[Week 12; Day 3] • [Video || Dream]
( OOC: WARNING: Please be aware that this dream contains NC-17 content. )
[ The dream starts out, just like ones Hibari has had many times before; overlooking Namimori from the top of the Middle School building. He's young; still a teenager, though dressed as he does in the future, suit and tie. He has a suitcase at his side, boarding pass in his left hand. It's like goodbye yet not at the same time. Hibari knows he'll be returning, for Namimori is his territory and no others are allowed there. But Italy calls, and so does forming the Foundation, so leaving is the only chance he has.
But the feeling of pure loss hangs heavy in the air and in his chest, because even if Hibari holds no attachment to people, Namimori is a different story.
His cell phone rings, a reminder of the plane departure, and Hibari retrieves his suitcase before leaving the roof. It isn't goodbye, but it certainly feels like one.
The dream shifts then, a flicker in his mind that takes longer than it should to focus.
An end of a mission, Chrome packing her suitcase on the other side of the room. Hibari is perched on one of the chairs, flipping over notes that look like scribbles. He knows Chrome will take them later, write them out properly to add with her own report on the mission. Hibari stands, checking his cell phone for messages and missed calls. He doesn't get a chance, because the shift in the room is easy to feel and without a second lost on him, Hibari pulls out his tonfas to deflect a direct hit to his throat from the trident.
The thrill of the oncoming fight runs through him, for Rokudo Mukuro never disappoints when he takes over for Chrome.
Another flicker, and the dream changes once again, taking quite some time to focus through the mist and dust that's still working on settling, leaving chaos and death in its wake.
There are bodies everywhere, surrounding a pair on both sides, two well-built bodies back to back while taking in the scene around them. Their own handiwork. It's only a split second later that they both lunge away before returning, metal hitting metal, tonfa grinding against trident; they part, only to connect again. It happens every time, one reading the others movement, attacking and reacting in perfect unison, one gaining no more ground than the other. It's a power exchange, a face off with no real malice, even if the killing intent radiates through the air. Only after another dozen exchanges are made do they stop where they started, tonfa once again meeting trident.
It's only when Hibari actually smirks that their mouths crash together into a bruising kiss, all tongues and teeth and no sentiment what so ever.
The dream flickers then, bleeds into another scene like it's not something Hibari wants to remember, even while dreaming.
Except that there's not too terribly much different about the change. Hibari's a few years older, but still in a rather compromising situation. Although this time he has Chrome pressed tight against a wall, her legs around his waist, skirt hiked up around her hips. There's also a distinct lack of death surrounding them. Instead it's just breathy little sounds from Chrome, biting her lip in an attempt to keep silent as possible, their hips working together. Her sounds are occasionally cut off when Hibari steals her into another kiss and grinds her further up against the wall.
The memory fades to black and sound returns before a visual, breathy sighs and quiet moans, the creak of furniture, the memory finally beginning to focus.
The scene is... rather intriguing. Mukuro sits in a chair on the opposite side of the table, wrists bound behind his back with a rather familiar black tie. It's obvious he could break it if he so chose, but for some reason, he simply bides his time, looking rather entertained by the scene before him; which is where the noises are coming from. Chrome is sprawled out across what appears to be a kitchen table, face flushed, sweat from physical exertion causing her bangs to stick to her forehead, matted down. Occasionally she writhes, entire body convulsing down towards what's obviously causing this; other times, he single eye will open, pupil blown wide as she stares at Mukuro who does nothing but watch.
Her dress is bunched up to her hips, one hand having fallen from her mouth where she once attempted to muffle any moan or whimper. Mukuro's eyes, demanding, made her think twice about her choice in keeping quiet. The perpetrator of these noises that Chrome is finding herself make all too involuntarily is crouched before the table between her legs, one hand moving up from holding a handful of her dress to palm ones of her breasts, thumb flicking over a clothed nipple. Chrome whines out Hibari's name when his tongue rolls across that nub of nerves just the right way, and the dream ends almost immediately, going black without fading.
It snaps straight back again, like opening ones eyes after a good nights rest, no need to wait for the vision to focus.
Hibari stands on the lawn behind a rather large house, the Vongola flag flying on a pole a few meters away. Tsuna walks beside him, a few inches onto his height, voice deeper, but still the same care-free tone. Hibari, for once, looks visibly relaxed as they walk in stride. The conversation is quiet, like hands have been placed over Hibari's ears while Tsuna speaks. There's a 'thank you' and the mention of 'training', but nothing else is quite discernible in the conversation. Hibari makes quiet noises of acknowledgment, but doesn't say much of anything. It continues for a while, walking the length of the extensive back yard more than twice; sometimes there's silence, others are filled with Tsuna confiding in his Cloud Guardian.
Eventually the sound fades further until only Tsuna's lips are moving, Hibari nodding in response to questions that are posed.
The scene fades soon after; not to black, merely changing into something different.
Scenery in this should be more familiar; the view is of Kannagara itself, Hibari sitting on the rooftop of a house. This is no memory; it's nigh impossible. For it's the only house for miles, only overgrown grass and oddly spotted trees in the surrounding area. But the feeling of familiarity is there, the horizon is one that many see in the brief morning hours of the sun in Kannagara. But that's all that is recognizable, for Hibari's subconscious has supplied the rest.
He leans back, sprawling out on the roof and looking up into the clear sky. The warmth of the sun makes it simply too easy to drift off; enjoying one of his afternoon naps that he's still too fond of as an adult.
The sound of footsteps wake him from his rare moment of relaxation, and Hibari immediately closes a hand around one of his tonfas. The most unsettling part, though, is not the fact that he's woken up on the roof of Namimori middle -- rather than on the roof of the house in Kannagara -- but rather who the footsteps belong to. Crossing the roof and rather gracelessly dropping down to sit beside Hibari, is Fran.
Irritated at being woken up so abruptly from a clearly pleasant nap under the warm afternoon sun, Hibari drops his tonfa. Instead of the usual threat -- I should bite you to death for disturbing my nap -- he reaches up to grip the front of Fran's Varia jacket and drag him down. He does so enjoy indirectly taking things from Mukuro, after all. Their breathing mingles for the briefest of moments before Hibari tugs him even further but-
Before the distance can be closed completely, Hibari sits bolt up on the grass, eyes wide. He tugs his tie loose, swallowing hard, making an attempt to shrug off whatever the hell he just dreamed about. Memories were fine, but subconscious thoughts about Mist people he barely knew were most certainly not. ]
[ The dream starts out, just like ones Hibari has had many times before; overlooking Namimori from the top of the Middle School building. He's young; still a teenager, though dressed as he does in the future, suit and tie. He has a suitcase at his side, boarding pass in his left hand. It's like goodbye yet not at the same time. Hibari knows he'll be returning, for Namimori is his territory and no others are allowed there. But Italy calls, and so does forming the Foundation, so leaving is the only chance he has.
But the feeling of pure loss hangs heavy in the air and in his chest, because even if Hibari holds no attachment to people, Namimori is a different story.
His cell phone rings, a reminder of the plane departure, and Hibari retrieves his suitcase before leaving the roof. It isn't goodbye, but it certainly feels like one.
The dream shifts then, a flicker in his mind that takes longer than it should to focus.
An end of a mission, Chrome packing her suitcase on the other side of the room. Hibari is perched on one of the chairs, flipping over notes that look like scribbles. He knows Chrome will take them later, write them out properly to add with her own report on the mission. Hibari stands, checking his cell phone for messages and missed calls. He doesn't get a chance, because the shift in the room is easy to feel and without a second lost on him, Hibari pulls out his tonfas to deflect a direct hit to his throat from the trident.
The thrill of the oncoming fight runs through him, for Rokudo Mukuro never disappoints when he takes over for Chrome.
Another flicker, and the dream changes once again, taking quite some time to focus through the mist and dust that's still working on settling, leaving chaos and death in its wake.
There are bodies everywhere, surrounding a pair on both sides, two well-built bodies back to back while taking in the scene around them. Their own handiwork. It's only a split second later that they both lunge away before returning, metal hitting metal, tonfa grinding against trident; they part, only to connect again. It happens every time, one reading the others movement, attacking and reacting in perfect unison, one gaining no more ground than the other. It's a power exchange, a face off with no real malice, even if the killing intent radiates through the air. Only after another dozen exchanges are made do they stop where they started, tonfa once again meeting trident.
It's only when Hibari actually smirks that their mouths crash together into a bruising kiss, all tongues and teeth and no sentiment what so ever.
The dream flickers then, bleeds into another scene like it's not something Hibari wants to remember, even while dreaming.
Except that there's not too terribly much different about the change. Hibari's a few years older, but still in a rather compromising situation. Although this time he has Chrome pressed tight against a wall, her legs around his waist, skirt hiked up around her hips. There's also a distinct lack of death surrounding them. Instead it's just breathy little sounds from Chrome, biting her lip in an attempt to keep silent as possible, their hips working together. Her sounds are occasionally cut off when Hibari steals her into another kiss and grinds her further up against the wall.
The memory fades to black and sound returns before a visual, breathy sighs and quiet moans, the creak of furniture, the memory finally beginning to focus.
The scene is... rather intriguing. Mukuro sits in a chair on the opposite side of the table, wrists bound behind his back with a rather familiar black tie. It's obvious he could break it if he so chose, but for some reason, he simply bides his time, looking rather entertained by the scene before him; which is where the noises are coming from. Chrome is sprawled out across what appears to be a kitchen table, face flushed, sweat from physical exertion causing her bangs to stick to her forehead, matted down. Occasionally she writhes, entire body convulsing down towards what's obviously causing this; other times, he single eye will open, pupil blown wide as she stares at Mukuro who does nothing but watch.
Her dress is bunched up to her hips, one hand having fallen from her mouth where she once attempted to muffle any moan or whimper. Mukuro's eyes, demanding, made her think twice about her choice in keeping quiet. The perpetrator of these noises that Chrome is finding herself make all too involuntarily is crouched before the table between her legs, one hand moving up from holding a handful of her dress to palm ones of her breasts, thumb flicking over a clothed nipple. Chrome whines out Hibari's name when his tongue rolls across that nub of nerves just the right way, and the dream ends almost immediately, going black without fading.
It snaps straight back again, like opening ones eyes after a good nights rest, no need to wait for the vision to focus.
Hibari stands on the lawn behind a rather large house, the Vongola flag flying on a pole a few meters away. Tsuna walks beside him, a few inches onto his height, voice deeper, but still the same care-free tone. Hibari, for once, looks visibly relaxed as they walk in stride. The conversation is quiet, like hands have been placed over Hibari's ears while Tsuna speaks. There's a 'thank you' and the mention of 'training', but nothing else is quite discernible in the conversation. Hibari makes quiet noises of acknowledgment, but doesn't say much of anything. It continues for a while, walking the length of the extensive back yard more than twice; sometimes there's silence, others are filled with Tsuna confiding in his Cloud Guardian.
Eventually the sound fades further until only Tsuna's lips are moving, Hibari nodding in response to questions that are posed.
The scene fades soon after; not to black, merely changing into something different.
Scenery in this should be more familiar; the view is of Kannagara itself, Hibari sitting on the rooftop of a house. This is no memory; it's nigh impossible. For it's the only house for miles, only overgrown grass and oddly spotted trees in the surrounding area. But the feeling of familiarity is there, the horizon is one that many see in the brief morning hours of the sun in Kannagara. But that's all that is recognizable, for Hibari's subconscious has supplied the rest.
He leans back, sprawling out on the roof and looking up into the clear sky. The warmth of the sun makes it simply too easy to drift off; enjoying one of his afternoon naps that he's still too fond of as an adult.
The sound of footsteps wake him from his rare moment of relaxation, and Hibari immediately closes a hand around one of his tonfas. The most unsettling part, though, is not the fact that he's woken up on the roof of Namimori middle -- rather than on the roof of the house in Kannagara -- but rather who the footsteps belong to. Crossing the roof and rather gracelessly dropping down to sit beside Hibari, is Fran.
Irritated at being woken up so abruptly from a clearly pleasant nap under the warm afternoon sun, Hibari drops his tonfa. Instead of the usual threat -- I should bite you to death for disturbing my nap -- he reaches up to grip the front of Fran's Varia jacket and drag him down. He does so enjoy indirectly taking things from Mukuro, after all. Their breathing mingles for the briefest of moments before Hibari tugs him even further but-
Before the distance can be closed completely, Hibari sits bolt up on the grass, eyes wide. He tugs his tie loose, swallowing hard, making an attempt to shrug off whatever the hell he just dreamed about. Memories were fine, but subconscious thoughts about Mist people he barely knew were most certainly not. ]