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100_roadtrips drabbles:
#22: Say it with flowers!
Zukaru, Suika, and now this bitch. He hated them, really, goddamned, loathed illusionists, with their hills of skulls and their perfect lives he didn’t live and now...
Huge marble room, the floor strewn with poppies and roses and those little red daises that seemed to follow him around, all of it red, red, red.
A hand stroking his cheek, caressing his scars and then pain stabbed through his back.
I was looking at her when she tried to kill me, Gojyo wanted to say but his mouth was full of blood.
It was the only detail that she’d gotten wrong.
#48: (Goddamned) Subtext (Dokugakuji/Yaone)
Kougaiji starts giving Yaone significant glances over the tactics table and Dokugakuji’s right eye twitches.
Kougaiji starts making sure his fingers brush Yaone’s when she hands him the dishes she’s made for supper, and Dokugakuji loses his appetite.
Sure, it’s not a surprise - Kou did mention that he was interested in her, but didn’t the demon prince know that when his swordsmen had said, “Good luck. She’s really incredible, isn’t she?” what he’d actually meant was “I’ve wanted her since we met?”
The only upside to this whole clusterfuck was that their beloved apothecary seemed totally oblivious to them both.
#42: Pain (Goku/Pippi)
Pippi limped down to the breakfast table, her face pinched and hair not in its usual tight braids. She didn’t even act annoyed that there weren’t any lemon muffins left.
“You’re going to work today?” Goku asked, surprised.
“Of course,” Pippi said with an almost Sanzo-like level of curtness, arm wrapped around her stomach “Why?”
“Well, it’s just you smell all bloody and hurting and-”
Goku doesn’t know why she hits him with the water pitcher, but Hakkai decides to make her some kind of special tea.
He also hadn’t known her face could go as red as Gojyo’s hair.
#68: Shumi (Nii)
The best way to taste the end, to sip the death of something as large and ponderous as the universe was to create it in others.
He cultivated them, fostered entropy in their souls like hothouse flowers, until they were empty, uncomplicated, vaguely amusing dolls. When Nii dressed as a priest, he bore death on his shoulders, happily controlled entropy like a master technician working on the finest machine ever built.
Of course, people had to exist for that. When he was alone... well, it’s wasn’t like he could have any fun at all playing with himself, now could he?
For![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
renegadekitsune, who's having a sucky, test-filled week, and has been pleading for some Gojyo/Yaone...
#35: In My Pocket (Gojyo/Yaone)
“Do you happen to have a lighter?” Yaone asked, calmly, you’d never guess that they had been beaten and shoved in a pitch-black oubliette.
His face was bloody, his body bruised, he was chained to a wall, and the world suddenly because a beautiful, beautiful place.
“It’s in the front pocket of my jeans.”
Silence.
Yaone leaned close. He could feel the heat of her body, smell gunpowder-vanillia-girlsweat. She placed her hand pointedly on his knee, squeezed hard enough that her nails pricked at his skin.
“If it’s not there,” she breathed. “I will be very unhappy.”
She really needed to learn how to threaten guys.
100_roadtrips drabbles:#22: Say it with flowers!
Zukaru, Suika, and now this bitch. He hated them, really, goddamned, loathed illusionists, with their hills of skulls and their perfect lives he didn’t live and now...
Huge marble room, the floor strewn with poppies and roses and those little red daises that seemed to follow him around, all of it red, red, red.
A hand stroking his cheek, caressing his scars and then pain stabbed through his back.
I was looking at her when she tried to kill me, Gojyo wanted to say but his mouth was full of blood.
It was the only detail that she’d gotten wrong.
#48: (Goddamned) Subtext (Dokugakuji/Yaone)
Kougaiji starts giving Yaone significant glances over the tactics table and Dokugakuji’s right eye twitches.
Kougaiji starts making sure his fingers brush Yaone’s when she hands him the dishes she’s made for supper, and Dokugakuji loses his appetite.
Sure, it’s not a surprise - Kou did mention that he was interested in her, but didn’t the demon prince know that when his swordsmen had said, “Good luck. She’s really incredible, isn’t she?” what he’d actually meant was “I’ve wanted her since we met?”
The only upside to this whole clusterfuck was that their beloved apothecary seemed totally oblivious to them both.
#42: Pain (Goku/Pippi)
Pippi limped down to the breakfast table, her face pinched and hair not in its usual tight braids. She didn’t even act annoyed that there weren’t any lemon muffins left.
“You’re going to work today?” Goku asked, surprised.
“Of course,” Pippi said with an almost Sanzo-like level of curtness, arm wrapped around her stomach “Why?”
“Well, it’s just you smell all bloody and hurting and-”
Goku doesn’t know why she hits him with the water pitcher, but Hakkai decides to make her some kind of special tea.
He also hadn’t known her face could go as red as Gojyo’s hair.
#68: Shumi (Nii)
The best way to taste the end, to sip the death of something as large and ponderous as the universe was to create it in others.
He cultivated them, fostered entropy in their souls like hothouse flowers, until they were empty, uncomplicated, vaguely amusing dolls. When Nii dressed as a priest, he bore death on his shoulders, happily controlled entropy like a master technician working on the finest machine ever built.
Of course, people had to exist for that. When he was alone... well, it’s wasn’t like he could have any fun at all playing with himself, now could he?
For
renegadekitsune, who's having a sucky, test-filled week, and has been pleading for some Gojyo/Yaone...#35: In My Pocket (Gojyo/Yaone)
“Do you happen to have a lighter?” Yaone asked, calmly, you’d never guess that they had been beaten and shoved in a pitch-black oubliette.
His face was bloody, his body bruised, he was chained to a wall, and the world suddenly because a beautiful, beautiful place.
“It’s in the front pocket of my jeans.”
Silence.
Yaone leaned close. He could feel the heat of her body, smell gunpowder-vanillia-girlsweat. She placed her hand pointedly on his knee, squeezed hard enough that her nails pricked at his skin.
“If it’s not there,” she breathed. “I will be very unhappy.”
She really needed to learn how to threaten guys.
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