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hopeswriting · 2 years ago

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EVENT: KHR Rare Pair Week 2022

PROMPT: Day 4 - Fake Harem AU

PAIRING: Sawada Tsunayoshi/Vongola Tenth Generation Guardians

SUMMARY:

Tsuna just has to fake it for one night, and then fakes a big breakup or whatever. He can manage that much, surely, probably. Hopefully.

Oh, please, God, let him manage that much.

RATING: G

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

TAG WARNING: Swearing

WORD COUNT: 12024

LINKS: Ao3 & Ff.net & Vietnamese translation & Spanish translation

[Plain text:

EVENT: KHR Rare Pair Week 2022

PROMPT: Day 4 - Fake Harem AU

PAIRING: Sawada Tsunayoshi/Vongola Tenth Generation Guardians

SUMMARY:

Tsuna just has to fake it for one night, and then fakes a big breakup or whatever. He can manage that much, surely, probably. Hopefully.

Oh, please, God, let him manage that much.

RATING: G

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

TAG WARNING: Swearing

WORD COUNT: 12024

LINKS: Ao3 & Ff.net & Vietnamese translation & Spanish translation /End PT]

“I’m already seeing someone,” Tsuna blurts out of desperation, lying through his teeth, because he’s very much not. But he’s been rejecting Matsuda for five minutes now, and hopefully this will make him take the hint.

Matsuda stops in his speech about the many reasons why Tsuna should give him a chance because he just knows they’ll get along with each other, surprise then disappointment flickering across his face. “Oh. I’ve never seen you with anyone like that, though. Or heard you talk about anyone like that.”

Tsuna gaps. What even—?

He tries to say something, opening then closing his mouth multiple times as words keep failing him.

Is Matsuda really asking him to justify himself to him? Or convince him, or whatever this is?

They aren’t even friends! They’re nothing more than colleagues, and even then, they don’t even work in the same department! How Matsuda even knew when to come find him just as he was getting himself a cup of coffee at the vending machine, he doesn’t know.

They literally don’t even work on the same floor, what the hell?

“Yeah, that’s—I mean, that’s my private life, isn’t it? We’re both just very private people, that’s why.” He smiles politely, then pointedly looks past Matsuda down the hall at his office. “Sorry, but—” He steps aside, but so does Matsuda, blocking his path again.

“Yeah, I guess some people are just like that, uh?” He laughs, and if he notices Tsuna’s strained smile, it doesn’t seem to bother him. “Ah, I kind of feel jealous, though. I bet she must be really pretty, isn’t she?”

Tsuna laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, she is. Lucky me.”

“She is a she, then?” Matsuda asks, stepping forwards, and Tsuna holds on tight on his cold cup of coffee between them. Matsuda’s smile is still friendly, but he doesn’t like the glint in his eyes. “Yeah, I bet she must be that pretty. It’s just, you know, Sawa told me you said it was a he when you rejected him just a week ago.”

Tsuna gaps again, floored, and now a bit wary of him.

What, he background-checked him? What the hell is even going on? Why are they even still having this conversation? Tsuna’s pretty damn sure the first words out of his mouth were a polite but firm and explicit “no”.

“I’m bi,” he blurts out again. Wait, no, that’s not the important thing. “I mean, I’m dating both. At the same time!” he hurries to add, because the last thing he needs is for people to think he’s a cheater. “I—I mean, they both know I’m dating the other one too—”

Matsuda puts his hands on his shoulders, beaming. “Oh, so you’re polyam too?” He’s what? “That’s great, me too!”

“O-oh?” He laughs. “Yeah, I am,” he keeps lying through his teeth. He can guess what being polyam means from context, and he didn’t know it was a thing, but thank God it is. “So…” he trails off, looking past him at his office again, because this is it, right? This is finally the end of the conversation?

“Is that what was bothering you?” What? “Because it’s totally fine, I can even meet all three of you at the same time! I’ve never been afraid of crowds, and I’ve always been told I make really good first impressions, isn’t that great?” He shakes him playfully, then laughs all by himself at his own joke.

Oh God, no no no no no— “Wait—no, we can’t—you can’t—”

Matsuda frowns, stilling. “What? Why not? Come on, I’m single, so it’ll only be the four of us. It’ll still be manageable.”

“R—right. Right, but it’s just—well, you see, actually, there isn’t only the three of us. We’re, um—there’s already too many of us—I mean, just enough of us”—God, is he even making sense?—“and, um, we’ve agreed not to… take on anymore… people. Um, yeah, so…”

An awkward silence settles over them, and stretches, and stretches, and stretches between them.

Matsuda will totally call him out on his bullshit, won’t he?

Matsuda drops his hands from his shoulders just as Tsuna’s about to make a run for it. His face is unreadable, his smile even still on his lips, but Tsuna still reads the suspicion all over it.

Yeah, he’s screwed.

“Oh,” Matsuda says, his voice deadpan. “How many are you, then?”

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. What’s the right answer, the right number?

Is there even one, or is that just a trick question?

Fuck.

Tsuna smiles, straightening to his full height, hopefully showing nothing but confidence and inspiring nothing but trust.

He opens his mouth.

“You what?” Reborn says, like he didn’t hear him perfectly the first time, and Tsuna can’t hear the amusement in his voice.

He groans in his hands, his elbows resting on Reborn’s desk. “I’m not saying it again. That’s not the point anyway!” he says, snapping his head up and slamming his hands on the desk. “Guess what he said after? He said I totally should bring them to the company birthday party, and that he was looking forward to meeting them, and that we just all might hit it off during the party anyway!”

“You what?” Reborn deliberately says again, just to drive even more home how stupid he is and how stupid he thinks he is, as if Tsuna didn’t already know both.

Tsuna groans, hiding his face back in his hands. “Just kill me now. Please, Reborn, just take me out right now.”

Reborn chuckles, and the sound of his keyboard tells him he’s back working. “First of all, my office isn’t the place for you to come complain about your ridiculous life. Second of all, I am the person you should come complain to about your ridiculous life first and foremost, and if that ever changes, I’ll kill you both. Finally, and most importantly, you’re hilarious and so fucking stupid, never, ever change.”

He laughs more openly, and Tsuna considers banging his head against the desk until he blacks out.

“Thanks,” he deadpans dryly. “Any other helpful words you want to throw my way?”

“Last time I checked, people just said no to people confessing to them when they didn’t feel the same.”

“I did!” Tsuna shouts, showing his indignant face again. “That’s literally the first thing I said, but he just wouldn’t listen to me!”

“Then you should just have left, you didn’t owe him any more than that. Then again, you wouldn’t be here now if you had, and what a shame would that have been for me?”

“Please, just tell me how to get myself out of this.”

Reborn raises his eyebrow. “How else? You told him you already have multiple partners, so show them to him.”

“Yeah, and I lied about it, that’s the whole problem! No, I’ll just have to miss on the party.”

Reborn scoffs, looking away from his computer again to narrow his eyes at him. “Sure you will. The party is mandatory, Idiot Tsuna. I’ll hunt you down and drag you there myself if you dare skip it.”

Tsuna narrows his eyes right back. “You just want to watch me make a fool out of myself.”

“You just always do it in such an amusing way, I’m only but human,” Reborn says, smirking, every inch of it fitting for the evil, merciless demon he is.

Tsuna wants to scream, but only groans again. “I’m quitting.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“I’m going to take me out myself.”

“Keep me updated on that.”

“I hate you so much.”

Reborn laughs. “You’d be nothing without me. Now get the hell out of my office and get back to work. And do make sure to show up to the party. I, too, look impatiently forwards to meet your six partners, so do your best to not disappoint me.”

“I hate you so much.”

Reborn rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop whining already. The party is in one week, and it's plenty of time for you to come up with something. Do you know how many partners I could find myself in one week? Real ones too, obviously, but there’s only so much you can do.”

Tsuna bangs his head against the desk, wishing for the sweet release of death.

Tsuna times his arrival to the party for when it should already be well on its way, hoping to hide in the crowd. He shows up to it still with no partners, fake or otherwise, let alone six of them.

Reborn sits at a table across the room with the other big names of the company, and Tsuna knows he already knows he did nothing during the last week but work himself into a frenzy about how he had to do something to get himself out of this mess, but Reborn still subtly raises his glass at him, smirking.

Tsuna doesn’t need to have a good look of his face to know he’s unsurprised, but beyond amused to see how much more of a disaster this is going to be.

If Tsuna had a glass of his own he’d wish really hard he could throw it across the room right in his face, but Reborn’s the least of his problems now.

The joke’s on him anyway, because Tsuna has planned for this. Yeah, that’s right, he did. He figured that once backed against a corner with no way out of it, he’d have no choice but to come clean to Matsuda about the whole fake partners thing. It’s going to be one hell of an awkward conversation to have for sure, but at least it’s only going to be for one moment during the party, instead of Tsuna spending the whole night pretending to be romantically involved with six people he couldn’t possibly find at this point to play pretend with him anyway.

That’s right, everything’s under control. And talking about Matsuda, here he comes from the side where the food and drinks are, making a beeline for him. Tsuna is still at the doors, though he moved aside to not block the path, and he waits for him because he’s going to be an adult about this.

Which he is, so this should be a breeze, right?

Matsuda closes in on him, and Tsuna goes the opposite way in the fastest, most natural fleeing pace he can manage.

Nope, nope, nope, he just can’t be an adult about this—has been already once to be fair with him, but it clearly didn’t work, and Reborn’s right, there can only be so much that can be expected of him.

Tsuna frantically flickers his eyes around while trying to keep it as natural as he can, looking for someone—anyone to be one of his fake partners.

The most notable achievements of the company from the year are exhibited on that side of the room, people walking slowly along the display or stopped in front of the tables, large boards, or projections to appreciate more everyone hard work. One of them catches his attention, a tall man in a tailored black suit and a purple dress shirt, short black hair with no other defining features he can catch because he has his back to him.

His figure’s familiar so Tsuna makes for him, ignoring the feeling telling him to back off, not him, anyone but him.

It’s not like he has a choice anyway, literally running out of time.

He smiles like he knows who he’s about to talk to, if nothing else because he feels Matsuda’s eyes on him, but also because he’s supposed to know him, right? He’s supposedly just about to catch the attention of one of his partners after all.

Yeah, right.

“Excuse me?” he says, lightly putting his hand on his arm.

Hibari turns to him, and frankly Tsuna only feels like bursting out laughing, because would you look at that, it’s Hibari Kyoya he’s about to ask him to be his fake boyfriend. Because of course it is.

Hundreds of people in this room, and he just had to be instinctively drawn to Hibari Kyoya of all people. Like they’re on good terms or anything.

They’re not.

Wow. Just wow.

Hibari Kyoya.

Tsuna can just hear Reborn already laughing himself to tears but still managing to look cool and composed as he does so, and you know what? He deserves this one.

“Hiba—Kyoya,” he corrects, still smiling and looking him right in the eye, making sure to appear at ease through his body language like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Hibari raises both his eyebrows at the same time, then slightly frowns after a beat when Tsuna doesn’t rush to take back his words. He pointedly looks down at the hand on his arm again, but Tsuna still keeps it there, and actually slides it down to hold onto his hand. He steps forwards, holding onto his other hand, then whispers, “Please, be one of my fake partners just for tonight.”

Hibari blinks, a deadpan expression on his face, and Tsuna almost laughs again, but genuinely this time because he had no idea Hibari could make those type of expressions too. The dumbfounded, absolutely floored, you-just-threw-me-in-for-a-loop type of expressions.

Tsuna doesn’t know either just from where all that gall is coming from him, but no, actually, he does. This is just about the worst thing that’ll happen tonight without a doubt, and there’s comfort and bravery and levity to take from that he sure as hell won’t deny himself of.

He was still going to be bitten to death anyway even if he had backed down at the last second, for having touched him or breathed the same air as him or something, so he has nothing to lose going for it.

“Tsuna, hey,” Matsuda calls out before Hibari can give him his answer, and Tsuna smoothly turns the both of them to face him, linking their arms together. He doesn’t push his luck actually leaning against Hibari’s side though, and he wonders if it looks too awkward to be believable. Matsuda stops in front of them, looks at them back and forth, looks at their linked arms for one long moment, then catches Tsuna’s eye again with a smile. “Finally caught you. Didn’t you see me come? It almost looked like you were running away from me.”

Tsuna laughs the thinly veiled accusation away. “I did, actually! But then I caught sight of Kyoya, and I just had to get my hands on him before he could prematurely leave the party. Maybe you already know how he is? His reputation always precedes him, isn’t that right, Kyoya?” He catches his eye, playfully bumping their shoulders together.

Matsuda laughs. “Can’t say I don’t.”

“Well, let me introduce you two anyway. Kyoya, this is the friend I talked to you about, Matsuda Arata. Matsuda-san, this is Hibari Kyoya, my boyfriend.”

Glass shatters on the floor as audible and visible shock hits the people around them within hearing range, dead silence falling among and around them.

Tsuna firmly, desperately keeps up the pretense of normalcy, ignoring the way Matsuda watches them, the way the people around them openly watch them, frozen in whatever they were doing.

A look from Hibari and they thankfully scatter like mice, though unfortunately, Matsuda stays.

Matsuda even smiles, looking at Hibari. “Right, your boyfriend.” There’s a laugh in his voice just waiting to spill free, and Matsuda lets some of it out as he looks at him, raising his eyebrows. “Really, Tsuna?”

Tsuna plays innocent, frowning while tilting his head.

So Matsuda doesn’t believe him for a second, obviously, who would ever, but so what?

“Something to say, herbivore?” Hibari asks, nowhere near as threatening as Tsuna knows he can be, but Matsuda still straightens himself, warily looking at him, all traces of humor leaving his face.

Tsuna has to try very hard to not grin with all his teeth out, gloating inwardly.

He is lying to Matsuda to his face, but what is he going to do about it, to say about it? Call out Hibari Kyoya on the lie?

Call out Hibari Kyoya’s potentially real boyfriend on his lie in front of him, however unlikely that option is?

Tsuna watches Matsuda force on a strained, tight, polite smile, and of course the answer is no. God bless Hibari. “No, it’s nothing. Nice to meet you.” He offers his hand, but Hibari doesn’t even look at it.

Instead he drags Tsuna a few steps away, their backs to Matsuda, and shit, shit, shit— “Explain, Sawada Tsunayoshi.”

“I already did,” Tsuna says, somehow keeping eye contact. “Matsuda-san doesn’t take no for an answer, so I somehow ended up telling him I was already seeing multiple someone, and, well—” He shrugs. “You’re the first person I thought of.” More like the first person he came across, but maybe Hibari will feel more inclined to help him if he puts it like that.

Hibari narrows his eyes, pursing his lips, and Tsuna gives him his best, helpless, pleading smile. Something flickers across his face then, too fast for him to put a name on it, but it seems to sway him a tad. He looks him up and down, like he’s seeing him for the first time, and Tsuna realizes it’s not quite anger Hibari’s feeling at the whole ordeal as a smile pulls at his lips.

Or, well, at least it’s not all anger.

Hibari pulls at their linked arms, closing the distance between them, then leans down to whisper in his ear, “I will bite you to death for this. Literal death.”

Tsuna laughs dryly. “Yeah, I could have used that like a week ago, but fair enough. Just let me know when you’re free.”

Hibari’s lips twitch like he’s fighting back another smile, curiously taking his face in, and Tsuna didn’t know he could look like that either. Especially not while looking at him. But thankfully he hasn’t the time to dwell on that as Hibari drags him back to Matsuda.

Not that there was anything to dwell on.

Right?

“Hey,” Matsuda awkwardly says when they stop in front of him again, keeping his attention on Tsuna, only daring to glance at Hibari.

“Who are you to him?” Hibari asks him suddenly, and it takes both Matsuda and Tsuna aback.

“What… do you mean? We’re friends. That’s what Tsuna just said, didn’t he?”

“Friends,” Hibari repeats, and manages to sound incredibly dismissive and deadpan at the same time. “Strange then I’ve never heard about you until very recently, and while I did, I heard you insisted for this to happen.”

Oh God, no no no no no— “Kyoya—” Tsuna tries, because what is he doing? Tsuna’s doing all this precisely so nothing confrontational will have to happen!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matsuda says, braver once more, steadier, apparently getting used to Hibari’s… everything. “Tsuna told me he was seeing people, and I was just curious to meet them. I asked once, and he said yes.” Oh, the little—! He literally left before Tsuna could say anything, because he knew he was going to say no! “Friends introduce each other to their partners, don’t they?”

“I see,” Hibari says, suddenly cordial, like he’s trying to deescalate the situation, but Tsuna knows there’s no way in hell it’s what he’s actually doing. “I suppose friends would do that, indeed. As long as you know your place.” And saying that, to drive his point even more home, he frees his arm from Tsuna’s to instead wrap it possessively around his waist, pulling him flush against his side.

Tsuna almost swallows his tongue.

He’s so not going to survive this night, one way or another.

And he’s only found one fake partner so far, God help him.

Matsuda looks hard at Hibari’s arm around his waist, and so would Tsuna if he hadn’t had to keep up the pretense of being used to that.

Of being used to the weight and warmth of Hibari’s hand against the small of his back, long fingers curling around his hip; to the feel of Hibari’s lean and muscled body against his side, steady under his arm as he instinctively wrapped it around his back; to be able to smell Hibari’s perfume, an earthy, flowery scent that seems to be all he can smell all of a sudden.

Yeah, right.

He’s blushing, blushing hard too, but that’s just normal, right? Just helps sell the bit. His boyfriend is being openly affectionate with him in public to assert dominance, so of course he’s all flustered by it.

Tsuna almost breaks into hysterical laughter right then and there, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard not to.

Hibari Kyoya is playing his fake boyfriend being openly affectionate with him in public to assert dominance.

Tsuna truly doesn’t know how he keeps getting himself into situations like this.

“I could use a drink,” Hibari says, unnecessary leaning in close like Tsuna won’t hear him otherwise. He’s knowingly smiling too, clearly having fun with all this, but Tsuna ignores it for his own sanity.

Why is he though? Does it mean anything?

“R—right, me too, actually.” Ha, could he ever. “The others might be around there too.”

He looks at Matsuda, who’s been staring all this time, but he snaps back to his senses then. “Oh, yeah, sure!” He grins, overly cheerful, but it’s still plain as day he’s seething. Tsuna doesn’t feel sorry about it one bit, not when he’s going through his own ordeals because of him. “I was actually about to get one myself when I noticed you, but it’s going to be even better to share it together.”

He turns away, taking the lead, and Hibari makes them fall in step with him.

Tsuna tugs at his jacket, making him lean in again so he can keep his voice low.

“Don’t pull at my clothes, little animal.”

“What are you doing?” he asks, smiling pleasantly, keeping an eye on Matsuda in case he turns to look at them, and he likes to think he sounds pointedly assertive instead of totally out of his depth.

“What else?” He pointedly squeezes his hip, and Tsuna’s breath catches in his throat, his body jolting from the touch, which only presses him further against Hibari’s side. Fuck— “Am I not meant to make him back off? Isn’t that what this is about?” He glances at him then, just so Tsuna can see he already knows he doesn’t have anything to say to that.

Ugh, what an asshole.

“Shut up,” he says, petulantly letting go of his jacket and turning his head away.

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh my God—really?” Hibari just smirks, and Tsuna hates him even more for it. “Yes, Hibari-san, thank you so much, I’m currently totally not having a terrible time. Can you now stop enjoying this so much? Thanks.”

Hibari actually chuckles low in his throat, and somehow, for some reasons, that’s actually something Tsuna’s already managed to get out of him before. More than once too. And he knows just the once is no small feat by no means. But he’s not going to think about it now, or ever, preferably.

“How many of these fake partners are there?” he whispers in his ear.

Tsuna winces, and there’s no hiding it from Hibari, but he still smooths his face back as quick as he can.

Right, two is a crowd, and there’s already two of them—three actually, and Hibari hates crowds.

This is going to be such a disaster.

Tsuna chuckles to buy himself time as he scrambles for an answer that won’t make the disaster happen too soon. “Take a guess?” is what ends up coming out of his mouth, his brain unhelpful as ever, but he stands by his words even faced to Hibari’s unimpressed face.

“So, Tsuna,” Matsuda calls out, and Tsuna almost feels grateful to him. “See anyone familiar?”

They’re almost to the tables with the food and drinks on them, and Tsuna lets his eyes wander over the people near them. He does find two familiar faces, and his mood lifts, relief washing over him, though with a bit of guilt for being about to involve them in this.

He did tell himself he wouldn’t do it over the past week, but…

He just really could use the help here, and now that he’s already doing this, it just wouldn’t feel right not to ask them for it anyway.

“Over there,” he says, gesturing with his head to the table Hayato and Takeshi sit at, a drink each in their hand.

He takes the lead with Hibari this time, and it’s obvious the moment Hayato and Takeshi notice them.

Hayato widens his eyes, his jaw dropping, while Takeshi raises his eyebrows, both their gazes taking them in, and getting stuck on their arms around each other’s. Tsuna brings his free hand to Hibari’s chest like he’s going to cozy himself up even further against him, mindful of Matsuda behind them, and Hayato’s jaw somehow drops even more, while an incredulous grin pulls at Takeshi’s lips, which he tries to hide behind his glass.

Tsuna doesn’t actually rest his hand against Hibari’s chest though, instead giving them an okay sign to reassure them this is all consensual. Hayato seems too shocked to process it, but he catches the subtle realization flickering across Takeshi’s face, God bless him.

“Tsuna, here you are!” he calls out cheerfully when they’re close enough. He puts down his drink on the table, then meets them halfway, clearly intent on a hug.

Hibari and him let go of each other just before Takeshi pulls him into an enthusiastic hug, Tsuna laughing then greeting him in turn. Hibari keeps walking to Hayato, Matsuda following his lead, but Takeshi still sways them side to side under the guise of enthusiasm, conveniently shifting them around until Tsuna has his back to Hibari, Hayato, and most importantly, Matsuda.

“I need three other fake partners, including at least one fake girlfriend for the night so Matsuda-san gets the hint,” he pleadingly, hurriedly whispers in Takeshi’s ear. “Five partners if you and Hayato don’t want to play along, which you totally don’t have to, it’s fine, but if you do want to, I really could use the help.”

Takeshi hides his face in the crook of his neck to hide his startled laughter. “Oh, Tsuna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, okay?” Tsuna says defeatedly. “But it’s not like I tried or asked to get myself into this, alright?”

Takeshi pulls away, chuckling. “Copy that,” he says reassuringly, cupping his cheeks, and as grateful as Tsuna is for the help, and actually reassured by it because God knows Takeshi has that way to always get himself out of situations like this unscathed, he can’t help but narrow his eyes at him.

Takeshi’s already having too much fun with this, and he isn’t even trying to hide it from him.

He’s going to make Tsuna regret asking for his help, isn’t he?

Takeshi grins wider, no doubt knowing exactly what he’s thinking, then leans in to kiss his forehead. It’s purposefully too sweet and lingering to only be friendly, and Tsuna can’t help but blush a little. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” he says, taking his hand and leading him to the others, like he doesn’t know it only makes him worry more.

The others couldn’t look more awkward standing next to each other if they tried, and why they didn’t take a seat and why Hayato stood up, he doesn’t know.

Hibari stands further aside from them, ignoring them in favor of his drink, unbothered by the awkward atmosphere, naturally.

Hayato flicks his eyes to them to Hibari to Matsuda, still comically holding onto his drink halfway up his mouth, clearly trying and failing to put it all together. He did manage to close his mouth by now, but doesn’t look any less lost than before.

Matsuda is also taking them in, and though Tsuna is genuinely friends with Hayato and Takeshi as everyone in the company knows, which should make them a lot more believable as his boyfriends than Kyoya, Hayato’s reaction alone is visibly making Matsuda confident in his suspicions all over again.

Fuck, how does Tsuna explain that and get Hayato in on the loop?

“Kyoya, don’t think I don’t have a hug for you too,” Takeshi says in lieu of greeting him, letting go of his hand as he makes for him.

Hibari’s eyes make it very clear just what he thinks of that, but Takeshi still goes for it, though only wraps his arm around his shoulders for a side-hug. He still nuzzles his face in his hair, and would you look at that, Tsuna’s already regretting asking for his help so, so much.

Takeshi’s going to make the most of this, isn’t he?

He’s going to push his luck with everyone that’ll end up involved in this, and is already purposefully trying to push his luck with Hibari, to see how far he’ll be allowed to push before Hibari snaps.

And Tsuna should have known, of course he’s going to do just that, so really, this is on him too.

“You should have told us you were coming. You almost gave our poor Hayato here a heart attack.”

Tsuna blinks. Then he tries very hard not to beam, because of course! That explains Hayato’s reaction nicely and believably!

Oh, whatever he’d ever do without Takeshi? He could kiss—he means, he’s super grateful to have Takeshi in his life.

Um, yeah, that.

“Yamamoto Takeshi.”

“Hm?” Takeshi says, like he doesn’t only just now stop nuzzling Hibari’s hair, like he doesn’t lean all his weight against him like he belongs there, like he hasn’t draped his other arm across Hibari’s chest to hold on his waist.

Tsuna wonders sometimes how Takeshi has managed to live that long, he really does.

Hibari narrows his eyes at him, but then smirks, and then whispers in his ear what can only be some terrifying, very explicit threat.

So of course Takeshi bursts out laughing, and then playfully bumps their hips together. “Maybe somewhere else,” he says, winking, flirting, with Hibari Kyoya, who has yet to stop him because they’re pretending to be Tsuna’s boyfriends, which apparently means they’re also each other’s boyfriends?

Tsuna did look into polyamorous relationships in the past week, and it’s a thing that can happen that all partners of the same polycule date each other, but they don’t have to go there, so what is Takeshi doing?

Tsuna bursts out laughing too. He hopes it sounds like he’s only getting in on the flirting too, even if it sounds hysterical to his own ears, like he’s losing his mind.

And suddenly, he feels a lot more sympathetic for Hayato.

This does look like the wildest fever dream he could come up with.

Right, Hayato.

Tsuna catches his eye, still laughing because he can’t seem to make himself stop, and he wills Hayato to get the situation through their shared gaze alone, or at least to start laughing like he’s getting in on the flirting too, hopefully in a more believable way than him. Hayato could do anything and it’d be better than what he looks like right now, really, though Tsuna does see the beginning of understanding in his eyes.

He steps forwards in his space, finally biting on his laughter. “Hey, Hayato,” he says softly, taking his drink from him and putting it on the table. He then holds onto his waist as he rises on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Hayato blushes, his breath hitching. Tsuna doesn’t remove his hands from his waist. “Takeshi is as shameless as ever, isn’t he?” he jokes, and sure enough, never one to pass up the occasion to jab at Takeshi, Hayato snorts.

He looks at Takeshi, finally acting natural, knowingly or unknowingly easing up under his touch, though he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, stiff at his sides. “What else is new?”

“Kyoya started it, actually,” Takeshi defends good-naturedly.

“I’m going to kill you, Yamamoto Takeshi.”

“I’d let you.”

Hibari promptly elbows him in the stomach, and Tsuna looks away, leaving them to it.

“You look better, I’m glad,” he says, cupping Hayato’s cheeks, and he ignores how much redder Hayato’s face turns. “I thought you might have gone too hard on the drinks with Takeshi,” he teases. It can’t hurt to explain his suspicious reaction away again.

Hayato huffs. “As if.”

“Good, because here’s the person I wanted you all to meet.” He links their arms together, turning them both to face Matsuda. “Takeshi—” he starts, but Takeshi’s already stepping up at his other side, Hibari having apparently successfully gotten rid of him, at least for now.

Tsuna glances behind him to make sure he’s still there, which he is by some miracle, then looks at Matsuda. He expects at least annoyance from him from having been ignored all this time if nothing else, but he looks strangely content, smiling as he looks at them.

Or not so strangely when he looks so obviously sure Tsuna’s lying to him through his teeth, which he is, but as long as he doesn’t call him out on it, he isn’t about to come out clean by himself.

“Hayato, Takeshi,” he starts, “this is Matsuda Arata. Matsuda-san, meet Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi,”—please, please, please, Hayato, play it cool and natural—“also my boyfriends.”

Tsuna sees from the corner of his eye the way everything instantly clicks and makes sense to Hayato at his words, how he gets exactly the situation Tsuna’s gotten himself into and how he’s gotten himself into that, ever the smart one, God bless him too.

Tsuna should have just done that from the beginning actually, introducing them to each other so Hayato would have been in on the loop right away, so really, this one is on him too, again.

Hayato even plays it cool, though angry, glowering at Matsuda, because where the hell does he come from not taking Tsuna’s no for an answer, and even pressuring him so much he had to put himself in this predicament?

Or at least it’s what Tsuna’s pretty sure he’s thinking. And he’s very tempted to let him go off on Matsuda, actually.

Wait, should he? It’d make Matsuda back off, and then he could call it a night without having to figure out two other fake partners and one fake girlfriend!

“You,” Hayato starts, taking a threatening step forwards, and Tsuna really thinks he should let him go on.

“Nice to meet you,” Matsuda says cheerfully, offering his hand like he can’t tell Hayato’s about to murder him. He’s even purposefully provoking with the way he talks and smiles and looks at him, and Tsuna’s pretty sure half of it is how Hibari’s staying out of it. Maybe Tsuna should involve him in the conversation again then, see how Matsuda likes it. “We actually work on the same floor, Gokudera-san. Maybe you already noticed me before too?”

Hayato scoffs, looking disdainfully at his hand then back up at him. He doesn’t take his hand.

Takeshi takes it instead. “Nice to meet you too!” he says, just as cheerful as Matsuda, and not meaning it one bit either. “I know all of Tsuna’s friends, so I was very surprised to hear about you, and couldn’t wait to meet you after that.”

Matsuda falters, almost flinches, hearing exactly what Takeshi didn’t say. Tsuna smiles.

It’s his mistake to have been thinking Hayato and Takeshi aren’t people he should fear too in their own right.

“I was very curious to meet you too,” Matsuda says, putting himself back together. “So, you two too, then? Well, I guess at least it’s a lot less surprising than Hibari-san, right?” He laughs, and then pretends to catch himself. “Ah, no offense, of course.”

“Oh, none taken. Kyoya couldn’t care less about what you think anyway,” Takeshi says, looking him right in the eye, not catching himself after, and Tsuna distinctly hears Hibari laughs in their back.

Matsuda raises his hands in front of him in fake surrender. “Ah, come on, don’t take it like that. I just meant—well, it’s just a little hard to believe the four of you are together like that. You just don’t look the part, that’s all,” he says, catching Tsuna’s eye as he does, smirking knowingly, like—

Like what? What is he saying? That Tsuna and him would look more the part?

And what about that victorious look on his face? Does he think that once he exposes his lie, Tsuna will just have to go out with him by whatever twisted logic of his?

God, this guy’s an actual creep, isn’t he?

Just Tsuna’s luck, but what else is new?

“And?” Hayato harshly dismisses him, daring him to say more.

He does, though he looks at him instead of Hayato. “Well, so far you’re also all part of the company, aren’t they, Tsuna? How convenient.”

“You sure open your mouth loud and often for the pathetic, weak herbivore you are,” Hibari says before any of them can say anything, and Matsuda tenses, looking past them, losing all humor and confidence on his face once again.

Tsuna could get used to that. It’s really so nice to have someone like Hibari Kyoya on your side.

“I know, right?” Takeshi says, still smiling, but his voice is poised and just on that side of not cheerful anymore. “He’s a bold one that friend of yours, Tsuna. How nice.” He wraps a possessive arm around his shoulders, not once looking away from Matsuda.

Matsuda shrugs the very explicit threats off, raising his hands in front of him again, but Tsuna’s starting to suspect it’s that he can’t tell he’s being threatened even if it couldn’t be more obvious to him. “Come on, guys, I was just saying. Though if that’s how you react to it…”

He barely tries to smirk again that Hayato grabs him by the collar of his dress shirt, Tsuna stumbling forwards along with him, Takeshi’s arm falling from his shoulders. “Listen here, you bastard—”

“Hayato, wait.” Tsuna puts himself between them, one hand on Hayato’s chest, the other on the arm holding onto Matsuda.

“No, Tsuna-s—Tsuna.” He glances at him, a flustered look on his face, but he’s all anger again when he looks back at Matsuda. “I’m going to teach this guy when to shut his fucking mouth.”

“I can do that by myself.” Hayato stills, his mouth open on the rant he didn’t get to start. He blinks, turning to look at him. “You’re only meeting each other and interacting because of me to begin with, so I should be the one to do this.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a beat before Hayato smirks, nodding. “Of course.” He lets go of Matsuda, stepping back and crossing his arms on his chest. “He’s all yours,” he says, his eyes on Matsuda, expectant anticipation on his face.

Matsuda looks at Hayato and him back and forth, thrown off enough he doesn’t think to adjust his clothes now free of Hayato’s grip. He looks at him uncertainly when he steps in front of Hayato to be face to face with him.

He puts it bluntly. “Matsuda-san, you have no business passing judgment on our relationship, nor do we care to hear it.” Matsuda widens his eyes, and whatever image he had of him Tsuna’s currently shattering, good riddance. “Quite frankly, you’ve been nothing but incredibly rude to say the least all night, even when none of us owed you this meeting. If that’s how you’re going to thank us for agreeing to it anyway, then let’s just enjoy the party each on our own side. These are dear people to me, so please, do watch the way you talk to them and talk about our relationship.”

Tsuna isn’t actually asking, which seems to have come across to Matsuda as he flinches. He smiles politely, and he’s been nothing but polite through it all too, but Matsuda winces, looking at him warily.

Good. Tsuna isn’t trying to play nice.

“Little animal.”

A shiver runs down Tsuna’s spine, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know Hibari could sound like that.

He turns around, and Hibari’s already stepping into his space, way too close, and his heart’s beating against his rib cage and in his ears fast.

He didn’t know Hibari could have that look in his eyes either. Let alone would have ever imagined he could look at him like that.

It seems there’s a lot he’s learning about Hibari tonight.

That can’t be good for his heart.

“Yes, Kyoya?”

Tsuna doesn’t want to be presumptuous, he swears, but he also swears Hibari looks nothing short but fascinated. He’s actually grinning, looking at him like...

Fuck, if Hibari would just step back a little, he’s sure he’d find his words then.

“Who told you you were allowed to hide your fangs from me?”

What? “What?”

What?

Takeshi laughs, hugging him from behind, pushing him forwards, and he’s all but pressed against Hibari, his hands against his chest. “What are you saying, Kyoya? Tsuna has never been hiding. You failed to notice him, that’s all.”

Hibari’s scent’s overwhelming, even more than the first time, and Tsuna can’t make sense of anything else, absently noticing he’s holding on his jacket for dear life.

This is too close, way too close, way too fucking close, oh God—

“Guys,” he croaks out, his mouth dry as the desert, but maybe not because they ignore him.

“Mind your own business, Yamamoto Takeshi.”

“You’ll have to earn our approval first, just so you know. Isn’t that right, Hayato?”

Tsuna can’t move, stuck between Hibari and Takeshi, and he’s warm on the front and back, warm on the face, burning, really, his heart just about ready to burst out of his chest. “Guys—”

“Watch it, bastards!” Hayato pulls him free straight into his arms, wrapping two firm, but careful and protective arms around him, and he instinctively holds onto him just as firmly to not lose balance. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tsuna should be able to breathe now. He’s hugged Hayato and has been hugged by him before, not as often as Takeshi, but he’s definitely familiar and comfortable hugging Hayato. His heart should be slowing down now.

His heart still beats a mile a minute and his face’s still burning, Hayato’s cologne not helping, Tsuna being just the right height for his head to rest in the crook of his neck, and this is still way too close—

To Hayato.

God, this whole pretend thing is messing with his head.

Tsuna’s starting to doubt more and more he’ll last the night.

“Aw, no, Tsuna,” Takeshi starts, genuinely apologetic despite the lighthearted tone of his voice. “You—hey, no, wait up, Matsuda!”

Tsuna pulls away from Hayato, whipping his head around. Takeshi wraps his arm around Matsuda’s shoulders, turning him around so he faces them again, keeping him put. “Where are you going? Don’t worry about what Tsuna just said. Now that we laid some ground rules, you might as well meet the rest of us too, right?” What? No! “Right, Tsuna?”

No! What is Takeshi doing? Let him go so they can finally drop this whole pretend thing!

Takeshi doesn’t seem to hear his internal pleas, or ignore them more likely, actually pleading with him with his eyes.

Oh, he really wants to have his fun with this, doesn’t he? And probably get back at Matsuda for having put him in this situation to begin with, which makes him dread even more just whose people “the rest of us” might be.

But no, Tsuna will stand firm on this. He straightens his back to do just that, opens his mouth, but then Takeshi gives him the puppy look.

He crumbles right away.

Fuck!

He smiles. “Yeah, sure. As long as you remain respectful about it, Matsuda-san,” he adds, but it’s a pitiful attempt to put up a fight.

Takeshi beams. “Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t Tsuna the nicest person you’ve ever met?” he asks, squeezing Matsuda tighter against him, choking him, though the paleness of his skin might be from the prospect of being forced to stay around them and meet more of them. “Ah, Kyoya, you don’t have to come though. How long have you been here already? You’ve already met Matsuda, so don’t push yourself too much, okay?”

Tsuna blinks. Turns to look at Hibari. Turns back to look at Takeshi, who’s already walking away, dragging Matsuda with him.

But then he glances over his shoulder, and doesn’t even bother to hide his victorious smirk at Hibari following after them.

Tsuna blinks again. Huh. What just happened?

He sighs, leaning against Hayato. “What just happened?”

Hayato clicks his tongue. “The baseball idiot happened, what else? Should I knock some sense into him?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, it’s fine, but thank you. He said he got this, I trust him.”

“You’re too nice too him, Tsuna-san.”

“But he’s always nice to me too.” He pulls away again, smiling up at him. “You’re all always nice to me. Thank you for that, but you really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Hayato huffs, crossing his arms on his chest. “Please, Tsuna-san, don’t think so little of me. I can survive a little bit of acting.”

Tsuna grins. “Okay. Sorry. Thank you.”

“I still don’t like that that bastard forced your hands like that though,” he says, frowning. “Should I force my fists on his face, see how he likes it?”

Tsuna bursts out laughing, unbidden, and quickly slaps both his hands against his mouth to muffle it. “Let’s make it plan B, alright?”

Hayato huffs again, but he has the softest expression on his face, smiling. “Fine.” He gestures with his head to the side. “We should go too before we lose them.”

“Right.” Tsuna links their arms together, and they fall in steps behind Takeshi and Hibari, a couple of feet away. Takeshi’s leading them deeper inside the room, walking along the dance-floor and skirting around the people spilling out of it. “So,” he starts, casual and innocent, and Hayato suspiciously glances at him. “What about keeping calling me Tsuna?”

Hayato instantly turns bright red. “No, I—”

“Couldn’t? But you already did it, remember? And it wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”

“No, that’s—”

“Yes?”

“Tsuna-san—” Tsuna raises his eyebrows. “Tsuna… -san…” Hayato looks away, covering his face with his hand as best as he can, red to the tip of his ears.

Tsuna giggles, but swallows it down as fast as he can. He bumps their shoulders together. “Just teasing, but I’ll stop now, I promise.”

“...Sorry,” Hayato mumbles in his hand.

“What for? I like best the name you’re the most comfortable calling me with, Hayato.”

Hayato carefully peaks at him through his fingers, then lowers his hand from his face, but strictly keeps looking ahead. “That was uncalled for.”

Tsuna giggles again, pressing against his side, then rests his head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t resist. Oh,” he says, hurriedly pulling away. “Sorry, is this okay?” Hayato frowns. “Should I let go?”

“Oh.” Hayato glances down at their linked arms, then looks at him again. “No, it’s fine.”

“I’m not doing this for the act or anything though. Is it still okay?”

Hayato misses a beat, looking at him like he just said the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course not, I know.” His eyes soften, a teasing smile pulling at his lips, and he slightly bumps their shoulders together. “I know you, Tsuna-san.”

Tsuna feels his face heat up in a blink, probably blushing just as bright as Hayato was. He rests his head against his shoulder again, hides his face against it actually, and gently nuzzles it a bit. “Thank you,” he breathes out, and he’s not sure if Hayato heard him, but he’ll guess anyway.

Tsuna keeps his face hidden, trusting Hayato not to let him bump against anyone, and it takes everything in him to not start laughing like an idiot.

Hayato would know him, wouldn’t he? They all do. They’re his close, trustworthy, reliable friends after all.

Warmth spreads throughout his whole body, and he eagerly soaks in it. He didn’t have friends at all growing up, let alone close ones, and how lucky he is to have found them in particular?

Tsuna wouldn’t change them for anything in the world.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, that fucking baseball idiot,” Hayato says, suddenly stopping walking, and Tsuna preemptively sighs.

But no, he still wouldn’t change them for anything in the world, chaos and all.

He reluctantly, slowly raises his head. They walked all the way across the room, standing in front of the secluded tables for people to settle at, chat or rest in between enjoying the party. He flicks his eyes around in case Reborn is anywhere near, relieved to not see him even if he’s sure he hasn’t lost sight of him all night, before focusing on the problem at hands.

Hibari stands the closest to them, back to them, but the line of his shoulders and his tensed muscles are enough for him to know he’s that close to snap.

Matsuda stands to the side between him and Takeshi, warily looking at them back and forth, looking like he wants to run but not daring to.

Takeshi stands next to Mukuro, sitting at the table he’s apparently chosen for them, idly playing with his hair.

Mukuro.

Tsuna immediately ignores that information, instead focusing on Chrome next to him. He likes Chrome a lot! They’re friends, and if he had to deal with this alone he’d actually have gone to her for help too, even if he’d have died of embarrassment doing it.

Chrome is also actually friendly with Hibari too, not that that’s relevant in any way whatsoever right now, of course.

He beams at her when they catch each other’s eye, Chrome smiling back, and also waving back when Tsuna waves at her.

Unfortunately, Hibari mercilessly shatters his blissful bubble of denial. “You don’t have to put that much efforts into your death wish, Yamamoto Takeshi,” he says, his voice chilling. “I’m happy to help you with it right now.”

Takeshi frowns, looking sad and worried, looking at Hibari and Mukuro back and forth. “Are you two still fighting? I thought you agreed to make an effort for tonight at least, so Tsuna could introduce us his new friend?”

All eyes turn on him, namely Mukuro’s, intent on him, even if he keeps munching on his cake like nothing’s wrong. Tsuna can only give them all a stiff, polite smile, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

What the hell is Takeshi doing? And why does he have to keep asking himself that?

Why does Takeshi keep provoking Hibari like that?

Really, Mukuro of all people? And it’s not like Takeshi doesn’t know a lot of people! This is one hundred percent on purpose, for God knows whatever reason.

“Did we, now?” Mukuro says, looking at Hibari.

“No, it’s fine,” Takeshi says understandingly before Hibari can say anything, straightening himself as he puts his hand on Mukuro’s shoulder. “Kyoya, you really don’t have to push yourself by staying, you know we won’t hold it against you. Just let us handle the rest from here on, okay?”

Tsuna doesn’t have to see Hibari’s face to feel the weight of the glowering, murderous look he must be giving Takeshi now, and his stomach drops. This is it, this is where Hibari will snap and murder them all, and then murder everyone else in the room just because.

This is where he’ll murder Takeshi first at the very least for sure, and then Mukuro, making it slow and painful.

Hibari moves, and Tsuna tenses, holding onto Hayato’s arm for dear life.

Hibari takes the seat the furthest away from Mukuro on the opposite side of the table without a word, and Tsuna’s jaw drops.

What?

He looks at Hibari and Mukuro back and forth, who’s hiding his surprise a hell of a lot better than Tsuna who’s nothing short but dumbfounded, looks at Hibari and Takeshi back and forth, and here’s that victorious smirk on Takeshi’s lips again.

What?

Tsuna leans up closer to Hayato, not taking his eyes off the unbelievable sight in front of him, Hayato doing the same, leaning down. He has to try twice before finding his words. “Why is Takeshi so good at handling Hibari-san the way he wants to?”

“The fuck if I know,” is Hayato’s insight on the matter.

They lean away from each other, Tsuna nodding absentmindedly. Fair enough. The fuck if he knows either, or if anyone would, really.

He looks at Hibari and Takeshi back and forth again, at Takeshi’s happy face who sat right across Hibari, still dragging Matsuda along with him, sitting next to him.

He looks at Takeshi’s face lights up even more when he looks at Hibari, even if Hibari still looks murderous, and towards him specifically.

Oh.

Is it…?

Tsuna leans up again, and so does Hayato, leaning down. “Is Takeshi…?”

“It looks like it,” Hayato confirms his suspicions, and they lean away from each other again.

Huh. Actually, it’s kind of obvious now that he thinks about it, thinking back to all their previous interactions. Then again, he supposes hindsight has a way to always do that.

He glances at Hayato, about to say something else on the matter, but the annoyed expression on his face makes him pause. He follows his gaze to Hibari, though he sometimes glances at Takeshi too, frowning even more when he does.

Oh.

Is Hayato…?

This one he definitely already had his suspicions on, and he purses his lips, holding back his happy grin. He could say something, especially when Hayato looks like he doesn’t quite know what’s annoying him, but sometimes he just has to come to terms with things on his own pace.

“Tsuna, Hayato, what are you waiting for?” Takeshi calls out. “Come sit with us!”

Tsuna takes the lead, pulling Hayato along, making for Hibari’s side of the table. Hayato probably doesn’t want to sit next to Takeshi or Hibari right now, but Hibari should be the safest option.

“Tsunayoshi, why don’t you come sit next to me?” Mukuro asks. Tsuna pauses, turning to him. “If my dear Chrome doesn’t mind, of course?” Tsuna throws her a pleading look, but she moves to the free chair next to her with an apologetic smile, freeing her seat.

Mukuro looks at him expectantly, and though he’s sure Matsuda couldn’t care less about his so-called polyamorous relationship right now, he still lets go of Hayato.

“Of course,” he says, smiling. “If it’ll make you happy.”

He takes his seat between Mukuro and Chrome, Hayato sitting across Mukuro, which just so happens to be the furthest seat away from both Hibari and Takeshi.

An awkward silence settles over them.

Takeshi breaks it. “Mukuro, Chrome-chan, this is Matsuda Arata, Tsuna’s friend who wanted to meet us. Matsuda, meet Rokudo Mukuro and Chrome Dokuro, also loved, important partners of ours.”

Tsuna feels Mukuro’s and Chrome’s eyes on him, and suddenly everything but them looks very interesting to him.

A heavier, awkward silence settles over them again.

Matsuda breaks it. “Nice to meet you,” he says, not bothering to put up an act about actually being happy to meet them whatsoever. He stands. “But unfortunately—”

Takeshi pulls him back down on his seat with what he’s sure must be a bruising grip on his arm. “No way, already?” he asks, cheerful, like he’s not holding him hostage at the mercy of his whims. Not that Tsuna feels sorry for him one bit. Serves him right. “Stay a little more. There’s only one other person you still have to meet, and he’s just running a little late.”

“Is he?” Tsuna can’t help but blurt out, a little edge in his voice.

Who is?

Takeshi knows a lot of people, and even if only a couple of minutes ago he’d have been sure he wouldn’t choose someone Tsuna isn’t decently familiar with, here he still is, sitting next to Mukuro.

And, okay, to be fair with him, he is familiar with Mukuro. But they aren’t exactly best friends, and most importantly, Hibari and Mukuro sure as hell aren’t best friends, more like sworn enemies.

“Yep,” Takeshi says easily, cheerfully, leaning forwards to better catch his eye, like he doesn’t know Tsuna won’t trust a word out of him for the next month or so at the very least. “He said he’ll be here soon.”

Did you even explain to him the situation properly? At all? He asks through his eyes.

When would he have done that though?

No, that’s a silly question. This is Takeshi he’s talking about. He probably texted him right there next to Matsuda, and maybe even straight-up called him.

Don’t worry, Takeshi says through his smile, and Tsuna worries even more.

“Kyoya, amore mio,” Mukuro says lovingly, and Tsuna’s soul leaves his body all at once right then and there, he swears it does. He holds his breath. “You’re going to scare our new friend away like that. It hurts me too when you’re angry with me like that, don’t you know, cuore mio? Anima mia, vita mia?”

“Please, stop,” Tsuna breathes out over Hayato snickering, mounting horror and terror churning in his guts, not averting his eyes from Hibari. He can’t afford to miss the moment when he’ll have to take cover.

“Won’t you even answer me, tesoro?” Mukuro continues, a sad tone to his voice. “Tesorino? Orsetto, zucherro? Cucciolo?”

Oh God.

Hibari swiftly stands, his chair clattering on the floor, while Hayato and Takeshi burst out laughing, and he hates them both for it in that moment.

“Kyoya, wait!” Tsuna shouts, hurriedly standing up too.

Wait, no, what is he doing? This is all Takeshi’s fault, he’s the one who should be standing to try to avoid collateral damage at the very least!

Hibari doesn’t wait, stalking along the table to Mukuro, and with the way his eyes are intent on him, promising death, he might not be able to hear him at all.

“Kyoya, please?” Oh God, fuck, fuck, fuck, would he just stop walking for a second— “Kyoya, baby?”

Both Hayato and Takeshi choke—serves them right—while Chrome gasps, and Mukuro’s laugh is of course unmistakable and unapologetic.

Most importantly, and the only thing Tsuna cares about right now, Hibari stops, just about to walk past Hayato.

But then he turns his murderous gaze on him, and now what?

Fuck, why does he even keep running his mouth so easily with him anyway? Baby, really?

Wait.

Wait wait wait—oh shit, shit, shit, fuck—

Is he…?

Nope, not thinking about it, not right now, not ever.

“Will you bring us some drinks now you’re already standing?” he hears himself says gently, somehow holding it together. “To me especially, I actually didn’t get to get one while we were there. And maybe some cake? Mukuro’s making jealous with his.”

Hibari slowly crosses his arms on his chest, and then just watches him, not saying anything, while his murderous look doesn’t go anywhere either, unfortunately. Eventually he glances at Mukuro, and Tsuna immediately glances down at him too.

Mukuro catches his eye, and whatever face Tsuna’s making, it seems to make him think better than adding oil to an already blazing fire. Good.

Tsuna looks back at Hibari, only to find him already looking at him. To his relief he looks the tiniest bit less murderous, a ghost of a smile even at the corner of his lips.

He walks away without saying a word, though not before throwing Mukuro another scathing look.

Tsuna’s legs almost give out on him. Apparently shutting up Mukuro earned him points. Well, thank fucking God for that.

Hibari probably doesn’t plan to come back at all, let alone with drinks and cake, but that’s fine. It’d be better he doesn’t come back, really. Tsuna really can’t deal with both Hibari and Mukuro at the same time, and close enough to each other to be able to jump at each other’s throat at a moment notice.

“You should just have told me you wanted some cake too, Tsunayoshi.” Mukuro wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him back down on his seat, but then keeps his arm there. He scoots closer to him, too close even if it can’t be comfortable for him, and slides his cake closer to him. Tsuna makes for sliding it the rest of the way in front of him, smiling gratefully despite the everything of the situation, but then Mukuro scoops up another bite of it again with his spoon. He holds it in front of his mouth. “Here you go. Say ‘ah’?”

Someone chokes again, probably Hayato. Tsuna would too if he wasn’t so dumbstruck.

Mukuro can’t be serious about this.

But he is, he sees it clearly in his eyes, and in the innocent smile on his lips like there’s ever been anything innocent about him.

He opens his mouth to tell him they aren’t about to do that, but Mukuro takes the opportunity to shove the spoon in his mouth before he can get any word out.

His face instantly heats up, but unfortunately the floor doesn’t open to swallow him whole and spare him from his mortifying embarrassment. He chews and swallows the cake with nothing else to do, not tasting any of it.

“Good?” Mukuro asks, before putting the spoon in his mouth, eating the rest of the cake on it. He hums contentedly. “Delicious, right?” Tsuna wants to die. That’s it, just that. Someone just kills him right now, he’s begging. “Oh my, what do we have here?” Mukuro wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, then licks it clean, all the while looking him dead in the eye.

Tsuna leans his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Please, stop.”

Mukuro laughs.

“You—” Hayato starts.

“Mukuro,” Chrome says over him, sounding disapproving. “Please, stop embarrassing him like that.”

“What are you talking about, Chrome? Dear Tsunayoshi here wanted cake, and I simply gave him some.”

“You know. Please, just give him back his space.”

“Ah, come now. Like you weren’t enjoying the cute sight he made.”

Tsuna wants to disappear from the face of the earth forever.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Chrome says, sounding just a little more worked-up than before. “You’re making him uncomfortable. Sit in your chair properly.”

“Says who? And were your cheeks always that interesting pink color, Chrome dear?”

Tsuna jumps at a sharp, loud noise, shooting upright to find Chrome standing, one hand against the table. She does look like she’s blushing, and not just because of the natural tint of her cheeks, but Tsuna isn’t about to say any of that out loud, not with that look in her eye and that smile on her lips.

“This is my song,” she says, almost unblinking, and how Mukuro finds the gall to laugh, he doesn’t know. “And you know this is natural.”

“Me too,” Tsuna blurts out, hurriedly standing once more. “Mine too, I mean. I—I mean, I like this song too, and, um…” he trails off for an awkward beat before offering his hand to Chrome. “Will you give me this dance?”

Chrome blinks, surprised, but easily puts her hand in his, her smile turning into a genuine one. “Anything that hasn’t to do with Mukuro right now.”

Tsuna gives her a wide grin. Her and him both.

“You’re doing unspeakable things to my feelings right now, Chrome dear,” Mukuro says, not even pretending to sound sad, and Takeshi laughs while Hayato snorts.

Chrome and him walk to the dance-floor hand in hand without looking back.

“Hey, about…” he starts uncertainly.

“Let’s not mention it.”

“Agreed,” he says right away, his shoulders sagging, and they share a smile.

Tsuna, of course, only remembers he can’t dance once they stop in front of each other among the other dancers. He winces. “I’ll very likely walk all over your feet, I’m so sorry in advance.” They glance down at her feet at the same time, and though she wears a pair of pretty, black sandals, they’ll unfortunately do little to protect her feet from accidents. He winces again. “Oh God.”

She laughs. “You’ll be fine. This is a slow song, and we can just go even slower.” She steps forwards in his space, putting her hand on his shoulder, and following her cue, he puts his hand on her waist, both of them raising their already linked hands at their side. “Ready?”

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah.” A beat passes. “Oh, right!” he blurts out, remembering he’s the one supposed to be leading, and they laugh. “Sorry. Here we go.”

They start moving at the rhythm of the song along the other dancers, though slower than them, gently moving back and forth and around their little corner of the dance-floor. They probably move even slower than she planned, but she doesn’t rush him, letting him find his footing.

“So,” she says pointedly, and he pouts.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about it?”

She smiles. “I’m just a little worried. For you to end up in a situation like this… That Matsuda guy didn’t cross the line too far, did he?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m fine. I wouldn’t have let him anyway. I know I may look like that, but—”

“I know,” she cuts him off gently. “But that’s a relief to hear.”

Tsuna can’t help but preen, just a little. Right. Close friends who know him and all that. How lucky he is, truly.

“Sorry to have involved you in this, by the way. Mukuro and you both.”

“Did you? It looks to me like something Takeshi-kun would do.”

He laughs. “Oh yeah, for sure, that’s totally on him. But also I’m the one who asked for his help, so.”

“I’m happy to help,” she reassures him. “Mukuro even more. We’d actually already noticed you when you were just with Kyoya,” she says, mirth in her eyes.

They pull away from each other, holding onto each other’s hands, before Tsuna pulls her close to him again, spinning her on herself once after he did so. He makes a face at her. “Yeah, yeah, everyone did, I get it.”

She’s merciful enough to hold back her laughter. “Mukuro was actually thrilled when we noticed you coming to us.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Glad some of us are having fun with this tonight, I guess.” Chrome suddenly spins him on himself, standing on her tip-toes, and he splutters. “Chrome-chan!”

She laughs this time. “Because you were making a face like that, Tsuna-kun. Come on, cheer up, at least while we’re dancing together. You’re the one who asked me for this dance, you know.”

“Of—of course. But you didn’t have to…” And of course, because he just had to say that, she spins him on himself again.

He keeps his mouth firmly shut this time, though he thinks he might just pass out with all the blood rushing to his face, but eventually lets her laughter spur his own.

He forgets all about Matsuda and his fake partners after that like she said, enjoying the dance and her company. They might be killing each other back at the table where they left them for all he knows, whether Hibari came back or not, but especially if he did, but he isn’t going to check.

He’s having fun for the first time since showing up at this godforsaken party, and he couldn’t care less about it at the moment.

They finish the dance with one last spin—Chrome’s, not his—, then step back from each other, smiling.

“How’s your feet?” he asks.

“Safe and sound. Not so bad a dancer, are you, Tsuna-kun?”

This time Tsuna lets himself fully glow under the praise, grinning.

“Sawada!” someone calls out very loudly just as they’re about to walk back to their table.

They turn to Ryohei and Kyoko making their way to them, cutting right through the dance-floor without a care.

Kyoko runs the couple of feet left, her arms open in invitation. “Chrome-chan!” She jumps in her arms, pulling her in a hug. “Hi, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you too, Kyoko-chan,” Chrome says, hugging her back. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just some car troubles.” They pull away, and she turns to him, reaching out with her hand. “Tsuna-kun, hi.”

“Hi,” he says, taking her hand, and she immediately squeezes his.

“You okay?” she asks, looking around like she’s looking for someone, a worried frown between her brows.

He frowns in turn. “Yes?”

“Sawada, extremely good evening!”

Tsuna has barely the time to turn to him that Ryohei swallows him into a hug. He laughs, hugging back. “Good evening to you too, Ryohei. I heard you had car troubles. Glad you could make it.”

“Of course! A man extremely always has his friends’ back.”

Okay?

Tsuna loosens his hold, ready to let go, but Ryohei unexpectedly keeps holding on. He actually holds him tighter, closer, his hand sliding into his hair, and then keeps holding him into what is decidedly more than just a friendly hug.

Tsuna swallows thickly, wrapping his arms around Ryohei’s back again. Right. Guess Ryohei is the last person Takeshi was talking about.

Tsuna actually meets his eyes when they finally pull away from each other, but only because it’s marginally less worse than looking at Kyoko’s and Chrome’s amused look. Which he knows, because he glanced at them for a second before immediately looking away.

Ryohei puts his hands on his shoulders, beaming at him, almost blinding, but there’s a serious tone to his voice. “Sawada, I think at times like this you should be decisive and to the point to make them understand. What do you say?”

“Agreed?” he says, and it makes Kyoko gasps, for some reason.

Ryohei laughs, then shakes him approvingly. “I knew you extremely would!” He cups his cheeks, his hands soft and warm against his skin, and leans in.

Tsuna, stupidly, thinks he’s going to whisper something to him, or something.

He kisses him.

On the lips.

Everything goes quiet, everything disappears, and there’s only the feel of Ryohei’s lips against his left, rough against his, yet soft and gentle in the way he doesn’t rush him, doesn’t pressure him for any more than the chaste kiss he’s giving him. They’re undoubtedly there against his lips all the same, a pleasant coolness to them when he’d have thought they’d be just as warm as the rest of him, but it’s made up by the warmth of his hands, like the sun is holding him.

Tsuna almost, almost leans in for more when Ryohei pulls away. He pulls his hands away too, and he almost stumbles like they were the only things holding him up. He opens his eyes, not remembering when he closed them, but the world’s still quiet, only white noise at the back of his mind, and has still to reappear in a way as he doesn’t register a single thing of it.

He raises his hand to his mouth, and idly brushes his fingertips across his lips. They’re tingling. It’s a nice feeling.

A flash at the corner of his eyes pulls him out of his daze.

He looks in its direction, only to find Reborn holding a camera in front of him, grinning at him with all his teeth out.

Tsuna hides his face in his hands, just barely holding onto a scream.

This is going to be a long night.

- they don't fake a big, dramatic, public breakup after this, for some reason that escapes tsuna. not that he does anything to make it happen.

- tsuna kisses a lot of his other friends after that in a relatively short time. not that he's complaining.

- at some point they go from a fake to a real relationship, and tsuna can't say how or when it happened for the life of him. but still not complaining.

Okay, this is pure crack, but I'm lowkey in love with the dynamics here. Also sassy!Tsuna is super fun to write lol, I should write him more often.

This one ended up being more of a fake dating AU, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!

[Plain text:

“- they don't fake a big, dramatic, public breakup after this, for some reason that escapes tsuna. not that (italic) he (end italic) does anything to make it happen.

- tsuna kisses a lot of his other friends after that in a relatively short time. not that he's complaining.

- at some point they go from a fake to a real relationship, and tsuna can't say how or when it happened for the life of him. but still not complaining.

Okay, this is pure crack, but I'm lowkey in love with the dynamics here. Also sassy!Tsuna is super fun to write lol, I should write him more often.

This one ended up being more of a fake dating AU, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!” in bold. /End PT]

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chierry · 2 years ago

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[IMAGE ID: a fully colored digital drawing featuring Hibari Kyoya and Yamamoto Takeshi from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Hibari is drawn from the bust up, and looks down with his head tilted down, blushing a little. He is wearing a double-breasted coat.

Yamamoto is draw from the thighs up as a demon with horns, pointy ears, a cropped top, black pants and singular-finger gloves. He holding Hibari close and rubs his cheek on Hibari's hair. He is smiling and his eyes are closed.

They are on a rooftop of a building. The background features buildings. It is snowing. The sky is pale blue and pink. END ID]

For the Rare Pair Week, Ritual Summoning featuring Hibari and Yamamoto, and the accompaining fic, Hollyhocks!

Title: Hollyhocks Author: istilllikekhr Rating: T Pairing: Hibari Kyouya/Yamamoto Takeshi Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply // Demon Summoning - Holidays - Pre-Relationship - Alternate Universe - Worldbuilding

#khrrarepairweek2022 #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #8018 #hibari kyoya #yamamoto takeshi #urt toog

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nefertvrivivi · 2 years ago

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KHR Rarepair Week Day 2 - Sky Day – Murder Roadtrip | Bodyguard AU

#khrrarepairweek2022 #mukuro x kyoko #sasagawa kyoko #rokudo mukuro #sakugraphics #otp: princess #khr!#6995 #khrgraphics

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apiratefellinlovewithastar · 2 years ago

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Katekyou Hitman Reborn! Rarepair Week 2022

Sky Day: Murder Roadtrip | Bodyguard AU

#khrrarepairweek2022 #khrrarepairweek #sawada tsunayoshi #skull #jaeger #r27 #vs #jaeber #khr #things i write #as soon as this dreary night ends

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k0saji · 2 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn! Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Miura Haru/Sasagawa Kyouko Characters: Sasagawa Kyouko, Miura Haru, Chrome Dokuro Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Demon Summoning, Humor Summary:

In which Haru flexes her costume designs skills to the chagrin of the theater club and her girlfriend. Well mostly the theater club, Kyouko was fine until Haru accidentally summoned a demon.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khrrarepairweek2022 #storm day #ritual summoning #theater au #sasagawa kyoko/miura haru

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seijuurouxryuu · 2 years ago

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Raise the curtain

Title: Raise the curtain Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Byakuran/Irie Shoichi Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Ritual Summoning | Theater AU Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning, Graphic Depictions of Violence, No Archive Warning

Day 1: Storm Day

The sound of tape rolling filled the theater, a background music as the red, heavy curtain pulled up with squeaks.

[Good evening and welcome.]

[This is a story, of a boy.]

[A boy,] And a boy about 10 years of age, in white shirt, black vest and checkered short, sat in a big maroon chair by a fireplace. He held onto a white-coloured bear and was reading a story book happily, legs kicking slightly. [Who loved to read.]

[His name is,] The boy looked up and grinned.

[Irie Shoichi.]

AO3

The sound of tape rolling filled the theater, a background music as the red, heavy curtain pulled up with squeaks. The stage was dark, empty yet eerie. The audience sat in curiosity, excited to see what the crew would show. There was little to no description on the pamphlet other than an invitation, time and date. It had sparked people’s interest, the drawing of a ring dripping with black ink.

[Good evening and welcome.] A cold, soft voice echoed. The spotlight turned on with a click and at the end of it stood a girl with an eyepatch, holding onto a mic with both hands and staring straight at the sea of human.

She did not smile; she did not bow. She merely stood there like a doll with an emotionless eye. The only indication that she was alive was how she took a deep breathe before speaking again.

[This is a story, of a boy.] The spotlight on her dimmed lightly to purple and another bright one turned on and this time, shining straight onto the middle of the stage.

[His name is,] The boy looked up and grinned.

[Irie Shoichi.]

Two adults, a man and woman, stepped in as he leaped out of the chair and ran to them.

[He was a young master, the precious, only son of his father and mother,]

Two young girls ran onto stage as well, laughing and hanging off of his arm.

[The only brother to his two sisters.]

The light dimmed and widened as the narrator continued.

[He was their precious child, beloved by all.]

“Brother, brother!” The youngest of them all, the girl, squealed, hugging the boy tightly as she asked, “Can you please read to me? Please?” The boy looked down at her with bright brown eyes and hugged back, smiling fondly. “Of course, my dear sister.”

[And he, too, loved them all dearly.]

The light dimmed back to darkness as the actors on stage acted as though they were proceeding to the story telling. Once fully off, all the sounds on stage disappeared. The narrator shuffled slightly, looking down as her voice turned solemn.

[One day…]

Shoichi was reading a book on mechanics, how it was invented and how it could be improved. His brown eyes sparkled as he consumed the words between the pages. The sky had darkened, moon hidden behind heavy clouds and the only source of light he had was from the fireplace. Rain drops hit the windows loudly and the wind blew against it strongly, but none of the noises scared the boy who was far too engrossed.

Until the butler knocked the door and called out. “Young master,” The old man gently said. “It is time for dinner. Master and Madam have been waiting for you.” Shoichi looked up and pouted. He was reluctant to leave the books behind, but he knew he had to put it down because his parents would not eat until he eats.

“I understand. Thank you, Milo.” He carefully bookmarked the page and place it down, leaving for the dining room with the butler.

In the dining room, there sat his parents and his sisters. His sisters had long start eating under their parent’s insistence while the adults sat drinking wine and chatting softly. Upon seeing him, they smiled, the corner of their eyes crinkling. “There you are, my boy.” His father said as he on his chair. “I was wondering if the walls of the library had sucked you in.” He teased.

His mother laughed.

“Our baby sure loves the library.” Shoichi older sister, who was sitting beside him, nudged him with her elbow. “Sho-chan, when are you going to do the puzzle with me?” She asked. The boy recalled promising her to start on a 5000-piece puzzle with her. It was a picture of a forest, blue and green and mystical.

He smiled. “How about after dinner?” The girl cheered.

The youngest then pouted. “I wanna play too!”

“Sure!”

A maid knocked on the door. “Master, madam, young master and young mistresses,” She greeted, voice shaky and undoubtedly wrong. Shoichi stared at her pale face, red eyes and shaky hands. “A guest has arrived.”

Shoichi’s father frowned. “A guest? Are we expecting anyone, my wife?”

Shoichi’s mother shook her head. “No, we are not.”

Footsteps, quiet yet there, echoed down the hallway. The temperature that was already very low from the rainy weather dropped further. Shoichi’s father frowned and stood up. The maid by the door moved away as the supposed guest walked in with a wide grin.

“You…”

Shoichi paled at the dripping blood from the man’s trousers. “Surprise, cousin.”

The rest went a blur and all Shoichi could remember was scrambling away, pulling his sisters down the hall deeper into the house, to where the safe and hidden spaces are. There were screams, gunshots and crashes echoing, the house was shaking, his sisters were sobbing and whimpering. All Shoichi could do was to hold onto his sisters tightly, a ring shoved into his mouth and clenched between his teeth, and run.

“Take your sisters somewhere safe, Shoichi!” His mother hissed as his father fought against the intruder, who seemingly possessing some weird power letting him survive after a shot right on his forehead. She shoved a ring into hands, and quickly ushered them out a small pathway as the main door out of the room was blocked. The maid was sobbing, but her body was controlled to catch them upon the glint of the ring.

“M-madam run!” She sobbed as she rushed towards them with nails that grew too long to be called human, but Shoichi’s mother blocked her way, welding a short sword. “Go!” She said.

Shoichi pulled her sisters and ran.

And ran.

And ran to the library he had always loved.

Shoving her sisters in, he quickly pushed the chair he always sat on, heavy and sturdy, to block the door. It wouldn’t work against that… Creature, but it would at least buy them some time.

He immediately pulled out the small dagger, a gift from his father, and stabbed it into a small hole on the wall beyond the fire in the fireplace. The wall rumbled. There was laughter reverberating.

Shoichi was sweating bullets, hand hurting from the fire but he held on. The wall turned and a small gap opened beside the fireplace. “Go! Quickly!” He shoved his sisters in first.

There was a bang at the door.

He quickly pulled the dagger back and ran into the gap.

The wall closed quietly as the creature—full of black gore and eyes and tentacles—barged into the room, chair shattered.

The creature roared.

It was a long way down, as Shoichi guided them. There was no light, only a tight narrow stairway. The air was thin, but enough. He could vaguely hear the wind and something fluttering. He couldn’t tell where it was from, however.

His youngest sister was sobbing as she held onto both his and their elder sister’s hands. “I want mommy and daddy.” She whimpered.

Shoichi squeezed her hand. He too, wanted to go back and find them, but he couldn’t. He knew that there was nothing he could do, that it was all too late. All he could do was hope that there was someone, something, that can help them at the end of this path.

This path that he had never walked before. His parents had said, it was their last line of safety. That he should never go in unless there was no other way.

He bit his lower lips.

Please.

The lights dimmed again, and the narrator who stood stiffly for so long, turned her head, moved back a step, and said, [The three children walked and walked, down and down. The eldest was numb and silent, the youngest long stopped crying and stumbled tiredly. The boy held on and continued down the path with only his hand against the cobbled wall as a guide.]

The stairs on the stage changed, and the three children stood at the end leading to a small room. There was light, finally, a couple of glowing orbs in bottles placed around the room. There was a table, a chair, and a bed with a barrel of water beside it.

The youngest girl couldn’t handle it anymore and sat down, pulling her sister down with her. “Sister, I’m tired…” She whispered, lips chapped and throat dry.

[The sisters held onto each other as the boy quickly touched the walls of the room, trying to find a path out. While the creature may not find them here, he would not want to entertain the slight chance of otherwise. Unfortunately, there was no other way out of the room other than the long stairway.]

Shoichi almost sobbed himself. He barely held back because if even he were to fall, what about his sisters? ‘Think, Shoichi, think.’

He stumbled to the table and scanned through whatever that was on it, trying to find clues. It only held a large book in the middle, untouched, serene. Strangely enough, there was no dust, clean as though it was placed not long ago. There was something about the book that was drawing him in, yet scaring him. It was ominous, it was mysterious. He was curious, yet he was afraid.

Shoichi hesitated, and he gave into his curiosity.

With a touch of his fingertips, the book flipped open with a thud, pages fluttering itself to one specific page. The sound jolted his sisters who both immediately quiet down and stared at his back from the stairway.

“S-shoichi?” His elder sister whispered, but Shoichi heard none of it as he read, hands clenching tightly into fists and nails digging into his palms.

[The book described, of a fallen creature who feeds only on people’s jealousy and fear. It was a creature, incorporeal and possesses those ordered by its creator. It was a creature of darkness.] The background music had long stopped, leaving the soft breathing of the actors and actresses on stage, the bated breath from the audience, and the solemn voice of the narrator.

[It was a creature that cannot be killed,]

The actor on stage flipped the page.

[Unless one sells their soul to a demon king with white wings and blue eyes.]

The page showed a winged creature, silhouette black yet eyes strangely blue and mouth strangely wide in a grin. It was no less scary that the creature that haunted them, but Shoichi was drawn to it. He had no idea why.

On the next page, there was a summoning circle. No description other than it being one to summon the demon king. It was drawn in red, intricate and complicated. It was vaguely glowing under Shoichi’s gaze, as though bewitching him to drop his blood onto it.

The price was his soul, Shoichi repeated in his head.

There was a roar, louder than ever, and an explosion above ground. The walls strangely stood strong despite the vibration.

Shoichi lifted his hand over the circle and cut his palm with the dagger.

Blood dripped onto the page and the circle glowed brighter and brighter, to the point that Shoichi could no longer see a thing.

Her sisters screamed, but Shoichi’s ears were ringing. He felt faint at the blast of pressure and magic and underworldly force.

The light faded away and Shoichi managed to open his eyes again. A winged creature, white haired, floated above the summoning circle with its eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. It looked human, so human if not for the white horns and wings. Shoichi was entranced.

It opened its eyes, so blue and bright, and stared straight into Shoichi’s brown ones.

Its lips pulled up into a wide grin.

“Pleasure to meet you, human.”

[The demon king,] The spotlight went off and the stage darkened [Was named Byakuran.]

Unworldly screech echoed from the stage with crashes and fluid-like splatters. The audience shuddered at the noise, not knowing why that despite not being able to see what was going on, they were afraid. Afraid of something in the dark, something that would take their life. None of the noticed the glint in the narrator’s voice.

[Byakuran forged a contract with Shoichi, who wanted nothing but revenge, and killed the creature for him. Byakuran swallowed it and Shoichi and his sisters were left with nothing else other than the carnage it left. No one else other than them had survived.

No one.]

The light turned back on and the boy stood over the house that was left in rumbles. Dawn has broken through the horizon, and the rain had stopped, leaving puddles of red and debris all over. Byakuran walked over to him, standing behind him with his wings fluttering lightly.

“Your sisters,” He began. “I’ve sent them away as you said, removed their memories of everything as you wished.” He leaned over the boy’s shoulder and looked at his facial expression.

‘Ah.’ Byakuran shuddered in excitement. ‘Such a lovely expression by a lovely soul.’

Shoichi looked back at him, eyes long dimmed to nothing but hatred and anger and emptiness.

“Thank you.” Byakuran raised an eyebrow, but mentioned nothing of it.

“Are you going to eat my soul now?” The boy asked, turning to face him.

Byakuran hummed, leaned back and surveyed the boy properly once again. He contemplated for a while, a finger tapping on his chin.

His lips stretched wide, exposing his sharp teeth.

“Nope.” He grabbed the boy’s chin and pull it up, leaning down. “You’re too interesting. It has been so long since I’ve had my fun. I’ll leave you alive, let you do whatever you want. I’ll even help you with all you wish to do, but you must make sure that you stay interesting. Once I find you boring,” He paused, “Well, that’s when I will eat you.”

He grabbed the bleeding hand that was clenching onto the family ring, a crest in amber, and slid it onto Shoichi’s middle finger. He bent and kissed the bloodied ring, tasting the sweet, sweet blood.

“I hope that you can stay interesting for a long time, dear young master.”

The light turned off for the last time, and the narrator turned back to the audience. [The young master and the demon rebuilt the Irie clan while haunting down the ones who created the creature that possessed his uncle. It was said that the perpetrator was dismembered and hung on the plaza, dripping in blood and laid there for weeks as a warning until it rotted. Ever since then, the young master no longer showed himself again anymore.

They said, that he was eaten, no longer interesting to the demon king. Others said that he left the mortal world and became the slave of the demon king. There were many variations of what happened to the young master, but one for sure, he was the last human who managed to summon the white winged demon king.]

The narrator bowed. [Thank you.] The last spotlight went off and the theater darkened.

Applause echoed through the theater, yet there were no cheers and only confusion.

Suddenly, there was a crunch and a scream, followed by another, and another.

Above the audience, in the private viewing area, sat two men who watched the bloody fiasco down below. “Chrome-san had done a great job there.”

Byakuran was holding onto Shoichi’s waist, nuzzling and nibbling against the pale naked skin, a hand fondling.

“She sure did. The pineapple bastard had taught her well.” Shoichi nodded and huffed. He pushed against the head and pinched the hand. “Stop stalling and go, the smell of blood is stinking.”

Byakuran pouted against his skin. He leaned over and gave the man a kiss. “If I go too early it’d be too weak. Let it gather it strength first. It’d be more fun that way.” He licked his lips, blue eyes shining brightly.

Shoichi scoffed and persisted. “Don’t forget that we still have to attend Decimo’s banquet. Go.”

Byakuran sighed. “Fine, fine.” He let go and stretched. “Will be right back, dearest young master. Stay put.” He leaped from the railing and white wings stretched open.

Shoichi played with the ring on his middle finger and a smile slowly stretched across his face. His eyes shone brown red.

“Soon, father, mother. Soon.”

Only 10 to go.

The curtain closed.

--------------------------

Context: Irie family is one of the richest family. The ancestors had too many affairs and left too many descendants, which lead to one of the heads declaring that other than the main bloodline, none of the branch families can inherit anything. This led to the dissatisfaction of many and the last straw that broke the camel’s back was the bankruptcy of Shoichi’s father’s cousin.

The branch families, all swallowed by greed and anger over the lost of their rights, experimented with creatures and lesser demons. They let it possess that cousin and, yeah all that. So basically because there’s too many and too scattered once Shoichi started the hunt, it took him a long time.

Shoichi became a lesser demon, converted by Byakuran, and slowly raised in rank and strength into a noble demon. The two basically got together after a fight. Anyways, Byakuran never responded to anyone else’s summon is because… Well it was a promise to Shoichi’s ancestor who managed to first summon him. She was too interesting and therefore Byakuran promised to help her descendants should anything happen. And because he is lazy, he decided there and then that he wouldn’t answer anyone’s else summon.

Vongola are one of the demon kings of old blood line. Chrome was converted by Mukuro and was a victim to one of the branch families’ experiments. This is why she and Mukuro is helping.

ANYWAYS YOU CAN TELL THAT IM TRYING TO PATCH THE PLOT HOLES OKAY SHHHHHH DON’T EXPOSE ME AFTER I EXPOSE MYSELF

Hope it was a fun read!!

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

#KHR #khrrarepairweek2022 #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Irie Shoichi #Byakuran #10051 #My Writings

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trilies · 2 years ago

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Haru at least had the benefit of a smooth road and a straight path when she clambered up onto the roof of the car. By the time Adelheid starts to follow her, Squalo is already swerving wildly past other cars and going at a speed Adelheid is fairly certain a car of this type shouldn't be able to go at. It's meant for ferrying children to soccer at a leisurely pace across the suburbs to a very plain and boring trimmed grass field. Squalo almost bodies a semi-truck off of the road; Adelheid is fortunately on the opposite side to this disaster. She doesn't worry too much about it. Her attention is more on joining Hibari and Haru on top of the car, glad that she decided to wear slightly sensible combat boots today instead of her usual ones. There's a grip to the soles that she appreciates in a situation like this, bracing herself along the length of the car. Hibari doesn't seem to be bracing himself at all, anchoring himself to the top of the car in ways that are a mystery to man, animal, aliens, and anything else that might possibly exist in the world. Adelheid is used to that. So somehow, it feels all the more jarring to find Haru up there, fingers latched onto the windows and her body pressed flat against the roof of the car. All of them barely have a moment to brace themselves before Squalo's voice rises above the squeal of tires and scream of police sirens. "Hold on to your diapers, you shitty brats, because we're losing these bastards!" And that's when he swerves right off the road and into the trees.

Day 2 - Sky - Murder and Roadtrips

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khrrarepairweek2022 #haru miura #kyoya hibari #adelheid suzuki #dino cavallone #bianchi #superbi squalo #squalo #hibari kyoya #suzuki adel #bianchi khr #miura haru

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ravensilversea · 2 years ago

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Title: Costumes

Author: @ravensilversea

Rating: G

Pairing: Miura Haru & Reborn

Prompt: Ritual Summoning/Theatre AU

Tags/Warnings: No Major Warnings Apply, College AU, Theater AU

Summary: Haru knew exactly what she wanted to do when her professor announced the semester-long project worth 50% of her final grade. However, she might have bitten off a bit more than she can chew this time.

Haru knew exactly what she wanted to do when her professor announced the semester-long project worth 50% of her final grade. Her pencil scrawled across the next page of her notebook, smearing lead on her hand in her excitement, even before the professor finished explaining the project: ‘Design and produce costumes for a theatrical production for a local elementary school. Extra credit available if your costumes are used in the production.’ Haru knows the intent is for them to find a production that’s already being planned and is looking for volunteer assistance, but she also knows her old elementary school would love to host a play she produces. Sato-sensei was the one who helped her design her first Namahage costume all those years ago after all.

A delicate, yet pointed, cough draws Haru’s attention away from her now three pages of notes and sketches. She looks up. The theater’s lecture hall is completely empty except for her and Reborn, who stands over her left shoulder. “If you’re quite finished,” he says, “there’s another class coming in five minutes.”

Haru sniffs. “You’re one to talk, Reborn-san. How many times has Haru found you working in an empty lecture hall?” Nevertheless, she closes her notebook, clicks her pencil’s lead back into its tube, and puts both in the messenger bag at her feet. She stands, swinging the bag onto her shoulder. “In fact, Haru distinctly remembers Reborn-san working until halfway through one of her classes.”

“As a graduate student pursuing multiple degrees…”

Haru tunes Reborn out as they walk out of the theater; the next class begins to filter in. Firstly, because he really just likes to hear himself talk so it’s not like there’s a need for her to engage in this conversation again. Secondly because it’s hard to forget Reborn’s pursuing a PhD in both mathematics and costume design when he’s constantly both at the campus theater and her father’s guest at Sunday dinner.

Reborn steps around and in front of Haru. “You’re not even listening to me,” he crosses his arms and sticks his bottom lip out.

Covering her smile with a hand, Haru says, “Maybe you should say something interesting then, desu.”

“But I’m always interesting!”

Ao3

This time, Haru breaks into giggles, and it takes a moment for her to regain her composure. Reborn simply sighs loudly as if the entire world as turned against him. They separate, each taking a side of sidewalk around a group of five clumped together and walking down the exact middle of the sidewalk.

Coming back together, Reborn asks, “What is your plan for the project?”

“Oh? Was Reborn-san lurking in the back of Haru’s class again?” Still, Haru bounces on the balls of her feet than takes a few quick strides to catch back up with the taller man. She explains her half-thought out idea for a play, the costumes, how she plans on reaching out to her old elementary school for a place to show it, and her plans to direct the play on top of all her schoolwork. She bumps into at least one person while walking backwards for better eye contact with Reborn and offers a distracted apology before jumping back into her explanation.

“Are you sure you can handle all of that?” Reborn asks, and for a moment, Haru thinks she sees concern in the faint wrinkles of his brow. But if it was there, it quickly slides into his usual smirk and hands-in-pockets-weight-on-his-heels posture. “Or is this your way of asking for the help of the World’s-"

“Most Self-Centered Grad Student, desu?” Haru asks, pointedly turning her wide smile towards Reborn as she blinks slowly, innocently if you will. Once Reborn makes his usual quiet noise of offense, she shakes her head. “No, thank you. Elementary theater productions are only an hour long at most, and have few or no costume changes.”

Reborn hums. “If you say so.”

Haru glares at him. “I have everything perfectly under control, thank you very much, desu.”

Haru, most definitely, does not have everything perfectly under control and, most definitely, cannot handle it.

Sato-sensei had leaped at the idea, just like she expected he would, but before she could fully finish explaining her vision, he said, “It would be so nice for the children to see a performance directed and created by one of our alumni here in the school.” He had shaken his head with an eye-wrinkling smile, like he hadn’t just increased the pressure Haru was feeling to make it more than just good. “You and your friends have my thanks. It’s so good to see young adults contributing back to the community.”

Haru had said something about it being no problem, all while internally panicking over the very sudden realization that she knew absolutely no one well enough to ask if they’d be willing to assist with her production.

Her head lands on her desk with a quiet thunk. Who was going to be willing to act in a play for elementary school students right before finals week on relatively short notice? They’re already halfway through the semester for goodness’ sake!

A knock at her bedroom door draws Haru’s attention, and she sits up straight before asking, “Yes?”

Her father pokes his head into the room. “It’s almost dinnertime, Haru-chan. Reborn-kun’s already downstairs, so why don’t you come down and join us?”

Haru sighs, glancing at the pile of notes, sketches, and crumbled paper balls on her table. Part of her wants to skip dinner and continue working, and definitely not feed Reborn’s ego by admitting she maybe, possibly needs help. Specifically his connections. The man is involved with seemingly every club and organization on campus, and Haru hasn’t figured out how he does it yet.

“Your work will keep, Haru-chan,” her father says with a quiet chuckle. “It’s long past time you took a break anyways, and, as you know, a tired brain-”

“Misses the obvious and makes mistakes,” Haru recites. A smile spreads across her face, and she looks back at her father. “I’ll be down in a moment, Otou-san. I just want to organize my papers really quick.”

Nodding, her father disappears from the doorway. Haru gathers the papers and taps them against the table to bring them into a nice, neat stack, which she then sets down just in front of where she’s sitting. After that, she stands, brushes her skirt off, and walks down the stairs, her hands trailing along the bottom edges of picture frames.

Reborn’s voice echoes up the stairs- he’s grinning, Haru can tell because of the almost wild brightness in his tone. A timer goes off, and dishes begin to clatter. She turns into the kitchen, and Reborn salutes her with his glass of wine. “Good evening, Miura-chan,” he says seriously, his twitching lips betraying his humor.

“If Reborn-san is going to disrespect Haru’s friendship like this, then perhaps Haru should take her dinner upstairs, desu.” Haru lifts her nose into the air and turns away from Reborn just so.

Her father sighs loudly. “Kami save me from you hooligans,” he says. He begins setting dishes full of steaming food out on the kitchen table. “Haru, could you set our places please?”

“Of course, Otou-san.” Haru’s house slippers slide slightly over the tile floor as she crosses the kitchen to reach the dishes in the cabinets.

“Let me help you with that, Miura-sensei,” Reborn says behind her. Between the three of them, they get the table set and food served in only a few minutes.

Reborn and Haru’s father talk about Reborn’s thesis project over the clicking sound of their chopsticks. Haru occasionally interjects with mostly related questions that serve to make the mathematicians look at the problem from a different angle, if only because they have to explain the most complex concepts to her. Eventually, the conversation turns to theater and how both Reborn’s and Haru’s classes are going.

“You seem awfully busy with your project recently, Haru-chan,” her father says. “How much more do you have to do?”

Haru swallows her latest bite of food, then takes to stirring her chopsticks around in the bowl. “I might have bitten off more than I can chew,” she admits.

Her father laughs, “Not my daughter!” and Haru cracks a smile. “What exactly do you have to do and what have you added on to it?”

“I have to design and produce costumes for a theatrical performance for a local elementary school, not necessarily performed by the elementary students,” Haru recites. “However, I reached out to Sato-sensei and suggested that I create a theater performance to be shown at Midori Elementary.”

“Not like you haven’t done anything similar before,” Reborn says. “What’s the problem this time?”

Haru wants to shrink down into her chair despite her father’s many lessons about good posture and table manners. “I don’t know anyone enough to ask if they’d be willing to perform in it,” she says to her food.

“Please look at us while speaking, Haru-chan,” her father says. When Haru lifts her head and makes eye contact, he continues, “I take it you didn’t think of that until you had already spoken to Sato-san.”

Haru nods.

Her father hums and looks from her to Reborn pointedly. “A Miura doesn’t go back on the promises, Haru-chan, so it sounds like you should come up with a solution to that problem sooner rather than later.”

Catching her father’s point, Haru turns her focus on Reborn, who leans back in his chair and takes another sip of wine. He isn’t subject to her father’s reminders about posture and manners like she is, and it does drive her a little up the wall. “Yes?” he drawls.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who would be willing to act in my play?”

“I might know a few who would be interested in adding to their resumes.”

“Would you mind putting me in touch with them?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Reborn sets his glass down and leans forward until his forearms rest on the table, clasping his hands together. “I’ll get them to agree, and I’ll help make sure they’re up to snuff.”

Haru narrows her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“For you? None.”

Deciding to leave it at that, Haru returns to her dinner. She has no desire to know how her future actors managed to become indebted to Reborn; it’s not something he tends to do over some simple tutoring. “Thank you, Reborn-san,” she says.

“You’re quite welcome, Miura-chan.” Reborn straightens, and the meal continues.

Haru pushes herself away from the sewing machine with a muffled scream as it stalls yet again. The last time the machine jammed, it was a bent needle. The three times before that was because of the machine unthreading itself, and the time before those was because she ran out of bobbin thread.

She lifts the foot up with perhaps more force than necessary, but it feels like it makes a satisfying thump when she does it. Pulling the fabric away, she scowls at the once-again unthreaded needle.

“Working hard or hardly working?” Reborn asks from behind her.

Flapping her hands at the machine, Haru simply says, “It keeps rejecting Haru’s thread.” She sets the costume she’s working on to the side and begins checking that she hasn’t preemptively and accidentally pulled a pin out.

Reborn hums as he leans over her shoulder. “Have you considered not having it do that?” Haru gives him the narrowed side-eye that sentence deserves. “You’re missing a pin there,” her points to the empty spot.

Haru sighs but replaces the pin. “How was rehearsal?” she asks. “And have you cornered Sawada-kun to send him my way? I need him to try on his costume, so I can make adjustments,” indicating the costume in question, hanging on the rack, with a jerk of her head. She would have said something to Sawada herself when she was at the previous rehearsal, but he had run out the door almost immediately after it was over.

She still hasn’t figured out if he’s flustered out of fear of Reborn or flustered because he thinks she’s pretty.

“He should present himself at six o’clock sharp tomorrow evening.” The low, dark purr in Reborn’s voice says ‘or else’. Haru makes a note to add a prayer for Sawada-kun’s well-being when she pays her respects at the shrine in the morning. She doesn’t envy any of the poor sods Reborn rustled up to act in her play; Reborn’s a nightmarish task master at the best of times.

Setting the half-finished costume aside, Haru begins rethreading her sewing machine. This time she starts from the top again, winding the blue thread through all the hooks and cranies, instead of just finding the end of the thread and rethreading the needle. “The rehearsal?” she asks again.

“They’re all idiots,” Reborn says, stepping back from her shoulder. His shoes click against the wooden floor of the theater’s makerspace, and Haru can just picture him pacing back and forth with his arms folded tightly over his chest, chin and fedora tilted down. “Sometimes I wonder if any of them actually know how to read. Gokudera managed to set his script on fire three times today alone, and I have no idea how he keeps doing it.”

“I told you to confiscate his cigarettes and lighters.”

“I did!” Reborn says. His footsteps stop, and he sighs heavily. “They’ll be ready. Can’t promise it’ll be anything to write home about, but they’ll at least know their lines and the choreography.”

Haru yawns, doesn’t she know it. Reborn says it often enough, and she’s seen the near disaster firsthand multiple times already. “It’s a show for kids, Reborn-san,” she says, as much of a reminder for herself as it is for him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” She stares down at the sewing machine and tries to convince herself to start sewing again. The costumes aren’t going to sew themselves, and they are actually the part she’s being graded on.

Reborn spins her chair around. His black eyes are narrowed as he leans down to Haru’s level. “How long have you been at this?”

“Only a few hours, Reborn-san. I came in after my three o’clock class got out at about four, and now it’s…” her voice trails off as she turns to look at the clock.

The clock cheerfully reports that it currently around 9:45 and tick-ing.

“A quarter to ten,” Haru finishes sheepishly.

Reborn’s eye appears to twitch, and he mutters something about “idiotic undergraduates” under his breath. Then, he crooks a finger at her. “Up. You’re done for the night.” He steps around her and unthreads the machine again, winding the thread and pulling out the matching bobbin before putting both away.

“I still have-”

“Nope!” Reborn grabs Haru’s arm and pulls her out of the chair. “No, you don’t. Not tonight, Miura-chan. The only things you still have to do is eat and sleep.”

Haru doesn’t try arguing further and simply lets Reborn drag her out of the theater and down the sidewalk to a nearby coffeeshop. She gets a sandwich and a cup of tea to go. He, of course, gets an espresso.

“You just wanted a late night espresso,” Haru accuses as the door closes behind them.

Reborn gives her a Look. “I’m offended. I really truly am,” he says. “I bought you dinner, and this is how you repay me.”

He also walks her to the train station and waits with her for the next train. Before she gets on, he makes her promise to text him when she gets home “or else”.

The train doors shut, and Haru takes a sip of tea. Seven stops to go until she gets home.

The cafeteria of Midori Elementary fills with noise as class after class files in to sit on the floor. The backstage is in absolute chaos, and Reborn has already had to swoop in and stop two fights and one potential fire already. Haru’s about one more prop being used for monkey-in-the-middle away from stabbing someone with her pen.

The play starts in fifteen minutes.

Reborn resettles himself against the wall, arms crossed, and fedora pulled down to shade his face. Haru’s about to join him when she sees Superbi grab something out of the corner of her eye.

“Superbi-san, I know you’re not about to throw that at someone,” she says in the sickliest sweet tone she can manage. Turning on her heel, she’s rewarded with the sight of the older man’s wide eyes and quick release of the prop. The prop bounces off the floor and rolls a few centimeters before stopping.

“There are impressionable young children on the other side of that curtain,” Haru continues, making sure she meets each of her actors’ eyes. “For the next hour, those children will be watching your every move. It would be a shame if Sato-sensei tells me they learned even one bad habit from any of you.”

For once, you could hear a pin drop backstage.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miura-san,” everyone choruses.

Haru brightens. “Hahi! Everyone get back to your preparations then! Curtains’ up in ten minutes!”

The resulting scramble for costumes, props, and makeup is still very chaotic, but it’s much less loud and antagonistic. Haru hopes the attitude continues through the rest of their time at Midori Elementary.

As she walks back to the wall Reborn’s leaning against, Reborn slow claps. “Marvelous job, Miura-chan,” he says. “I don’t believe they know what hit them.”

Haru giggles. “Haru thinks they too much focused on Reborn-san and underestimated Haru as a result.”

Reborn leans his head back against the wall with a smile towards the ceiling. “Reborn thinks Haru might be right,” he says.

The final preparations go relatively smoothly, and by the time Sato-sensei is on the stage introducing the play to the students, everyone is tucked away in the wings awaiting their cues, the set pieces are in place, and Haru has a hand on the curtain controls. “Please enjoy the performance today,” Sato-sensei finishes.

Haru holds up three fingers. Counts them down. Hits the button to open the curtains.

And the play begins.

#khrrarepairweek2022 #khr #miura haru #reborn #raven's pen

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ellesra · 2 years ago

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Tsuna/Lancia, Bodyguard AU~

(Story: Tsuna is the heir, and Lancia is his bodyguard. As Tsuna sees it, there is no way to not fall in love with Lancia. From the first time Tsuna saw him, he felt smitten. Now the question is only: Does Lancia like him back?)

#khrrarepairweek2022 #sawada tsunayoshi #Lancia #BodyGuard AU #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #fanart #anime #KHR rarepair week

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seitosokusha · 2 years ago

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@khrrarepairweek

Cloud Day: Sleep Intimacy

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs, Katekyou Hitman Reborn! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs)/Sawada Tsunayoshi Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Sawada Tsunayoshi Additional Tags: Sleeping Together, Fluff, Alternate Universe Summary:

Dazai was so relaxed when he was sleeping.

Tsuna marveled at it really. The gentle rise and fall of Dazai’s chest, the soft breaths and the steady beats of his heart. One didn’t really realize how tense Dazai was when he was awake. He acted like he wasn’t when was awake, always acting carefree and laid back, but in sleep, his masks fell away.

He supposed no one realized it because Dazai didn’t really let anyone see him sleep.

In that regard, Tsuna was very lucky.

#khr #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #dazai #sawada tsunayoshi #khrrarepairweek2022 #katekyo hitman reborn #seitowrites

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meli-o-mali · 2 years ago

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KHR Rarepair Week 2022: Day 1: Storm Day || Ritual Summoning

Pairing: Chrome Dokuro/ Sawada Tsunayoshi

Dancing With Your Ghost

"I stay up all night

Tell myself I'm alright

Baby, you're just harder to see than most.

I put the record on

Wait 'til I hear our song

Every night I'm dancing with your ghost

Every night I'm dancing with your ghost.

Never got the chance

To say a last goodbye

I gotta move on

But it hurts to try."

#khrrarepairweek #khrrarepairweek2022 #storm day #ritual summoning #chrome dokuro/sawada tsunayoshi #chrome #tsuna #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #my art

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hopeswriting · 2 years ago

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EVENT: KHR Rare Pair Week 2022

PROMPT: Day 2 - Bodyguard AU

PAIRING: Skull/Arcobaleno

SUMMARY:

As he makes it more and more famous in the stunt industry, people inexplicably start targeting Skull’s life. Naturally, his manager hires bodyguards to keep him safe.

Seven of them, just to be safe rather than sorry.

RATING: G

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

TAG WARNING: Mild Swearing

WORD COUNT: 3325

LINKS: Ao3 & Ff.net

[Plain text:

EVENT: KHR Rare Pair Week 2022

PROMPT: Day 2 - Bodyguards AU

PAIRING: Skull/Arcobaleno

SUMMARY:

As he makes it more and more famous in the stunt industry, people inexplicably start targeting Skull’s life. Naturally, his manager hires bodyguards to keep him safe.

Seven of them, just to be safe rather than sorry.

RATING: G

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

TAG WARNING: Mild Swearing

WORD COUNT: 3325

LINKS: Ao3 & Ff.net /End PT]

Skull opens the door to the meeting room, smoothing his grumpy face for a more professionally unwilling and disapproving one, his manager and his two perfectly capable bodyguards following in his steps. The seven people already sat at one side of the long table turn their eyes on them, and the blond one whistles loud and drawled out, unmistakably appreciative, looking him up and down.

Dead silence falls in the room, Skull and his team pausing in their steps. Blondie widens his eyes, slapping his hand against his mouth, his golden, tan skin taking on an increasing red tint. One of the two women at either side of him lets out a brief burst of laughter, then slaps her hand against her mouth too to muffle it. Some of the others snicker more discreetly than hers, while the rest of them simply smile, more or less wide and mocking.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Blondie says, "that was so inappropriate. I don't know what came over me, but please, don't let it affect your decision or reflect on my teammates. I swear it won't happen again—shut up," he grits through his teeth in a low hiss at his colleague, but she just turns her head and leans it against the shoulder of her colleague at her other side, still laughing as quietly as she can in her fist, her shoulders shaking. Blondie turns back to him, his face decidedly red now. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Skull says, trying to restrain his smile for his sake, and maybe now feeling a little less unwilling about this whole meeting thing, and what about it? He didn't even try for it, wearing a plain all black outfit—hoodie, pants and snickers—, though he still did his hair and makeup. "Thanks."

Blondie groans, hiding his face in his hands as he leans his elbows on the table. Next to him his colleague has yet to stop laughing, sounding like she's choking on her laughter now, but none of her colleagues seem worried about it, so Skull doesn't either.

He makes for the other side of the table, flicking his eyes over them. They all look very professional in their black suits, each wearing a dress shirt of a different color under their jackets. One of them wears an indigo cowl matching with their dress shirt, the hood up and low enough it hides their eyes, an upside down purple triangle tattooed on their cheeks. Another one wears an Asian suit from the look of it, a Chinese one he'd guess, while he thinks he glimpses a fedora on the lap of the one with a yellow dress shirt.

Their suits look very expensive too, and very pretty, which he can't help but notice because he has two functioning, seeing eyes, and it's a bit hard to keep his eyes up and not to stare.

He takes a seat across the woman next to Blondie, the one not still currently laughing, sitting in the middle of them—or almost in the middle, seeing as they add to an odd number. His manager takes the seat next to him, while his bodyguards stand behind them.

The woman has a little orange tattoo under her left eye looking like a flower, and from up close, the other one next to Blondie has what looks like a burnt scar curling around her right eye and down her cheekbone, and just now is making herself stop laughing.

"Good afternoon, sir," the woman with the flower tattoo says, sliding a stack of business cards over to him past the file in front of her. "My name's Luce, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, good afternoon. Nice to meet you too, but you can all just call me Skull." He flips the cards one after another, catching the different names on it. He catches the names of different agencies too, raising his eyebrow at it.

"Please, excuse our colleague's…" she glances at Blondie, still hiding his face in his hands "...uncharacteristic behavior."

"He meant no offense," the man at her other side says, the one with the fedora on his lap. He sits like a king in his chair, his legs crossed at the knees, somehow managing to smirk professionally. He has the blackest eyes Skull's ever seen, seemingly seeing right through him, cute, curly sideburns at either side of his face. "On the contrary, clearly."

Blondie groans loudly, abruptly leaning back against his chair, still hiding his face in his hands. "Just kill me now."

His colleagues laugh at him again, and he forcefully ruffles his hair, not dislodging at all the bandanna holding his hair away from his eyes. He crosses his arms on his chest then, his face still red, and he's clearly not looking at him.

"It's fine," Skull says again, biting his lip to restrain his grin, but he doubts it's doing much. "None taken. Surely you already knew how I look like, though?" he can't help but ask.

"Of course we did our homework in the case you should decide to hire us," Cute Curly Sideburns says smoothly, his voice syrupy sweet, "but I have to admit too that none of the pictures I've seen of you do you any justice face to face." He very pointedly looks him up and down then, but somehow still makes it look like a casual, absentminded look when he catches his eye again.

Skull gaps, and does not feel himself blushing.

Oh, oh, that little—that—that devious man!

What the hell, what even was that? That wasn't very professional now, was it?

Was that even legal? Or was it a marketing strategy, seducing his employers-to-be to make sure they do end up as his employers? Not that he did anything much, or would ever need—no, not the point, Skull, focus.

Oh, this is so not fair.

"I'm Reborn," he says, just as Skull remembers to close his mouth and is about to look away, and he just knows Reborn chose his timing on purpose to force him to keep his eyes on him. He offers his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Skull."

"Me too," Skull says, shaking his hand, totally not blushing no matter what Reborn's smirk is telling him.

Next to Reborn, the one with the cowl huffs, sounding like they're rolling their eyes under their hood. "Viper."

"Fon," the man next to them says, bowing his head slightly, a smile on his lips.

The woman next to Blondie nods. "Lal."

"Verde," the man next to her says, green hair just as bright as his purple hair.

"Colonnello," Blondie says last, and apparently put himself back together enough he can look him in the eye now. He even offers his hand for a handshake, big and cold and calloused, and his own shivers a little at the contact.

Skull gives them all a brief, polite smile. "Nice to meet you all." He clears his throat. "So. Seven of you?" he asks, almost rolling his eyes.

Really, his manager is just too much sometimes. The hell is he supposed to do with seven bodyguards? The hell are they all supposed to individually do with him when there's seven of them?

"Your manager let us understand it's a necessary measure," Luce says.

Skull turns a deadpan, pointed look at his manager, who splutters in his hurry to justify himself. "It is! Do you even realize how many people tried to kill you by now? The lengths they've gone to in their attempts to kill you? I can't even begin to imagine why you'd be targeted with so much prejudice, but do I need to remind you the—

"Okay, yeah, fine," Skull cuts him off, frowning a little, because, yeah, it is starting to get a little out of hands. Who is he, the queen of England? "But seven of them? How are they even—" he whispers, then glances at them before looking back at him. He lowers his voice another notch. "Where are they even—"

"Of course we won't all be with you at all times," Luce is quick to reassure him. "We'll work in smaller teams so to cover all your bases, though one of them will have to constantly stay with you, keeping you safe and getting you safely wherever you'll need to go."

Skull scoffs, and he didn't really mean to, but, yeah, no. "No, thanks. I can get myself wherever I need to just fine all by myself, thank you very much."

Verde scoffs, glancing up at his bodyguards before looking back at him. "And they just let you?" he asks, clearly distasteful and judging.

"Yes," Skull stresses pointedly before his two perfectly capable bodyguards can voice their offense should they feel the need to. "On my demand. And I am the one ultimately calling the shots, am I not?"

"I can think of ten ways off the top of my head I could kill you by messing with your personal vehicles," Viper says.

Skull stubbornly crosses his arms on his chest. "Yeah, well, I can think of twenty ways off the top of my head I could live through your ten ways of messing with my personal vehicles, and still get wherever I was going to with them."

"In the case of a car chase—" Verde tries again, but Skull scoffs again, loud and disbelieving, almost bursting out laughing.

"I thought you all did your homework already?" he taunts.

He expects Verde to react negatively at that, but he smiles instead, looking amused. He looks a bit condescending too, like he's looking at a kid overestimating his abilities when Skull meant every word, thank you very much, but it is quite the nice smile on his lips.

At the corner of his eye Colonnello and Lal are grinning too, pleasantly surprised as far as he can tell, while Reborn's low chuckles tingles his skin down his spine, and is it suddenly hot in the room or what?

He shouldn't have put on a hoodie.

"Skull," his manager starts, displeasure clear in his voice.

"It's fine," Fon cuts him off, his voice placating. "There's no need to fight among us about this matter. Whichever personal vehicle you use, there'll always be at least one place for more, yes?" he asks, but it's a rhetorical question. "One of us can always take a ride with you. Would you be okay with that, Skull?"

Skull has still plenty to say on the matter, but good lord, does Fon have arms if he's ever seen ones. And muscles hugged just right by his suit.

Skull isn't even religious, but he's really going to need a divine intervention to stop being distracted by the sight in front of him.

What do they even look so pretty for anyway? Can people even look that pretty? Do people that pretty even exist?

He knows he exists, obviously, but that's different and not the point, and he's still staring at Fon's arms, isn't he? Fuck, move your eyes upwards, you hopeless simp—

"Wonderful," Luce says, taking his silence for an agreement. And what did he just say? A divine intervention, at the very least. "Glad we've gotten at least this one issue out of the way. Anything else you'd like clarifications on?"

"Yes," he says, wrenching his eyes away from Fon, trying to hold on his dignity and ignore the knowing looks they're all giving him. Like Skull hasn't caught them staring too. "What about my current bodyguards? They were there first, and I'm perfectly satisfied with them."

"Of course they can stay," Lal says, her arms crossed on her chest, all business-like all of a sudden, not that she wasn't already before. "If the level of threat you're under right now is to be believed, we definitely could use the extra hands to keep you, your team, and anyone you'll be working with safe, as they're likely to be targeted too to get to you. Or you can send them on paid vacation until we're done doing our job, as it's only meant to be a temporary measure until we've dealt with the threats on your life."

"On that note," Colonnello says, a serious look on his face too, "anything else you can tell us about that? About whom or why? Anything would help."

His manager and him exchange a glance.

His manager shakes his head. "Like I've already said," he starts, sounding apologetic, "I really have no idea why this is happening. And if Skull knows, he didn't see fit to tell me about it."

"Dude!" Skull blurts out, equally amused and incredulous. "Way to throw me under the bus, what the hell? You're supposed to be on my side here."

His manager purses his lips. "This is really not a joke, Skull. Your life literally depends on it, so please, take this seriously."

"Do you know something?" Luce asks.

Skull almost rolls his eyes, but he knows his manager means well and only has his well-being in mind, which he's grateful for. He shrugs. "I don't know," he lies. "Maybe some really obsessed fans? Or some jealous haters? I'm becoming really famous by now."

He does have a guess, because they're all weirdly committed to this, and actually only try to kill him after Skull turned down their weird recruiting thing for God knows what. But no one else has to suspect it, let alone know for sure about his very literal immortality, which he can only assume is what it's all about.

"Strongly doubt it," his manager says. "We're a far cry from the usual stalker behavior or kidnapping attempts, and even from the attempted murders by knives or guns."

"There's nothing usual about me, that's why."

That gets a little laugh out of all of them, even Luce, seemingly despite herself. It drops her business facade for a second, but then she catches herself, bringing a graceful hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes remain crinkled at the corner and full of mirth though, and she steals his breath away just a little.

She clears her throat. "I see. In any case, ultimately the why doesn't matter, so there's nothing for you to worry about. We'll still thoroughly deal with all of them, and make sure no one else even thinks about trying ever again." Skull raises his eyebrow, then exchanges a glance with his manager. That was foreboding. "Anything else you'd like to know? Something about us or our services, maybe?"

"I don't want your services," Skull says, pouting, maybe now being difficult just for the sake of being difficult.

But also totally not, because how is he supposed to keep himself together with them as his bodyguards? With them as his bodyguards looking like that? Do they expect him to be and remain professional about it? Do they expect him to draw a hard line about them not being anything but professional with him should they feel otherwise?

Yeah, right. Because that totally sounds like him alright.

Oh, yeah, he'd also have to make sure they don't learn about his immortality, which is hard enough with two bodyguards, let alone seven.

"Skull," his manager hisses in his ear. "Just make an effort, will you? Do you even realize just how expensive this meeting alone is?"

Oh, right. "What are even your prices?" Luce smiles, and then says a frankly outrageous number, and Skull should be given a medal for not bursting out laughing. He can't possibly have heard that right. Who are they, the kings and queens of England? "Come again?" he asks, his disbelief thick in his voice.

Luce laughs indulgently, while the others smile, some even chuckling. "We're the best of the best in the field, that's why. None of the people we've ever protected got even if only a scratch on them, let alone died under our protection, so please, trust me when I say we're worth the investment."

"No, please," Skull says, still wondering if he should bow or get on his knees or something. "Do tell me your prices again so I'm sure I've heard you right."

"We have a deal," his manager cuts in.

Skull gives him a look, opening his mouth, but he gives him a look, and he closes it again. He huffs, slumping in his chair. It's totally not like Skull is the boss of him or anything.

Luce claps her hands together. "Wonderful! Thank you for your trust. Here." She slides her file to him. "Those are our contracts. You can get back to us tomorrow at the latest, so please, take your time reading them."

"Thank you very much," his manager says, taking the file while standing. Luce stands too, and Skull does the same because he's not that rude. "Thank you for having us."

"It was our pleasure," she says, offering her hand to his manager, then to him. "I'm looking forwards to this partnership."

Skull gives her a polite smile, taking her hand in his.

Luce pulls him forwards as glass shatters, his manager yelping in surprise and falling back on his chair, Colonnello seemingly having tripped him under the table. Skull catches himself on the table with his free arm, something wheezing above his head then crashing against the wall.

His bodyguards hurriedly move, cursing, taking out their guns and switching the safety off. One stand next to him, turned to the door, the other next to his manager, turned to the window, both shielding them from—from what?

"Sirs, are you alright?" one of them asks.

"They're fine," Luce answers for them when they both miss a beat.

What the hell just happened?

No, that's not it. He knows what just happened, because God knows it annoyingly happens too often by now, but how did she know? How did they apparently all know for that matter?

Skull cautiously straightens himself, leaning his hand on the table. There's a bullet hole in the window, and a frankly worrying, big impact on the wall opposite where the bullet landed, without first going through his manager's or his skull, lucky them.

He looks at Luce, who looks like nothing happened, entirely nonplussed.

"I'm sorry for the abrupt save," she says, briefly grazing her fingertips down the arm he used to catch himself. "You are fine, aren't you?"

Skull is distracted from answering her by the others standing, all of them looking nonplussed, and straight up happy, even, smiling excitedly.

Colonnello, Reborn and Lal take out their gun, switch the safety off, and Skull didn't know the motion and ensuing, resounding click of it could look and sound so hot, but goddamn, did it ever.

"Dibs," Colonnello says.

Reborn clicks his tongue, catching his eye.

"Oh, shut up, the both of you," Lal cuts him off before he can even say anything, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure there'll be enough of them for each of us to have a piece of the cake."

They exchange a glance, baring their teeth more than grinning at each other, and wow, Skull's so bi and is so fucking happy he is.

"Aren't the windows bulletproof?" Verde asks, walking to the window, while Fon and Viper walk to the door.

"It was," Luce says. "Until they obviously found the right bullets."

"Or maybe you're just becoming sloppy," Viper taunts, making Fon laugh.

Luce just rolls her eyes, then catches his eye. "Shall we?"

Skull blinks back to reality. Right. He straightens fully and away from the table, glancing down—and oh, right, he's still holding Luce's hand, isn't he? He should probably let go of it. He clears his throat, not letting go of it, but Luce doesn't let go of his hand either, so. "Sure," he says, smiling, and this time means it. This is going to be an absolute disaster, but who is Skull to suddenly start making responsible, reasonable decisions? "After you."

I’ll simply never have enough of Skull simping after the Arcos (and the Arcos simping after him right back). And no, it’s not me projecting onto him, I don’t know what you’re talking about at all.

Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

[Plain text: “I’ll simply never have enough of Skull simping after the Arcos (and the Arcos simping after him right back). And no, it’s not me projecting onto him, I don’t know what you’re talking about at all.

Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!” in bold. /End PT]

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