Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Sasugawa Kyoko, Miura Haru, I-Pin, Bianchi.
The tip of a white shoe stepped out to the room, followed by a flowing trail of silk and lace. She had let down her long purple hair and a simple amethyst tear-shaped pendant hung from her lace collar to dangle between her delicate collarbones, slim shoulders laid bare.
But that was not the reason for the audible gasps that rang through the hallway.
“Chrome-chan!” both her bridemaids rushed up to her, eyes round ; Kyoko and and Haru half-held their mouths in surprise. “Y-your eye!”
The young woman only smiled at them. The third and youngest bridesmaid stepped after her, also smiling - I-pin, the maid-of-honour and only one not asked to step out for just a moment in the midst of her bridal preparations.
Chrome let out a laugh, quiet, serene, the sound of tinkling bells. “It’s only an illusion,” she tapped the side of her face, her eyes crinkling in mirth - both her eyes, two eyes of similar round shape, deepening purple shades and ringed irises. It looked odd, seeing her face so… full after all the years they’d known her with an eyepatch usually dominating the left half of her face.
The for today went unsaid, a single gold band glinting on her finger.
“You look beautiful,” the last member – beautiful, long-haired Bianchi - commented. She stepped off from the wall where she’d been leaning against to observe the action, and striding forward, touched her cheek with fondness.
Coming from the elder woman, whom she’d so admired, Chrome blushed. Her fingers were cool to the touch, in it she read the unspoken
He better be worth it.
It was a threat, it was protectiveness and she appreciated it all the more.
More reassuring than her own returning touch to the arm then were the soft smiles of both bride and groom later as, ceremony finished, they stepped out into the golden sunlight and falling flower-petals.
Hands twined together, there was only sheer bliss writ all over their features.
Chraracters: TYL!Chrome Dokuro, TYE!I-Pin.
“Ipin-chan?” she called out.
The little round-headed doll-like person tottering down the street a few feet from her turned around. It took a few moments but she did recognize her, eyes thin and narrow, her round head tilting to one side.
Chrome was confused. Why was her friend suddenly her five year old self?
Kneeling down carefully - for she was in a knee-length pencil skirt and heels - and tucking her legs beneath her, she held out her arms slightly. “Ipin-chan?” she asked again, gently.
The little Chinese girl seemed pleasantly surprised by the gesture as, after a moment’s pause, she ran forward to return it. Her thin lips curved into a smile.
Ah, she must have come from a time before she’d befriended her, the thirteen-year old her.
At the tiny, warm hands grasping her own, barely the size of it, the now twenty-three year old woman resisted a fond laugh.
Explanations (and the meeting she herself had just been heading for) be damned, for the young Ipin had been just so unbearably adorable.
Lifting up her best friend - if a bit de-aged - she smiled.
“Do you want to go get some ice cream, Ipin-chan?”
He is used to her coming and going.
The years go by and they have come a long way off from the carefree, immature children they once were. But some things don’t change – like the hand against his chest and the tips of purple strands tickling his face.
He opens his eyes and accepts the kiss, sweet and slow and lingering, and keeps his arm wrapped around her waist even when she pulls away.
Her voice is low, inflections soft – and so he turns his face away the moment he releases her. Her weight lifts from the bed.
She is always too calm and he is too accepting.
He hears the rustle of clothing; sheets pooling to his bare waist as he slowly sits up, staring off to the side.
Outside, the sky is a dark blue fading into light beyond the windows and, in his peripheral view, she is picking up and pulling her stockings back on.
But tomorrow is different.
The bed dips as she leans over him again.
He faces her fully, meets her straight in the eye, one, huge and violet-coloured, face pale and soft and heart-shaped.
His loyalties have been and will always be with Tsuna, with the Vongola.
She must read the sentiments on his own as she abruptly turns away again. His hand trembles but he keeps it clenched into the bedsheets as she swiftly stands up. She does not look back again.
And he has always known where hers lies.
Elastic snaps in her hand, a silver skull dangling from her lithe fingers.
She walks, one step, two.
His name, not quite loud but firm.
He says nothing, eyes lowered to the tendons sticking out in his fists. Never looks up, even as she starts walking again and the door closes behind her and her quiet, padding footsteps slowly fade.
Never realizing before that his spoken name actually meant she’d be back.
Characters/Pairings: Chrome Dokuro, Byakuran Gesso. TYL.
Beautiful things are even more so when they crawl, he’d heard once and Byakuran wondered if it was really true.
Though broken and bleeding, there was still that quiet defiance in the lumniscient darkness of her one huge eye – as it had been since the first day he’d caught her. Such a face was incapable of real intimidation, as she screwed it up into a glare as he cupped her chin, lips pursed mutely.
With a laugh, he threw it away from him again and she sagged against the wall, against her bindings.
Mukuro’s progeny, even if not in the way he’d initially thought, was indeed proving to be quite interesting.
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Sawada Tsuna.
It’s when Boss smiled at her and then moved from her side for the evening, that she started to wonder.
She remembers his crush from adolescence, blooming in bright cherry-red blushes and suddenly too-long legs tripping all over themselves in Sasugawa Kyoko’s presence - so obvious even she herself had to notice.
But he had long since grown from that, she thought as she watched his diplomatic gestures and speech with the leader of an allying family, his shoulders now broadened to snugly fit the gray-coloured mantle settled upon them. And yet, all those years gone by, the space beside him felt strangely empty.
Chrome felt a slight ache in her chest.
With a surge, she swiftly moved forward and, as he turned to face her, pressed her lips to his cheek. He stopped mid-speech and raised a hand to touch it.
The leader behind him looked on bemused, whilst neither registered.
Raising both eyebrows, his lips caught between amusement and surprise, he asked, “What was that for?”
Linking her arm through his other arm, she simply said,
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Sawada Tsuna, Yamamoto Takeshi.
He could’ve sworn those were tears in her eyes. He nudged the person next to him distractedly – who nodded in equally distracted affirmative.
He visibly started as she swung around quite suddenly, her eye shining and her smile blinding, even surrounded by cake crumbs as it was. Her adoration was so tangible he felt like scum for his meager offering, borne of a lunchtime whim nearing a convenient bakery and surrendered only at insistent puppy-dog eyes.
The remains of devastation spread before her on a table, a white plate near sparkling save that slight smear of chocolate buttercream at the corners and a fork laid across it, hastily bent prongs barely visible.
“She’s going to get a cavity again,” his colleague murmured in awe.
“Please, I can’t stand the lies anymore.”
His laughter faded as she approached him.
She pressed a hand to his chest, directly above his beating heart, and his smile faltered.
She searched his eyes, searched his face and he was quiet, the careful pokerface beneath the cheerful exterior breaking in the stretching silence.
There was a reflective sadness in her eyes as she spoke,
“I think I already do enough of that for the both of us.”
“Punching you sounds tempting.”
His face instantly dropped, jaw gaping. Him looking distinctly uncomfortable and repentant now looked like he was going to cry.
“W-wait, anata - you can’t possibly mean that!” he cried after her in increasing despair, his husky voice going frighteningly high.
Kyoko shook her head at him as he ran after the violet-haired woman’s retreating back. She hummed and put a hand to her cheek. “Oh dear, Onii-chan’s done it now…” she murmured.
Indeed, it wasn’t often that Chrome got so angry that she threatened domestic violence.