weren’t really a civilian at all, but a spy from another famiglia.


His frosty behavior and blatant ignoring of your presence had set you on edge he could tell, tension thick in the air after the first week of silence on his part. He wasn’t one for making wild accusations and the idea of torturing you for information was unthinkable, because what if he was wrong? He still loved you, the thought of you in pain, the thought of him being the cause of your agony, was intolerable.

(just last month, before all of this had been a problem, Hibari had been inapproachable in his wrath after he had heard that you skinned your knees after someone had run into you on the street and disappear without making reparations)

But even still, there was no denying the possibility of him being right.

So, he gave you the cold shoulder; looked right through you as if you didn’t exist, were beneath his notice, every time you opened your mouth to say something. Because if he didn’t, he would do something he would regret and he wasn’t a man who made a habit of making regrets. Still, the thought, the very idea, of such a betrayal simmered and festered in his mind, eating at him day and night as he waited for the extensive background check his Foundation members were doing for him. Hibari’s patience and temper grew shorter and shorter; incidents where he ended up breaking something becoming more common.

The breaking point was when you finally gathered the courage to ask him, somewhat waspishly, if there was a point behind his sulking and silence.

“I don’t make a point to waste my time with a rat,” he snapped immediately.

“And just what is that supposed to mean, Kyōya? I told you I was sorry. I didn’t realize that your silly little club from middle school was that important to you! Your office had been collecting dust in the time you’ve been away at work and I know how you are with cleanliness. I wanted to surprise you —“

“— well, you certainly succeeded —“

“— with a clean work space! I thought you were better than this, sinking to the level of a little kid and sulking. I know you’re not much for words but this relationship works because communicate and keep an honest… Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because it’s entirely possible that you haven’t been honest with me, y/n,” he answered lowly, voice cold and deceptively calm, coal eyes narrowed into slits with a flash of purple in his anger. “Those documents you looked at were classified. You were never supposed to even be in that room without my permission, or have you forgotten? The chance of there being a leak —“

“— is nonexistence because I can’t even speak Spanish in the first place and my English grades were dismal,” You interrupted, hands shaking. “I didn’t even get accepted into the high school of my choice, Kyōya, and you’re calling me a criminal mastermind?”

“…It’s Italian,” came the half-hearted correction.

You threw your hands up in the air, exasperated. “It could be Greek and I still wouldn’t understand it! And I never will unless it’s in plain Japanese. For all I know, it’s our next tax return!” Your face crumpled with despair, tears tickling the edges of your eyes, and Hibari froze, a brief flicker of panic coursing through him at the sight. He had already being halfway through the motion of embracing you before he realized and stopped, leaving his arms stretched out awkwardly. He put them down. Voice wobbling, you continued, “I don’t know what else you want me to say or what I could do to convince you, Hibari.”

“Y/n,” he murmured numbly, shocked at the formal address. The panic turned into unease, and he couldn’t feel anything, dread at the implications overtaking him. This was wrong. Everything was wrong and his instincts were screaming at him to do something, to stop you from leaving before it was too late, but you were already turning away from him.

And you look so vulnerable, so weak, so herbivorous, that Hibari was at a loss. This wasn’t something that had a simple answer for him. It wasn’t a straightforward problem anymore about a possible spy, it was you and it was complicated because he couldn’t just treat you like he would anyone else. He couldn’t even bring up the issue directly like he would if you were one of his subordinates and intimidate the truth out of you, because you were supposed to be a civilian. Clueless.

And now, now when it was about to lead into ruined, did he realize how much keeping you in the dark may have been a mistake.

Hibari wasn’t a man who made a point to go out and create regrets for himself, but when he received the results of the background check and you proved to be innocent… This one mistake that he would forever feel shame over making, because it was one that could have been easily avoided.


Out of the two of them, you had always been the more patient one and the voice of reason, generally not letting any insults or names bother you… But most of the time, they were meant as a joke or there was no heat behind his words. This time was different. And, God, did you know the difference between when Xanxus was being ‘playful’ and when he was seriously pissed off.

(because there was a distinction between when he called you a bitch when you opened the curtains to let in sunshine at ‘an unholy hour’… and when he got one of those calls with his boys on the other line and snarled ‘that bitch’ to himself)

So all those snide comments about trustworthiness, honesty, and being loyal; all those remarks about being sneaky, betrayal, and backstabbing; you could tell that he was genuinely upset and bitter about something… It just wasn’t until he finally said it outright that you couldn’t deny any longer that you were the one he had been grumbling and snarling about, “I don’t even know if I can fucking trust you with anything anymore.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You gritted out, shutting the drawer filled with kitchen knives a little more firmly than necessary. It looked like dinner would have to be put on hold for the moment.

“Exactly what it fucking sounds like, Y/n. I don’t think I can trust you.”

“Are you still pissed about me going in your office?! I apologized royally for that and you should know since one of your boys is a goddamn prince. I thought you had gotten over that.” Actually, you knew that he hadn’t but had secretly hoped that he did and had just being stewing over something else. It had been a big breach of trust on your part, you knew this now, but at the time, you have just wanted to surprise him… Had picked up some random, boring business paperwork to place aside so you could pose dramatically on the desk just as he walked in. Xanxus had completely flew into a rage after one split second of stunned silence.

He had yelled at you for thirty-six minutes straight without interruption, three minutes shy of the record. It didn’t feel like much of an honor to be the reason of his second longest rant.

With a start, you realized that he had been saying something during your brief lapse of attention, “… going behind my back!”

Suddenly, it all seemed to make sense to you and hot righteous indignation rose up within you. Flatly, voice deathly steady, you asked, “Do you think I’m cheating on you, ‘Xus?” He froze in shock, but you took that as proof of his guilt. “Oh my God, you do, what the absolute fuck?! No, you shut up and listen to me for once! We’ve been together for six years, ‘Xus, six whole fucking years, and you think I’m cheating on you now?! If I was going to screw another man, I would have had the decency to break up with you first, that was one of the first damn things we agreed on, you dumb-shit. Second of all…”

Xanxus, in the meanwhile, was at a complete loss as to how he had lost control of the situation and just how it devolved into you thinking that he was accusing you of cheating… Which he kind of was, but in terms of working for another famiglia, not in the general sense of sleeping around! His attempt at correcting you fell short.

“Well, if you don’t think I’m cheating on you, then what is it that I might have done to piss you off?” You demanded, arms crossed and still looking furious.

Xanxus was unable to give a straight answer and felt a note of disquiet grow within himself when it looked like you were about to cry in frustration. Spies were notoriously good actors, had to be to survive getting the better of him as he was good at telling if someone was lying to him, but this, your upset, it felt real to him, genuine. He was unable to tell if it was because you weren’t really lying at all or if it was because he was so emotionally compromised that he was unable make any judgements accurately. It scared him, and when he got scared, he got angry.

And when he got angry (truly and honestly angry, not one of his daily frustrated and stressed out rampages), he tended to not think, just act. Act in the most cutting and merciless way possible.

In straight out battles or on an assassination mission, this was a great strategy to have. However, if one was getting into fight with their significant other, it had the tendency to backfire and cause more problems instead of lessen them. Case in point being when Xanxus ending up putting the proverbial foot in his mouth and making you finally snap, leaving to go stay with your parent to give him a week to ‘get his shit together’.

He threw a whiskey bottle at the wall after you left; it didn’t make him feel any better.

In the time it took to get the results of the background check, he half-convinced himself that he’d prefer it if you were a spy, that it would be less painful than being wrong and having to live with the horrendous mistake forever hovering over the relationship.

When it turned out you were innocent, he spent the rest of the week provided wallowing in misery and guilt.

He didn’t drink a drop of alcohol until you came back.

(Xanxus was more grateful than you would ever realize that you came back as you said you would, not abandoning him even after his fuck up.)

Byakuran (sorry his is so short, I don’t have good enough of a grasp of his character, his ‘voice’ so to speak, to do much more than introspection, so no angsty argument here or accusations. -__-;;):

The worst part was, he hadn’t foreseen this coming, in any of the alternate universes. You had always either been by his side (sometimes as a partner or a subordinate or a maid or even just a friend, but you had been present) or weren’t even in the equation at all.

The possibility had constantly lurked there, in the back of his mind, the idea that you might one day be the one of the other side of the chessboard, working against him and world domination… but without it actually occurring in front of him, he had been able to successfully repress the thought, as if it had never existed.

And now, here he was, paying dearly for it.

The one time he let down his guard, taking for granted your loyalty, and you stabbed him in the back with no remorse, just as heartlessly in the hopes to reach your goal as he, himself, always did. In a manner of speaking, Byakuran was almost proud. He was certainly impressed that you had managed to get this close, the closest anyone had gotten to being the cause of his ruin (other than one Tsunayoshi Sawada, of course). And it almost did.

Ruin him, that is.

To have the one thing he had always been certain of, the one thing he had been dependent on (without realizing it, even!) to suddenly be called into question? It was disorientating at best and utterly devastating at worst. Byakuran was on the middle ground between the two, and only retained a firm grip on his sanity and wildly-fluctuating emotions because it hadn’t been proven for sure, yet.

(was it too much to hope that he was wrong; did he deserve even that much happiness; because the thought of you not belonging to him and to another, in any capacity, just made him so angry that he didn’t want to rule the world but see it burn instead)

He said nothing about his suspicions to you, but he knew that you suspected that there was something off anyway when he refused to leave you alone at all for any long length of time. Because he had a plan. One that would require you to be studiously kept under watch by no one other than himself if it was going to work, regardless if you were really a spy or not.

Because Byakuran didn’t care if you belonged to another famiglia, he was going to permanently claim your flames as his, razing any and all competition for your loyalty to the ground.

(and when he later finds out that you really were innocent and loyal to him all along, he had to fight conflicting reactions of relief and disappointment, because you were his now permanently, and the idea of a traitor you was a lot hotter than he cared to admit once he got past the hurt and need to kill everything)

anonymous asked:

Scenario where Squalo’s younger!Gf accidentally call him daddy during a meeting? Not necessarily because they have daddy kink just it’s one of those brain fart moments.

(I’m assuming that the S/O is female, giving that it was specified to be a younger girlfriend, so feminine pronouns are used here!)

The main Varia Guardians and their Sky held an occasional meeting overviewing their branches as head of a particular Dying Will Flame division. It wasn’t regular by any means, taking into account conflicting schedules and how chaotic it could become within the first half-hour with all the various and slightly-unstable personalities in the room. Disruptions were common and expected.

Sometimes it was Squalo snapping after it’s reveled that such and such a division was having some infighting with another and just how much the cost in damages was. Once there was Belphegor having a momentary leaving of his senses after receiving a particularly bad paper cut and getting his blood on his report. Other times it was Xanxus being later for the meeting because he had forgotten about it only to show up after an hour since it had started.

In this particular account, it was the Cloud Division Head who was responsible.

Normally, she didn’t make slip ups like this; never had the problem before now, in fact. Part of it was her great pride in the standards she held herself, to be the epitome of ‘Vaira Quality’, constantly. To be the Head of any of the Dying Will divisions, let alone Cloud, let alone being female as well, required her to work that much harder than her peers. And when someone was to take into account that she was involved with another Division Head who was also one of the main Guardians to the sole Varia Sky? This meant she was under constant scrutiny and under pressure to prove that she wasn’t made Head because of who she was sleeping with.

(and don’t even get her started on her age)

Taking all of that into consideration, they could probably understand everyone’s reaction when she said, “Here are the numbers you requested, Daddy. As you can see, there was a steep decline in outbursts and flares after…”

The meeting room was dead silent, eyes riveted on the frozen couple who were staring at each other in dawning horror. The spell was broken with Xanxus’s barking laugh and Squalo’s choked, “V-Voi, just what — what the hell was that?!”

She sputtered, “Oh my God, I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out, I wasn’t thinking, I don’t know where It came from.”

“So that’s what’s going on between the two of you,” the Boss smirked between cackles, finally in a good mood now that something actually interesting occurred. Tormenting his right-hand was too good of an opportunity to pass up. “When the fuck were you gonna tell me you were into that kinky shit?”

She hide her flushed face in her hands, claiming rather plaintively, “Sir, it was an accident! It’s not a reflection of our private life —”

“Shishishi, this Prince doesn’t believe a word you say, the evidence speaks for itself —”

“And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean, you royal pain in the ass?! Age has got nothing to do with this —”

“Oh, but that’s adorable,” Lusseria was briefly cut off by several guffaws and a muffled shriek of embarrassment, “The fact the two of you have pet names for each other —”


“Uh oh, Daddy’s mad…”


Just another day at Varia Headquarters.  

anonymous asked:

Their s/o's idiot ex has come back and are trying to woo them to the point they're getting forceful and handsy. What would Tsuna, Xanxus, Yamamoto and Dino do?


- He would get straight to the point, grabbing the offender’s incriminating hand in a harsh grip, growling, “They said ‘no’. Back. Off.”

- If the ex tries to put on a brave face and start something with the Don, chances are high that they’re probably going to get a broken hand when all is said and done.

- The ex will apologize, one way or another. And to Tsuna’s satisfaction, not just the S/O’s, who would probably ‘let them off easy’ according to him.

- When S/O isn’t present, Tsuna would likely threaten and intimidate the hell out of the ex, letting it be made absolutely clear that behavior like that is not at all tolerated and that they best move out of the country. Quickly.


burn them with wrath flames until there’s nothing but ashes

- In all seriousness, he would probably pull a gun on the ex. Might fire a warning shot instead of actually shoot them. Not because he doesn’t trust his aim, but because his S/O doesn’t need ‘the scum’s shitty blood’ sprayed all over them.

- He would actually shoot them in both hands if S/O is a bit panicky around dead bodies instead of outright killing them. (“scum like you don’t need those fucking disgusting mitts if your gonna paw on what’s mine) But prefers the more satisfying head shot, right through their filthy mouth that had been whispering lewd comments and lies into his S/O’s ears.

- He doesn’t really bother threatening, more like bellows profanity and insults before skipping straight to the gun part.


- To be perfectly honest, his reaction is the scariest out of the other three. While they are more obviously menacing, there is just this undercurrent of… something when Yamamoto happens upon the scene. His expression doesn’t change and neither does his body posture, but there’s this undercurrent of shitboiyoubetterbackoffrightnowifyouwannalivetoseetomorrow and youdidnotjusttouchmybaenotifyouwannakeepthosehands.

- Will casually twirl baseball bat or sword that he has on hand or perhaps lean on it. (“Haha, what a funny game you’re playing there.” Eyes glint with the color of the coldest iciest blue: the color of sharp steel and merciless waters. “Mind if I cut in?”)

- Ends up not having to actually do anything to the ex. Their imagination and Yamamoto’s intimidating aura and the freakishly terrifying smile of his does the rest.


sic his attack-turtle on them

- He’s actually angry enough where even if his men were nowhere nearby, he’d still be able to beat the ex senseless, no grace needed to punch them in the face and maybe break their nose.

- Might actually chase them off with that whip of his. Forget a gun, they aren’t even worth the bullet.

- Thing is, Dino’s not just satisfied with chasing off the ex or giving them a permanent reminder that it’s generally a Bad Idea to do what they did (not to mention terribly rude), he’d be the vengeful type that will make the repercussions of their action will haunt them years later, affecting not just them but anyone the ex gets close to (because if that’s how they treat his S/O, who’s to say that they won’t do the same to others who don’t have a protective boyfriend to help out? Best to discourage others from getting too close for their own good).

- The ex’s reputation will be ruined pretty quickly. Any financial troubles or misdeeds done will be brought back to the forefront. Debt collectors will likely be hounding them for quite a while, preventing them from imposing on other individuals who might be more vulnerable.

anonymous asked:

Can I see a continuation of Tsuna and his S/o who had the soul mark complex? Thank you very much XD- Silver56

(part one can be found here.)

“You haven’t asked me yet.”

With a frown, you lifted your head off of Tsuna’s bare chest, hand pausing in its absent-minded tracing of old scars, including but not limited to the knife-scratched remains of his soulmark.

(Eerily enough, you could only make out the words, ‘Only…fall…’ It seemed like an order; one that you couldn’t help but obey.)

“Ask you what, Tsuna? To marry you? I’d have to find a big enough rock that would please you first…”

He let out a snort, “No, and in any case, I would be the one proposing, thanks.”

“Hmm, whoever does it first wins that argument,” you answered breezily before prompting again. “Ask you what, Tsuna?”

“What I do for a living. How I got all these scars. Where I go all the time. Who those calls are from. Everyone else did by this point, but you… you’re not. Why?” You could just barely detect it; subtle but there all the same: helpless frustration. It hard to say whether it was at past lovers for their need to pry to get to know him better or at you for your self-control which might have come off as a lack of interest now that you thought about.

“Well, it’s not as if you’d tell me if I did,” you countered. “If you were going to tell me at all, you would’ve offered up the information sooner, like back when the subject of my job came up.” At his unreadable look, you rolled your eyes and continued, “Plus, given everything I do know about you from hearsay, my own conclusions, and what you yourself have told me; you’re probably: a government agent, a secretive individual with a desperate need for control and an air of mystery like a CEO for some big company, or a criminal and probably a crime boss specifically…

“In any case, someone in a position of power given how high in demand you are and how much money you have to flaunt around… And that means you’re probably not in a position where you could just flat out tell me without either killing me or forever getting me involved.” You smiled sharply. “And I know how possessive you can get, you like to keep things separate and to yourself, so that means keeping your soulmate away from that life, a slice of normalcy, yeah? I’m the thing that never changes, and you wanna keep it that way.”

There was a line where, if it had been anyone else other than you, that monologue would have doubtlessly crossed it. Your counterpart was tense, expression horrendously blank, and his eyes a smoldering orange like the depths of a wildfire in the heat of summer… Then he blinked and the moment of danger passed. There was no other indication but that to tell you that you escaped something… decidedly unpleasant.

You gave no hint that you had sensed this.

“There are times,” he mused, “That you are too smart for your own good, or at least are too observant. A criminal? Let alone a crime boss? Who would guess that off the top of their head?”

“Well, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I dated a drug lord once,” you offered flippantly, resting back against Tsuna’s chest and returning to tracing his scars. Part of it was to put him at ease and the rest was to create a sense of this whole conversation being less of a big deal than it really was. Besides being an incorrigible flirt and playboy, Tsuna was also the biggest drama queen you ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“…you what.”

“Dated a drug lord, granted I didn’t know that until he got arrested and the both of us were dragged out of the house into the streets where the cop cars waited to put us in jail… but there’s no denying that you both are giving me the same signals. Oh, don’t give me that look, I got off easy because I wasn’t involved in any way and knew fuck-all about the whole thing.”

Tsuna shook his head in disbelief. “You are just full of surprises, you know that, Y/n? What’s making you stick around if you ‘know’ that I’m a criminal?”

“One, you’re more successful in getting me to fall for you than you realize. Two, I’ve been arrested, but never convicted, for associating with one, so I figure I could pull it off a second time if you do something stupid. And three… well, I haven’t come up with a third point, but pretend I did.” You stretched languidly before making to roll off the bed; an arm snaking around your waist to haul you back into back and against a naked chest prevented that. You let out a whine, “Whaaat?”

“Just like that? You would accept all of this so easily?” He was baffled, uneasy, and almost hopeful? It was hard to tell, you couldn’t see his face or eyes. Still you could sense the unasked question: you don’t want anything from me? Anything to buy your silence or your assured safety? No threats of blackmail (even though I could always eliminate you easily enough)?

“Well, yeah,” you huffed. “I guess the only thing I have to say about all of this, is that you either keep me out of it completely or tell me everything fucking thing you’re doing. I don’t want to be in prison for thirty-plus years without full knowledge of why exactly I’m in there with you for.”

A pause before the arms around you squeezed tightly and shifted so that you were more in an embrace than restrained. Tsuna gave a spontaneous kiss to the nape of your neck and you felt your whole face flush in response. Before you could even gather your thoughts together to demand an explanation for the playboy’s abrupt mood shift from brooding to affectionate, he murmured in your ears, “I am the Tenth Boss to Vongola, the biggest and most powerful mafia famiglia in the world… And I want you to be there by my side.”

You held your silence for approximately three seconds. “Did you just propose to me?”

You felt Tsuna’s lips curl into a smile against your neck. “And if I did?”

“If this was to just win the argument, I swear to God I’m going to castrate you for getting my hopes up, Tsuna.”