[KHR Fic] Black Attraction (Hibari x Haru)
Title: Black Attraction
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Hibari/Haru - poison; "a sip will only mess you up" (for khrfest)
Warnings: first time writing Hibari's POV so... possible OOCness?
Summary: She was a toxic pull, a dangerous territory, and Kyoya desired to cross its border.
Notes: Shamelessly stole the title from Kurumi's power in Needless.
Black Attraction
(There was something about Miura Haru, curled up in a ball and shaking and whimpering, that reminded Kyoya of a vulnerable small animal.)
“Stop crying,” he told her.
“Haru’s… not… crying,” she hiccupped.
The small vision of innocence swiftly vanished from his eyes as Haru lifted her head to reveal a tear-streaked and unattractive face. If she didn’t want to listen to him, then there was no further reason to be here.
“Suit yourself,” said Kyoya as he turned to leave the balcony and back into the crowded welcoming party for Sawada Tsunayoshi’s newborn son.
“H-Hibari-san?” croaked Haru from behind him.
Kyoya whirled around. Haru stood up and smoothed her white cocktail dress. Her smeared makeup around her eyes, an external sign of some sort of internal struggle, made her look like a raccoon, but he didn’t really care enough to tell her so.
“Well,” she continued, her voice steadier this time. “You know how you think you’ve accepted something, and you tell yourself that it’s all for the best and that you’ll be okay because you’re strong, but then you finally realize that maybe, deep down inside, you haven’t really accepted it?”
“No,” Kyoya answered. He sensed he’d been pulled into something troublesome, and whatever it was, he already decided it mattered little to him.
“I see,” spoke Haru in a small voice as she hung her head down and played with the hem of her dress.
(There was something about her slender, manicured finger tracing invisible random designs - light, but deliberate - that reminded Kyoya of a bird exploring the vast sky. And despite all logic, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.)
Then a tiny laugh broke the stillness between them.
“This… this is kind of weird, huh?” Haru said as she smoothed her dress again.
Kyoya didn’t understand her constant need for fixing her dress. When left alone, it sat just right on her petite hourglass figure, wrinkle-free and shimmering like white water. But there was one thing that hindered the acceptability of Haru’s presentation.
“Fix your makeup,” said Kyoya dryly.
“Hahi?” Haru dug through her clutch purse and pulled a mirror to check herself. “Ugh, Haru looks awful!”
As she wiped her face with crumpled scrap tissue found in her purse, Kyoya watched her silently from a comfortable distance as he lit up a cigarette and leaned against the balcony, letting the hot, dry, mint-laced tar fill his lungs.
Haru’s back was turned to him, but he could see how sleek her ivory skin was. How her chestnut brown hair fell to just above her shoulders and swayed fluidly as she moved.
“Done!” she trilled as she faced him and beamed. “How does Haru look?”
Kyoya jumped a little, unable to decide whether to attribute the nearly-dropped cigarette to her sudden sunny tone or to the fact that the light metallic purple across her eyelids made her eyes look very…
“Presentable,” he answered.
Haru frowned and her eyes grew dark. “That’s it? Just ‘presentable?’” She whacked his arm with her purse. “How could you say that to a lady? Don’t you know anything about women?”
She was in his personal space, and he reflexively took an irritated step back.
“I’m not interested,” he said. This woman had a penchant for asking questions; he should’ve left when he had the chance.
It was all her fault.
(There was something about her, standing in that moon-kissed spot with fresh makeup and long legs stretching out from her sparkling white dress, that made Kyoya almost want to describe her as immaculate.)
Haru’s face softened, and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Sorry for hitting you,” she mumbled. “But… you’re always so serious, Hibari-san!”
Kyoya cast her a disapproving look. There was no reason to be anything other than serious, so he didn’t understand what the issue was. Not in the mood for this cryptic conversation, Kyoya finished his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe.
“Hahi? Leaving already?” Haru asked.
“Yes.”
“Wait! Ummm…” she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “You haven’t tried the cake yet!”
Kyoya tried to free himself from her grasp, but surprisingly, she wouldn’t let go. Looking at her face, he could’ve sworn that the light pink on her cheeks wasn’t there before.
“Haru and Kyoko-chan made it this morning together. Well, not together, really.” Haru released his arm and looked somewhere else in the distance. “Actually, the only thing we did together was gather the ingredients. Then Kyoko-chan had to go nurse the baby so Haru finished baking the cake herself. But it’s good, really! Haru will get you a piece, so wait here!”
Before Kyoya could decline, the rushed click of her shoes back into the party left him alone with the night breeze lightly blowing across his face. There were a million reasons to just walk out, but his feet stayed firmly in place. Perhaps he was really bored. Perhaps he really did want to taste the cake. Perhaps he was doing this to get her to shut up. Or perhaps…
“Here it is!” said Haru, smiling as she held up a plate with a small piece of marble cake, perfectly sliced and whose whimsical swirls of chocolate and vanilla reminded Kyoya of her finger-traced designs from before.
“I don’t want it,” he said, remembering that he wasn’t too fond of sweets.
“Yes, you do.” She enunciated every syllable and folded her arms across her chest.
(There was something about the glint in her narrowed eyes that reminded Kyoya of an awakened beast, a look that made his skin tingle with excitement.)
Just to see what she’d do next, he cut a piece of cake with a fork and put it in his mouth. As he slowly chewed to savor the warm, velvety flavors, Haru ruined his eating experience with eager prompts for feedback.
“It’s good,” Kyoya replied nonchalantly after he finished his bite.
Haru grinned and clapped giddily. “Oh, good! Haru’s so happy!”
The silvery glow around her, the berry pink lips, small yet luscious, all suddenly seemed much more alluring than the cake in his hands. She was a toxic pull, a dangerous territory, and Kyoya desired to cross its border. For everyone else - weaklings, as he liked to call them - the taste of any poison would have killed them.
But he wasn’t “everyone else.” He was Hibari Kyoya, Vongola’s strongest Guardian. No poison would ever strike him down, not even a sip.
Kyoya pushed the cake aside and stepped forward to cup Haru’s face in his hands.
“Hahi?” she squeaked, shivering under his touch.
He locked onto his target - her trembling lips - and slowly lowered his face towards her.
“Hi… bari… -san?”
Just a sip.
Their lips met, and Kyoya pressed their faces closer together. Her mouth was soft and moist, and his tongue searched for hers as they deepened their kiss. Kyoya felt her nails digging sharply, desperately, into his suit jacket. Before he could stop himself, his hands had migrated to her silky hair, her smooth back, her rounded ass. And when she began to moan, his senses finally caught up to him, and he abruptly pulled away, refusing to let himself be broken by a woman.
She looked confused. “Hibari-san?”
Kyoya wiped the sampled temptation from his lips on his sleeve and turned his back to her. “This never happened.”
“W-What do you mean?” she asked. He heard tears breaking through her voice.
Kyoya turned around briefly, but quickly saw that it was a mistake. The anguish in her eyes was too much for him.
“This never happened,” he repeated firmly and disappeared into the sea of partygoers inside.
(There was something about Miura Haru, enigmatic yet lethal, that made Kyoya tell himself repeatedly it was the sweetness of the cake he preferred over the sweetness of her lips.)
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Hibari/Haru - poison; "a sip will only mess you up" (for khrfest)
Warnings: first time writing Hibari's POV so... possible OOCness?
Summary: She was a toxic pull, a dangerous territory, and Kyoya desired to cross its border.
Notes: Shamelessly stole the title from Kurumi's power in Needless.
Black Attraction
(There was something about Miura Haru, curled up in a ball and shaking and whimpering, that reminded Kyoya of a vulnerable small animal.)
“Stop crying,” he told her.
“Haru’s… not… crying,” she hiccupped.
The small vision of innocence swiftly vanished from his eyes as Haru lifted her head to reveal a tear-streaked and unattractive face. If she didn’t want to listen to him, then there was no further reason to be here.
“Suit yourself,” said Kyoya as he turned to leave the balcony and back into the crowded welcoming party for Sawada Tsunayoshi’s newborn son.
“H-Hibari-san?” croaked Haru from behind him.
Kyoya whirled around. Haru stood up and smoothed her white cocktail dress. Her smeared makeup around her eyes, an external sign of some sort of internal struggle, made her look like a raccoon, but he didn’t really care enough to tell her so.
“Well,” she continued, her voice steadier this time. “You know how you think you’ve accepted something, and you tell yourself that it’s all for the best and that you’ll be okay because you’re strong, but then you finally realize that maybe, deep down inside, you haven’t really accepted it?”
“No,” Kyoya answered. He sensed he’d been pulled into something troublesome, and whatever it was, he already decided it mattered little to him.
“I see,” spoke Haru in a small voice as she hung her head down and played with the hem of her dress.
(There was something about her slender, manicured finger tracing invisible random designs - light, but deliberate - that reminded Kyoya of a bird exploring the vast sky. And despite all logic, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.)
Then a tiny laugh broke the stillness between them.
“This… this is kind of weird, huh?” Haru said as she smoothed her dress again.
Kyoya didn’t understand her constant need for fixing her dress. When left alone, it sat just right on her petite hourglass figure, wrinkle-free and shimmering like white water. But there was one thing that hindered the acceptability of Haru’s presentation.
“Fix your makeup,” said Kyoya dryly.
“Hahi?” Haru dug through her clutch purse and pulled a mirror to check herself. “Ugh, Haru looks awful!”
As she wiped her face with crumpled scrap tissue found in her purse, Kyoya watched her silently from a comfortable distance as he lit up a cigarette and leaned against the balcony, letting the hot, dry, mint-laced tar fill his lungs.
Haru’s back was turned to him, but he could see how sleek her ivory skin was. How her chestnut brown hair fell to just above her shoulders and swayed fluidly as she moved.
“Done!” she trilled as she faced him and beamed. “How does Haru look?”
Kyoya jumped a little, unable to decide whether to attribute the nearly-dropped cigarette to her sudden sunny tone or to the fact that the light metallic purple across her eyelids made her eyes look very…
“Presentable,” he answered.
Haru frowned and her eyes grew dark. “That’s it? Just ‘presentable?’” She whacked his arm with her purse. “How could you say that to a lady? Don’t you know anything about women?”
She was in his personal space, and he reflexively took an irritated step back.
“I’m not interested,” he said. This woman had a penchant for asking questions; he should’ve left when he had the chance.
It was all her fault.
(There was something about her, standing in that moon-kissed spot with fresh makeup and long legs stretching out from her sparkling white dress, that made Kyoya almost want to describe her as immaculate.)
Haru’s face softened, and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Sorry for hitting you,” she mumbled. “But… you’re always so serious, Hibari-san!”
Kyoya cast her a disapproving look. There was no reason to be anything other than serious, so he didn’t understand what the issue was. Not in the mood for this cryptic conversation, Kyoya finished his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe.
“Hahi? Leaving already?” Haru asked.
“Yes.”
“Wait! Ummm…” she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “You haven’t tried the cake yet!”
Kyoya tried to free himself from her grasp, but surprisingly, she wouldn’t let go. Looking at her face, he could’ve sworn that the light pink on her cheeks wasn’t there before.
“Haru and Kyoko-chan made it this morning together. Well, not together, really.” Haru released his arm and looked somewhere else in the distance. “Actually, the only thing we did together was gather the ingredients. Then Kyoko-chan had to go nurse the baby so Haru finished baking the cake herself. But it’s good, really! Haru will get you a piece, so wait here!”
Before Kyoya could decline, the rushed click of her shoes back into the party left him alone with the night breeze lightly blowing across his face. There were a million reasons to just walk out, but his feet stayed firmly in place. Perhaps he was really bored. Perhaps he really did want to taste the cake. Perhaps he was doing this to get her to shut up. Or perhaps…
“Here it is!” said Haru, smiling as she held up a plate with a small piece of marble cake, perfectly sliced and whose whimsical swirls of chocolate and vanilla reminded Kyoya of her finger-traced designs from before.
“I don’t want it,” he said, remembering that he wasn’t too fond of sweets.
“Yes, you do.” She enunciated every syllable and folded her arms across her chest.
(There was something about the glint in her narrowed eyes that reminded Kyoya of an awakened beast, a look that made his skin tingle with excitement.)
Just to see what she’d do next, he cut a piece of cake with a fork and put it in his mouth. As he slowly chewed to savor the warm, velvety flavors, Haru ruined his eating experience with eager prompts for feedback.
“It’s good,” Kyoya replied nonchalantly after he finished his bite.
Haru grinned and clapped giddily. “Oh, good! Haru’s so happy!”
The silvery glow around her, the berry pink lips, small yet luscious, all suddenly seemed much more alluring than the cake in his hands. She was a toxic pull, a dangerous territory, and Kyoya desired to cross its border. For everyone else - weaklings, as he liked to call them - the taste of any poison would have killed them.
But he wasn’t “everyone else.” He was Hibari Kyoya, Vongola’s strongest Guardian. No poison would ever strike him down, not even a sip.
Kyoya pushed the cake aside and stepped forward to cup Haru’s face in his hands.
“Hahi?” she squeaked, shivering under his touch.
He locked onto his target - her trembling lips - and slowly lowered his face towards her.
“Hi… bari… -san?”
Just a sip.
Their lips met, and Kyoya pressed their faces closer together. Her mouth was soft and moist, and his tongue searched for hers as they deepened their kiss. Kyoya felt her nails digging sharply, desperately, into his suit jacket. Before he could stop himself, his hands had migrated to her silky hair, her smooth back, her rounded ass. And when she began to moan, his senses finally caught up to him, and he abruptly pulled away, refusing to let himself be broken by a woman.
She looked confused. “Hibari-san?”
Kyoya wiped the sampled temptation from his lips on his sleeve and turned his back to her. “This never happened.”
“W-What do you mean?” she asked. He heard tears breaking through her voice.
Kyoya turned around briefly, but quickly saw that it was a mistake. The anguish in her eyes was too much for him.
“This never happened,” he repeated firmly and disappeared into the sea of partygoers inside.
(There was something about Miura Haru, enigmatic yet lethal, that made Kyoya tell himself repeatedly it was the sweetness of the cake he preferred over the sweetness of her lips.)