Crowley under cover.
As far as cover went, it was nearly perfect. Sure, there were dangers, like the gimlet eye of the angel, who certainly suspected that something was not right, but couldn’t put his finger on what that something might be. Crowley could deal with that in his sleep, and frequently did.
Mad Hatter visits Yukimura in the hospital.
An individual of duller perception might have assumed se was seeking younger patients to entertain. A fool might have lashed out in a misguided effort to drive hir away.
It was not Seiichi’s judgment that was numb, and no one could call him a fool.
Sanada’s and Yanagi’s reactions to the whole story about Belial.
Saying that Genichirou and Renji were not happy simply did not address the magnitude of their feelings on the subject.
Michael’s offer to Fudoumine.
The guy he was here to visit, Tachibana, seemed as pleased by the news as anything else. “So,” he said. “Yukimura will be playing at Nationals.” He practically glowed with anticipation.
“Yep,” Michael said.
“And you’re here because…?” the girl asked, eyes sharp.
Sanada makes a further discovery.
Seiichi knew the moment Genichirou noticed Mad Hatter’s seal, low on one hip and inconspicuous except to a thorough lover.
Kurai and Noise explain things to Sanada.
Belial waved a hand. “Not at all,” se said. “Her Majesty is here to relieve certain misapprehensions regarding her husband’s domain.” Se glanced pointedly in the direction of the boy se had indicated previously, who was standing a little ways off and obviously trying not to look too much like he was hovering.
Yukimura followed the glance. “Ah,” he said. “I see.” He looked back at Kurai. “In that case, welcome.”
Possible answers about Kirihara’s proclivities.
Niou’s eyes narrowed. “So,” he drawled, “it’s one of yours that makes him do that thing with the red eyes and the violence?”
Lucifer finally meets Michael at Fudoumine.
“What do you want?” Michael demanded, glaring. If there had been any justice in the universe, Lucifer would have combusted on the spot, and Belial would’ve gone up right along with him.
Ann discusses older brothers with Michael.
He should have known Ann was going to come after him at some point the minute his bastard of an older brother had shown up. Well, he had known, to be honest, though he had been avoiding thinking about it.
Raphael comes looking for Michael and gets a surprise.
He very nearly bypassed the first school, figuring it for a fluke, until the boy with glasses looked directly at him, sighed, and inquired, "We’re not interested, but thank you anyway." He eyed Raphael. "You might try Hyoutei."
Aziraphale comes looking for Crowley.
It was a beautiful day: the sunlight was warm and the bleachers reasonably comfortable, and his host didn’t have a match with Atobe for at least another half hour. Crowley stretched and yawned, supremely content with just how good life was.
It really was a pity that things were about to get so complicated.
The Messiah and the Adversary chat, and Lucifer drops in. Aziraphale and Crowley sweat.
The Adversary stared at the Messiah, frowning. The Messiah stared right back, also frowning.
"You’re not what I was expecting," Adam said, at last, feeling that a Messiah ought to be wearing a white bathrobe, or have a halo, or somehow demonstrate his difference from ordinary humans (perhaps funny-colored eyes?).
Raphael earns the gratitude of Seigaku.
Just being an angel didn’t qualify Raphael as a particularly nice person. In fact, he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t even a particularly good person.
Tezuka sets up ranking blocks.
"Headache, Tezuka-kun?" Raphael asked, leaning against one of the empty desks.
Kunimitsu took his hand from his forehead. "I’m fine," he said, and that was true, but not likely to deter Raphael’s bored curiosity.
Some embarrassment over the seal.
Genichirou, Renji noted, seemed unwilling to look anybody in the face—no, that wasn’t strictly accurate. There were specific people he wasn’t looking in the face, and all of them had just signed the same contract.
Kirihara has a problem with spillover.
No one had told him that he was signing up for this.
Mad Hatter tempts Ohtori and tweaks Sakaki’s nose.
Someone had claimed the practice room ahead of him; the plaintive notes of a violin filtered dimly through the closed door, flaunting his reserved 5:15 to 6:15 slot in Ohtori Choutarou’s face.
Ukitake reports on disturbances in Tokyo.
Juushirou contemplated the blank page for a long time, marshaling his thoughts, before picking up his pen and beginning to write one of the most improbable reports in the history of Soul Society.
It is time for Timoteo to choose his Guardians, and he’s determined to do things his way. This project owes its inspiration to jetsam/thephoenixboy, who correctly guessed which fic was mine in the first round of khr_undercover, and requested a fic featuring Timoteo and his Guardians as her reward. I don’t believe she quite expected her request to spawn an entire humongous arc, but what can I say? It was a provocative prompt! *grin*
For a character guide, see the appendix (warning: spoilers for the arc!)
“Is it already time to be thinking of that?” Timoteo asked, to make time for his mind to race ahead and turn over the possibilities. “You’re still very young, Mother.”
“How kind of you to say,” she said, eyes glinting, not without humor. “I said that we were ready to confirm you as my heir, not that I was ready to step down. Don’t get too far above yourself.”
In which the Vongola Ninth’s Mist and Rain reach an agreement, and establish a pattern that will carry them forward. This is set about ten years before “Blood Will Tell.” Timoteo has been the Ninth for a little under a decade at this point. This is a sidestory for the arc, focusing pretty much entirely on two of the original characters, and is not necessary to the main thrust of A House Divided—but it may make some character motivations make more sense later.
Gianni may have been the Vongola Ninth’s right hand, and his Mist Guardian besides, but he wasn’t too proud to admit it when he was tired. And tonight, he was tired.
There comes a time in every young man’s life when he must seek his fortune. Sawada Iemitsu is off to seek his.
Sawada Iemitsu couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known that he was—or could have been, if he’d wanted to be—the heir to a great mafia empire.
Sometimes one small mistake can lead to an entire avalanche of nasty consequences.
One of the first things Sawada Iemitsu did in his apprenticeship to the Vongola Ninth’s outside advisor was bring the Ninth news of the woman who claimed that her son belonged to Timoteo Vongola. It was an act that Iemitsu reflected on later, grimly, deciding that it was the event that colored his entire service to the Vongola.
Hibari makes Romario very, very nervous, for a multitude of reasons. This is a Generations sidestory, taking place between “A House Divided” and “They Also Serve.”
Romario was quite sure that Hibari Kyouya was a perfectly good Cloud Guardian for young master Sawada. All the same, he was starting to wish that the boy would simply drop off a cliff and disappear—not permanently, just for a few months, perhaps, or however long it would take for Romario to get his master’s attention firmly settled on some nice young mafia lady who would be happy to make lots of little Cavallones while the boss went gallivanting around with the Vongola’s Cloud Guardian.
Kyouko and Haru deal with Family (and family) politics. This fic was originally written for the first round of khr_undercover and has been revised from the originally-posted version, mostly for the sake of development and expanding a few things.
The first day of her official duty as Sawada Kyouko’s personal bodyguard was nothing like I-Pin had imagined it would be.
Dino is only trying to help. Really. An omake to “They Also Serve“.
In which Tsuna wishes that people would stop trying to do him favors.
Mukuro likes strong things, and pawns who are loyal to him.
He leaves a message behind for whatever Estraneo survivors there might be. It’s written in smoke and blood, and it says, quite simply, Don’t do this again.
Sometimes Mukuro finds it necessary to tend to Xanxus.
After the last of the Arcobaleno fell, things began falling into place rapidly. Or began falling to pieces, to be more precise, which was much more to Mukuro’s taste.
Nothing that the Vongola Family does is ever actually simple. Nothing. For cliche_bingo, prompt: “Pregnancy.”
The one thing—some days, the only thing—everyone could agree to was that Shamal wasn’t the sort of person a pregnant woman should ever have to deal with.
A person can learn all sorts of useful, interesting things by eavesdropping. Takes place early on in The Queen and All Her Men.
Kyouya supposed that it was all well and good that Sawada’s cub had survived another year. Given the general atmosphere in which she’d done it, he even supposed that he could understand commemorating the accomplishment. What no one had been able to explain (to his satisfaction, at any rate) was why doing so involved filling the south garden with every squalling mafioso brat from one to ten years old, and why he was required to attend.
Takes place somewhere towards the middle of The Queen and All Her Men. Tsuna and Kyouko have a favor to ask.
Rokudou Mukuro came and went as freely as a Cloud—rather more freely than perhaps anyone other than Tsuna and Kyouko was really comfortable with, all things considered.
These are things that never happened to Xanxus, but could have done, if only things had started out just a bit differently. This fic is what happens when you say to yourself, “Gosh, I’ve been writing a lot of Xanxus angst lately. I wonder if it is possible to write Xanxus in such a way that he is, well, functionally broken instead of just psychopathically insane.” And then you get tackled by a plot bunny that is the size of a goddamn linebacker.
Xanxus stared up at the old geezer—this smiling old fool was supposed to be the Vongola Ninth? please—and lifted a hand to show him the Flame when he asked for it.
In which Federico teaches his brother a lesson about the importance of controlling one’s temper. For Round III of khrfest, prompt II-62. Xanxus — Anger Management; “He who angers you conquers you.”.
The heir to the Vongola would never do anything so crass as eavesdrop, not least because the Vongola had people for that. But, as Federico told himself, if he happened to be in the right place at the right time he could hardly help what he overheard, could he?
The Cradle Affair, this time with more Mukuro.
They began with the Vongola itself, because Mukuro was well aware of the psychological asset that taking out one’s strongest opponents first could be, and because he wanted to test the mettle of his new acquisition.
In which meeting the boss’s daughter changes Squalo’s life.
Squalo’s first real look at the Ninth’s adopted daughter was of her standing over Vittore Barassi with a clenched fist and a thunderous glare.
What Xanxus wants, Xanxus gets.
Xanxus has legs that just don’t quit, and she dresses to kill more literally than most women do.
Xanxus likes being on top. Adult! Part of the Fem!Xanxus branch of Choice.
Squalo’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. “Oh sweet Jesus, Boss,” he said, staring.
Xanxus’ lips peeled back from her teeth. “Yes?” She leaned back on her elbows, mother-naked. “Was there something you wanted to say?” Her eyes glittered beneath her lashes, practically daring him to object.
Squalo is Xanxus’ man, which means he’ll let her do whatever she wants with him.
Squalo wasn’t a fan of letting his boss go off to dinners at the main house all by herself—not because she couldn’t take care of herself, far from it, but because sometimes she didn’t take care of herself out of some perverse stubbornness of her own, and he hated watching that happen. Not that he really thought the old man or his sons meant badly, not really, but it was God’s own truth that neither Enrico nor Massimo or even the old man really understood Xanxus. They just didn’t get the fire or the strength of her and kept trying to shape her into something she wasn’t while they called it love.
There are far worse ways to die than this.
It ended the way sparring with Xanxus generally did: the room was a smoking ruin and Squalo was on his knees for her, out of breath and holding still because there was a warm muzzle resting between his eyebrows. And, of course, he was hard, but that was normal when it came to sparring, too.