#I’ll just look at him and feel whatever I feel is reflected in his captivating eyes

[tangylemonade]

Tales of melancholic love

~ for Yoon Jeonghan

[the-peak-tmnt]

So Leo sees the world through Raphs or his other brothers eyes right? Does it look normal or is it like fuzzier or blurrier? Or maybe the vision isn't blurry but the comprehension of whats happening blurs in and out a little bit?? I bet Leos perspective of everything happening is so disorientating and sad. Anyway here's a drawing I did. I really like your work!

AHHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!

Holy shit, I love this so much! The colors are amazing, especially with Leo and his shadow against them. And the way he’s boxed in to reflect his captivity…incredible imagery! Raph and Mikey's expressions are just so perfect, too! Just WOW dude! I’m so blown away by your visual interpretation of what Leo is seeing!!!

Thank you so much for the fan art 😭 It’s impossible to express how much it means to me when people are inspired by the story enough to create something. Seriously just so, so, SO rewarding, and it inspires me right back! THANK YOU!

Also, I love this question! I'm absolutely dying to reveal more about how the mental link between the brothers works, and how Leo experiences the world  beyond the place he’s being kept through Raph.

If things go according to plan, we will learn more about this in about 3 to 4 chapters. But I can’t help myself but give a little bit away early since you asked! If you aren’t afraid of some tiny spoilers, I’ll add more below the cut!

SPOILERS (KINDA?)

You totally hit the nail on the head! I literally have the word “disorienting” in my WIP document for a later chapter, because that’s the perfect description of how it feels for Leo at first.

As he continues to develop his skills over time, things become clearer whenever he “tags along” with Raph. He didn’t lie to Raph in Chapter 13 about not being able to hear Raph’s thoughts as clearly as he can when they’re in the dream room together. When Raph is awake and Leo is tagging along, he’s perceiving Raph’s sensory experience more so than his emotional state.

The turtles’ emotional states DO affect the “quality” of the connection, though. It’s implied that Leo’s been experiencing whatever media Raph is watching through the mind link, and that it’s clear enough that Leo can even hear dialogue. That’s because Raph is relaxed and (more or less) content when just hanging out watching YouTube or a movie.

The more unsettled, upset, or distressed Raph is, the less Leo can connect. This is why Leo tells Raph “I couldn’t feel you for a while” in Chapter 6. Raph had a panic attack/dissociative episode after speaking with Splinter, so Leo wasn’t able to connect with him at all. Leo doesn’t understand that’s what happened, though, thinking instead he maybe pushed the limits of their connection too far…

That being said, how everything works could very well change…if Raph ever decides to pick up that book again 😉

PS: I am losing my mind that you included Casey as something Leo saw! Because even though Raph/the reader doesn’t know it yet, Leo is aware that Casey has entered Raph’s life and this is IMPORTANT AHHHHHHH

[iwritewhump]

"I'm never going to let you go" + silk ribbon + intimate whumper + whumper's bed

day fifteen of whumptember

1100 words

warnings: drugging, alcohol, taken into captivity

~

The city lights reflect in the small puddles on the sidewalk. Whumpee keeps an arm linked with Caretaker’s and walks with her as she stumbles clumsily. He thinks back on the night and tries to recount how many drinks she’s had, but can only remember two or three. Her tolerance must have gone down a lot since the last time they went out. 

He shakes his head and slows down, letting Caretaker close the small gap between them. 

She leans against him and sighs contentedly. Wrapping an arm around him and laughing she gasps, “Oh! We should go to that place on eighth street!” 

Whumpee looks down at her and sighs. He helps her stand up straight. “I don’t know, Caretaker, it's been a really long night.” 

“Oh please! I only have a birthday once a year!” she whines and looks up at him. “Just one more place, then we can head home and I’ll be good the rest of the month!” 

Whumpee rolls his eyes playfully and nods. He looks over his shoulder and catches the eye of someone who was at the last two bars they were at. The man ducks his head and takes his phone out, putting it up to his face. Shrugging it off, Whumpee looks ahead and maps out the way to their next destination. 

Caretaker drags him through the door and tries to strut up to the bartender, but ends up tripping over her own feet twice and leaning heavily against the bar. She orders before Whumpee can sit down and the bartender looks at him. 

“You’re with her?” she asks, looking him up and down. 

Whumpee nods and sighs, “How about some water?” 

“And you?” she asks, grabbing a glass. 

“Whatever’s cheapest.” 

In the next moment, there’s a glass in front of him and Caretaker’s leaning against him again. She puts her cheek on his shoulder and looks up at him, “Can I have a sip?” 

Whumpee shakes his head and nudges her cup closer to her, “Have your water first.” 

The stool next to him scrapes on the floor and Whumpee ignores the finger tapping on his shoulder. 

Caretaker whines and reaches for his glass, pushing it farther from her with her fingertips. Whumpee lifts it to his mouth and downs it in one gulp, ignoring the disgusting aftertaste. 

“But it’s my birthday!!” Caretaker says, sitting up and lifting the cup to her face. 

Someone taps Whumpee’s shoulder again and this time, he turns. It’s the same man he’s been seeing all night. 

“Are you following us?” he asks, hand gripping Caretaker’s. 

The man’s brows furrow together and he shakes his head, “Of course not! We’ve been going to the same bars all night, I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed. I think it’s cool so I wanted to tell you.” 

Caretaker looks at him and squeals, “Whumper!” 

“Oh my god, Caretaker?! I didn’t even realize it was you!” the man–Whumper–jumps off his stool and hugs her. 

“Whumpee, this is Whumper! We used to work together, I haven’t seen him in forever!” she pulls away from him and smiles wide, “What have you been up to?” 

Whumpee tries to pay attention to his response, but his head goes fuzzy. He blinks a few times and takes a drink of Caretaker’s water as the two of them chatter. 

He taps Caretaker’s shoulder and swoons, “Hey, I’m not feeling the best, can we head out?” 

She turns to him and her smile falls and turns to concern, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah!” He says, waving dismissively. “I think I’m just…not used to such a cheap drink.” 

Whumper looks at him and tilts his head, “Hey bud, you don’t look too hot, do you have a way to get home?” 

Shaking his head, Whumpee holds onto Caretaker, “We were gonna walk.” 

“Nonsense! I’ll drive you, I’m sober as a judge.” 

Without giving them enough time to refuse, Whumper slings his arms over both of their shoulders and leads them to the door after paying the bartender for Whumpee’s drink. He herds them into his car and buckles Caretaker in the backseat. 

He sets Whumpee down in the passenger seat and hands him a water bottle, “Hopefully this helps, it’s open but I’ve only had a sip out of it.” 

Whumpee twists the cap off and takes a drink, face wrinkling at the taste. Whumper slides into his seat and starts the car. 

“Sorry, I put magnesium in it, I have a deficiency. It takes fucking disgusting though.” 

Whumpee shakes his head weakly and leans against the window, eyes closing slowly. Before he loses consciousness, he feels something cold clasp around his wrist. 

Whumpee blinks awake and groans. His head is throbbing and he can’t think straight. After a few seconds, he tries to raise his hand up to rub his eyes, but his wrist catches and barely lifts off the bed. He pulls his arm, trying to free it but it doesn't give. 

“What the fuck?” He mumbles, lifting his head to look at his hand. 

The bed he’s in isn’t his and it’s not Caretaker’s. It has a metal guard with a thick green ribbon tied to one of the bars. He looks at his wrist and sees the ribbon wrapped around it. His head falls back on the pillow and he exhales, “What the fuck?” 

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to fight his brain fog. Opening his eyes, he looks to his other side and recoils instantly. 

Whumper’s laying next to him, eyes wide open. “You’re awake.” 

Whumpee pulls his free hand close against himself and pulls as far from Whumper as he can. 

Whumper scoots closer and reaches a hand out. “You’re so beautiful when you’re sleeping. So peaceful.” 

He sweeps strands of hair out of Whumpee’s face and his hand lingers on his cheek. “Now I know why Caretaker always spoke so highly of you.” 

Whumpee’s stomach turns and he covers his mouth, “Where is she?” Whumper rolls his eyes and his hand trails down Whumpee’s cheek to his throat and chest, “So protective. I dropped her off at your apartment. She’s safe, sleeping off a massive hangover and a mild sedative that may or may not affect her memory of last night.” 

Whumpee shakes his head and rips his arm up, trying to snap the ribbon. “You need to untie me. I need to check in on her, she’s probably worried out of her mind.” 

Whumper’s lips curl and he spits, “Let her worry. You’ll stay here. I’m never going to let you go.” 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Skinny-dipping (m) | kth

Word count: 1,7K

Pairing: Taehyung x (female) reader 

Genre/AU: Drabble, established relationship, fluff and very light smut

Rating: 18+, minors DNI.

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tags: smut (although it isn’t that graphic) and fluff

Author’s note: I tried to write something short – but it still became longer than I planned, lol. I also wanted to try to focus more on the fluffy side and lighter smut. I hope you like it 🙂

+ @wmyoons made an ask containing AI generated images, and because I was informed that the members do not like the use of AI, I decided to delete the ask. Therefore, I’m making this separate post with only the drabble and no images – I hope this is okay 🙂

+ Also, I’ll make a banner for it when I have assembled my desktop again (I don’t have Photoshop on my laptop).

——-

Perhaps it was the thrill of the unknown that always drew you in, that inexplicable magnetic force that made you say ‘yes’ whenever Taehyung proposed one of his wild ideas. On this particular night, his suggestion sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. “How about a midnight swim in my parents’ pool?” he grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling like stars against the inky canvas of the night sky.

The moon hung low on the horizon, casting a silvery glow over the sprawling estate, turning it into a realm of shadows and secrets. The crickets and cicadas sang a lullaby, their symphony underscored by the gentle rustling of leaves in the cool night breeze. A warm breeze carried the scent of summer flowers as you contemplated Taehyung’s proposal. You hesitated, wondering about the risks and consequences, but the lure of adventure beckoned irresistibly. “You’re insane, Tae,” you murmured, the corners of your lips curling into a conspiratorial smile. “But I’m in.”

Together, you tiptoed through the moonlit garden, the grass cool beneath your bare feet. The path to the pool was dappled with shadows, and the water’s surface seemed to shimmer with secrets. The night held its breath as the two of you stood at the pool’s edge, fully clothed, but with hearts pounding in anticipation.

With a shared glance and a silent understanding, you both took the plunge. The world transformed into a liquid dreamscape as the water swallowed you whole. Moonlight danced on the surface, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashes filled the night air. For a moment, you were weightless and free, wrapped in the cloak of darkness and adventure.

It’s a mystery you’ve often pondered, one that tugs at the strings of your heart and beckons you towards him like a gravitational force. The reason you find yourself caught up in Taehyung’s whirlwind ideas time and time again is a complex blend of emotions that courses through your veins.

Every time he suggests something wild, your heart races, your mind dances with possibilities, and a spark of adventure ignites within your soul. It’s the love you hold for him that’s at the root of it all—a love so profound, it transcends reason and logic.

Taehyung’s enchantment isn’t just confined to his daring propositions; it’s the way he looks at you with those mesmerizing, deep brown eyes. They’re like pools of liquid chocolate, windows to a soul that’s as enigmatic as it is captivating. When he gazes into your eyes, it feels as if he’s unraveling the deepest corners of your heart, exposing your vulnerabilities, and yet, reassuring you that it’s okay to be yourself.

Those eyes hold a magnetic charm, drawing you in with their intensity, making you feel cherished and cherished. They’re the reason you willingly follow him down the rabbit hole of his wild ideas, the reason you’re ready to dive headfirst into the unknown, because in those moments, you feel truly alive.

As you stand there, the water’s surface cool against your skin, you become acutely aware of Taehyung’s intense gaze. His eyes, like molten pools of dark chocolate, bore into your soul, locking you in a mesmerizing embrace. It’s as if the entire world has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of electrifying connection.

The shimmering pool water reflects the moonlight, casting a play of silvery ripples across his features. Every flicker of emotion dances in those piercing eyes, a silent conversation of desire and anticipation. Your heart quickens as he slowly closes the distance, drawing you irresistibly closer to the edge of the pool.

With each step, the tension builds, your breaths coming quicker, matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. It’s a tantalizing dance of attraction, a magnetic pull that neither of you can resist. The sensation of being pinned against the wall of the pool, both by the water’s embrace and Taehyung’s intense gaze, sends shivers of excitement down your spine.

A nervous lump forms in your throat as Taehyung’s towering figure eclipses your view. His remarkable height makes you feel small and vulnerable, like a delicate butterfly pinned against a board. It’s a sensation that sends shivers down your spine, a mixture of trepidation and thrilling anticipation.

As he looms over you, his presence is as formidable as a predator closing in on its prey, and yet, there’s an undeniable allure to the danger. The moonlight bathes his silhouette in an ethereal glow, casting shadows that dance and play across his sculpted features. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, like an invisible tether that holds you in place.

The air around you is charged with a heady mixture of desire and uncertainty, and every breath you take feels like a conscious effort. It’s a moment frozen in time, where you’re caught between the fear of the unknown and the exhilaration of being so close to Taehyung, the enigmatic force that has always drawn you in.

You lock eyes with him, and in that electrifying moment, you find a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within the depths of his gaze. His eyes, like a rich tapestry, are a captivating blend of love, lust, and an insatiable hunger that ignites a fire within your very soul.

His voice, barely above a husky whisper, sends a thrill down your spine as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The air around you seems to crackle with tension, and every heartbeat echoes in your ears. He inches closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath caressing your skin.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, his words like a seductive melody that sets your heart racing.

You meet his intense gaze with a trembling breath, and your voice comes out in a hushed, almost ethereal whisper. “Yes.” With that simple word, the world around you fades into oblivion.

He kisses you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, a fervor and passion that ignites a fire within your very core. His lips, plush and inviting, meld perfectly with yours, creating a seamless connection that defies time and space.

With every fleeting second, the kiss deepens, becoming a dance of desire and longing. His tongue traces the contours of your lips, seeking entry, and you part them willingly, granting him access to the secrets hidden within. As your tongues tangle in a sensual embrace, you taste the lingering sweetness of the chocolate he had indulged in earlier, a deliciously sinful reminder of the shared moments that have brought you to this point.

Electric sparks seem to crackle in the air, and your senses are overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of his scent, the taste of chocolate, and the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and craving more. His voice, low and husky, caresses your ears as he murmurs, “I want you, babe. Can I touch you?”

You feel a surge of desire wash over you, and your eagerness to be close to him mirrors his own desires. You nod eagerly, wanting the same thing he’s asking for but unable to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

His lips curve into a playful smirk, his eyes smoldering with passion as he whispers, “Use your voice, babe.”

The anticipation in the air crackles like electricity, and you finally find your voice, though it quivers with desire as you respond, “Yes.”

“I want you to touch me everywhere,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire, as you twirl playfully in the water. The moonlight dances on the surface, casting a seductive glow over the scene.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, teasing and affectionate. “That’s cute,” he murmurs, his words a caress against your ear before he claims your mouth once more. This time, his kiss is an inferno of passion, a molten dance of tongues and longing that sets your soul on fire.

His hands, warm and insistent, trace a path down your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations through your soaked clothing. Your breath catches in your throat as he cups your breasts, his fingers teasingly tracing the contours, igniting a storm of pleasure beneath the fabric.

Desire courses through your veins like a wildfire, leaving you breathless and craving more. Your body aches with anticipation as you press yourself against him, seeking that electric connection that promises to consume you both.

As if attuned to your every need, he responds with a hunger that matches your own. With a seductive urgency, he lowers his boxers, letting them float weightlessly in the pool. The moonlight catches the droplets of water on his skin, turning them into glistening diamonds that trace the contours of his body.

The cool water cradles your entwined forms, providing a sensual backdrop to your shared exploration. Every touch, every caress, is a symphony of desire that crescendos with each passing second. The sensation of skin against skin, the warmth of your connection, sends shivers of ecstasy down your spine.

He gently spins you around, his fingers deftly sliding your shirt off your body, leaving you bare at the top. He then dives down to pull your underwear off. Your arms and head now rest on the pool top. He comes back up for air and you can feel his dick on your ass as he moves further down, down to your core where you really need him.

He enters without discomfort, probably thanks to the prep he did on you before you got in the pool.

He feels incredible inside, and you moan in pleasure, spurring him on. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your climax and Taehyung is close after, not caring that he doesn’t last long. Because he knows that the night is young.

“Maybe we should consider getting up before my parents come home,” he suggests with a playful glint in his eyes. The thought of their impending return adds an element of mischievous excitement to the situation, making you both giggle like teenagers caught in a forbidden act.

You reluctantly extricate yourself from his embrace, sharing a knowing look that speaks volumes about the bond you share. As you both rise from the water, the memory of this enchanting night lingers, etching itself as another cherished chapter in your memories.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

If you want an angstier prompt/don’t have too many others, how about Callum and Rayla comforting each other in the aftermath of their captivity aboard the Sea Legs?

Oh I am always up for some Finnegrin's Wake-related angst, thank you so much for the prompt!!

Rayla expected Callum to smile when she pulled back from their hug, to see the relief coursing through her body reflected on his face. Instead, his expression was… blank. It sent a jolt of confusion through her before her brain found the explanation. 

Shock. Of course he was in shock, he’d been beaten— and he must have been terrified—

Rayla stood. “I’m going below to get some medical supplies. Finnegrin must have a stash of something that can fix up your face. Not that it needs fixing, it’s still quite handsome, it’s just… well, it looks like it hurts.”

She glanced at Callum, her face hot, but his still countenance didn’t crack. He just nodded.

“…Okay then. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Rayla squeezed his hands and stood, making her way to the stairs that led belowdecks. She had just reached the first step when Callum’s voice stopped her.

“Below? Wait, no— Rayla!”

She shook her head, continuing down the stairs. “It’s really no trouble,” she called back. “I’m sure I can find something.”

“No— wait!”

It was the desperation in his voice that stopped her, a tone far more agonized than that of someone who just wanted to spare her an inconvenience. Did Finnegrin have more crew members down here she wasn’t aware of? Was Callum afraid she’d see what he used to torture him?

A hiss echoed down the dark hall, and Rayla tensed, grabbing her blades. She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the source of the noise. Had Finnegrin tortured Callum with some kind of electric eel?

“Rayla,” Callum hissed. “Just— come back up here. Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of whatever he’s keeping down here, Callum. Whatever it is, it’s never going to hurt you again.”

Another hiss drew her attention back to the hall. Two slithering figures emerged— were they really eels? No… snakes. Snakes with glowing green eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Rayla cut both their heads off in a single motion and turned to Callum, stumbling back when she realized he’d reached the bottom step. He looked from the bodies to Rayla and opened his mouth, and she tensed instinctively, trying to figure out how to respond to whatever he could possibly say. 

But instead, he burst into tears.

Heaving, open-mouthed sobs wracked his entire body as he sank to the floor, crying in a way she hadn’t seen him cry since he had found out his stepfather was dead. The force of it reopened the cut on his lip, the tears coursing down his cheeks mixing with the blood and falling in pink drops to the floor.

“I— know— I— shouldn’t— have—" he gasped between sobs. “I knew the ocean arcanum, I understood that I— I shouldn’t try to control everything— but you were screaming, and screaming, and then you stopped— and I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose you— and that makes me as bad as them, as Claudia and Viren, I know it does, but I—"

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a round of tears that left him no breath to talk.

Rayla expected to feel the insidious, bone-chilling horror she’d felt the last time she’d seen him do this: rip the life from a magical creature in order to give life to a set of chains. She expected the righteous fury of knowing he’d crossed a line he absolutely shouldn’t have. But none of it came. All she could feel was a heaviness settling over her shoulders, her chest, sinking her to the floor beside her mage with an overwhelming sadness— and gratitude.

I’d do anything for you, he’d told her, and he had proven it. This was a person who loved absolutely, who cared about her so profoundly he would carry a guilt this deep forever for her. And yet— the thought didn’t scare her. It wasn’t the same obsessive love that had consumed Claudia, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she desperately searched her mind for the words to make him believe that.

“Callum,” she murmured as she thought, “I just need you to breathe for me. Nice and slow. Can you do that?”

She felt his nod, and took a deep breath to demonstrate, setting a pointed rhythm until she felt Callum’s chest rise and fall to match it.

“Good. Now.” She let him go to place her hands on his shoulders. “How did Claudia react the first time she did dark magic? Do you remember?”

Callum furrowed his brow, clearly confused about why she was asking, but answered in a small voice. “Well, she was sick for a few days.”

“And then?”

“She was… giddy. I remember her dancing all through the halls of the castle, talking about it to anyone who would listen. She was so happy she could do magic, so proud.”

Rayla nodded. “I thought so. And Viren? Did he ever seem unhappy after doing magic?”

“Not that I can recall.”

Rayla squeezed his shoulders. “But you hate it. Yes, you did it, and it was bad— but there isn’t a single part of you that feels empowered by it. That’s what makes you different than them. All of you have done things for love that you regret— but you never once tried to justify it to me.”

Callum let out a long breath and nodded. His head slumped against his chest for a long moment before he raised it again, finally meeting her eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

She let go of his shoulders to shove him lightly. “Well, let’s see. You just saved me and all our friends from an evil pirate. We’ve established that you regret using dark magic and never, ever want to use it if you can help it. Beyond that, you risked your life to find a spell to free my parents even though one of them killed your stepfather, you let me live in your castle for weeks, and you forgave me for being stupid enough to walk out of your life for two years.”

Callum managed a small smile, and Rayla cupped his chin in her hand, drawing his head close enough to rest her forehead on his. 

“We’re good, Callum. You’re good. I promise.”

He let out a long exhale, leaning into her touch. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice stronger.

“That being said,” Rayla said, drawing back, “if you want to make it up to me, you can let me patch up your face.”

“I thought you said it was handsome.”

“And imagine how handsome it’ll be when it isn’t covered in blood.” She stood and offered him her hand.

Callum took it without hesitation, allowing her to pull him to his feet, and finally, he gave her a full smile. 

[menshusband]

Hi hi!! How about 🤝, 💞 and 💖 for whoever you'd like?

Hiiyaa Ghosty ! Thanks for the ask ! <33

I think I’ll have Alastor reply to these :)

🤝 Have your F/O tell the story of how the two of you first met.

“Ah, what an unforgettable day, I must say! I cherish the memory. I was fairly new to hell, though had managed to find my way rather quickly, admittedly. ‘t was a day no different from any other, except for the fact that, unbeknownst to myself, I was about to meet the most splendid soul in all of creation! Ahah!

“But I digress—where was I? Ah, yes. I was peacefully walking my way back from my daily broadcasting, in order to meet up with the charming Rosie, and as I went to check my pocket watch to make sure I was on time—oh dear! It had stopped working! That just wouldn’t have done, don’t you think? And so that is how I came to know about a watchmaker and his rather modest workshop, both having an excellent reputation amongst Cannibal Town.

“After informing my dear Rosie about the inconvenience (the lady also suggested that I checked out the little bug’s workshop!), I soon found myself entering said watch-making place—a rather comforting space, I must admit. Thinking it curious that no one was there when the sign clearly claimed that they were “open”, I rang the bell, and immediately he came zooming from the back-shop.

“Truly a sight for sore eyes, Cecil was—and still is. As he warmly welcomed me and apologised for the brief absence, he pulled up on his head the singular goggle he was working with and ran a hand along his adorable little antennae to fix them. All the while looking incredibly charming, trust my word. I simply could not tear my gaze off of them as they quickly worked through my watch’s insides once I’d told him it was an urgent service.

“Naturally, kind as ever, he offered said urgent service on the house and invited me to come back any time (with some quarters on me next time! Ahah! What a humourous man).

“Much to my dismay, neither that first time, nor ever, I’m afraid, will I learn or understand just how interestingly Cecil’s job works, for his furrowed, focused face while he finds and fixes the problems in the clockworks is much more captivating, entertaining and fascinating than whatever his fingers are busying themselves with.”

💞 Have your F/O tell us about something they love about you that you don't like about yourself.

“Why, gladly! I’m afraid my little bug is self-conscious about some parts of him he should appreciate more.

“For example: his smile, and more specifically, his toothy grins. My darling keeps insisting that his teeth are ‘crooked, too small, unsalvageable and I don’t want to talk about it! ’. I, on the other hand, see his smile for what it is: a blessing. You’d think ‘ but Alastor, how do you, a damned soul, know what a blessing is like? ’; well, my dear, blind reader—because you would certainly recognise when you see one, don’t you agree? :)

“Another thing that ticks Cecil when looking in the mirror, I’ve noticed, is his tummy, alongside the shape of his body. For the first one, I fear the little bug cannot find its fat appreciable—and I must strongly disagree! I do not understand how he believes hugging a quite skinny man such as myself feels better than that beautifully soft body of his!

“As for his body shape—most of you might be aware of the fact that, when alive, my darling was born in the wrong body, and he was bound to put up with it until the day he arrived in hell. When they got here, I’ve been told, they were delighted to see they finally had the perfect body! Flat chest and unaltered, ahehm, nether regions, if you know what I mean. But as he got to catch his reflection in the mirror, he realised with horror that this body, too, had an hourglass shape!

“Seriously speaking, I fear my little bug sees this body type as too feminine for himself. I make sure to remind him whenever he needs that he is a truly comely fellow, and nobody thinks his body resembles that of a woman. Moreover, I always ensure he remembers how absolutely entertaining I find it to run my hands down his sides and all the way to his hips, just to get to see him tense up and shake under my touch evvvvery time, hmhmhm!”

💖 Have your F/O tell us about a hidden quality of yours they love.

“Ooh, a tricky question indeed. Cecil does have many hidden qualities, merely because he is too shy to show them off. A lovely quality itself, their humility. But if I had to pick one of the many, that would potentially be his singing voice, and his passion for music. I myself am fond of music, and admire his dedication when singing in the shower, hehe. I do enjoy myself listening to him playing out his little musicals.”

[its-me-jessi]

I Wish I Were Her PT 6 - Finale

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/N and Hvitserk finally find their way to each other.

Introduction Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Right now?!”, I furrowed my brow at him, “Weren't you about to go somewhere?”

“I still am.”, he kept grinning, “but now with you as my date – come on!”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. Multiple senses were suddenly working at full speed. I could hardly decide on which I should concentrate on most. The woody scent of his perfume filled my nose, the warmth of his touch spread not only through my hand, but throughout my whole body, from my feet all the way up to my cheeks, and my vision was filled with his attractive features, his captivating smile, and his pair of eyes in whose pupils I was reflected.

On our way out, he asked me, "Have you ever played billiards?"

"Let's just say I tried once," I smiled awkwardly and shrugged, "why? Is that what we're going to do tonight?"

"Only if you like. We can also just have a snack, a drink..." he suggested.

"We'll see!", I smirked up at him, as he held the passenger door of his car open for me.

Normally I'm not very keen on trying new things and rarely move out of my comfort zone but with him, I thought to myself as he made his way around his car, it's easier for me and I was even looking forward to whatever he had up his sleeve that evening.

Turning the car keys and simultaneously pressing the button activating the seat heating Hvitserk started driving. "How thoughtful.", I thought, sinking into the warming seat.

Who needs a perfectly planned out date when all that matters is the person you spend the date with. Hvitserk made the very spontaneous date perfect, just the way it was. A billiards and dart bar would not have been my first choice for a date night, but it turned out to be the unthinkable best choice. We had the most delicious but also most spicy cheese nachos thanks to the jalapenos. They must have been harvested directly in hell. Luckily, they had milk there. How on earth could Hvitserk eat that without even making a face, except for the moments when he laughed heartily when I fanned myself or took a big gulp of the milk. "Be honest, it's more me than the nachos, isn't it?", he secretly teased me, and I poked him in the shoulder as I emptied my glass. "Oh, shut up!", I said, followed by a laughter. “But you didn’t deny it!”, he grinned at me.

“Which of you two lovebirds is up for playing billiards?”, one of his friends called out and therefore I got around an answer.

And who would have thought that I would also get along quite well with his friends and not just because they let me win at billiards. But seriously now, I'm really bad at billiards. If Hvitserk hadn't helped me so often, I wouldn't have won even then. Although you could have thought I was doing badly on purpose, just to have Hvitserk close to me, to feel his chest against my back and his hands on mine when he showed me again and again how to hold the billiards cue correctly. Who knows? Everything’s possible. We will never know. 

Either way, at least I could score true at darts, even without help. So, I honestly earned the drink bought by the loser of the round, which happened to be Hvitserk. "Because you distracted me!" he argues, but I argue otherwise. I may or may not have distracted him purposely by giving him the glad eye.

A few hours and drinks later we left the bar. Hvitserk had kindly offered to drive me home. I did not drink much, however, to get my car and drive myself was too risky at that point. I would go to pick up my car first thing tomorrow, until then it was well kept in front of Ivar and Hvitserk's apartment. 

And I was definitely in safe hands, too. I felt so comfortable with him, especially here in his arms, enclosed in what was intended to be a it’s-been-a-great-evening-I’ll-see-you-around-hug.

“Um, well…”, he loosened his embrace, "I guess I'll see you...."

“Actually…”, I started. Standing there, feeling like my heart is about to jump out of my chest, I realized I didn't want the evening to be over yet and most of all I didn't want him to leave just yet.

“Would you like to come in for coffee... or something?”, I asked, hoping the offer wouldn't come across weird.

“If you don't mind.”, he smiled down at me, starring directly into my eyes, “I’d actually love to… come in for a coffee or something.” And there he went teasing me again, didn't he?

“Come on in!”, I said, opening the door to my small apartment, and simultaneously reaching around the corner, turning the light on.

“Make yourself at home!”, I said gesturing to the suede couch, “I'll get us coffee.”

While I waited for the coffee maker to warm up, I heard Hvitserk walking through the living room, stopping here and there, then moving on. He was probably interested in all the embarrassing photos that hung on my walls and adorned my dressers. "Damn, I should have left the lights off," I joked to myself. 

Distracted by the loud sound of grinding coffee beans, I didn't notice Hvitserk joining me in the kitchen. I noticed him only when he turned my head to him and kissed me unexpectedly.

Completely caught off guard, I could hardly react, as he already loosened the kiss again. “I’m sorry, I just felt the urge to do it.”, he explained.

I grinned up to him like a Cheshire cat. “Fine by me.”, I said, “to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”

His lips twisted into a smirk before he lowered his hands to my hips, pulling me against him, granting my wish. Again. And again. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy and I felt intoxicated.

He lifted me onto the kitchen counter and his lips worked wonders on my lips and on every part of my skin he could possibly reach at the moment.

"What about the coffee?", I asked breathing out.

“I don't want coffee.", he answered plainly, “All I want is you!” And that I gave him willingly.

When I woke up the next morning, under the warming blanket, nestled against Hvitserk's chest and enclosed in his arms I couldn’t feel any happier.

Slowly and gently, as not to wake him, I looked up at him and thought: “I no longer wish to be her. I am exactly where I belong. Right here. With him by my side.”

Thank you so so soo much for reading. Really, I am so grateful for you reading my stories. I really appreciate it and I don't take it for granted. 💚😇 I really hope you enjoyed reading the last part of “I Wish I Were Her”. Feel free to leave any kind of feedback. 😊

Have a good start into the new year!!🎉

Tagged: @ecarroll1978​ @istorkyou​

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

Skylight: Chapter 4

1.5k words. Hawks and an OC (Not Romantic!) Fluff with some angst, Found family sort of. Content Warnings: Cursing, isolation, mentions of abuse, blood-letting, let me know if I missed any

Summary: Keigo finds out what exactly has been happening to the kid.

A/N: Hey, another update! I'm probably going to try and get the rest of the fic up today, since I'm thinking about it. I'm also going to go back and change the summaries to reflect the chapter content, that'll be fun.

Whenever Keigo visited after that he brought a few books with him, mostly children’s books to help preschoolers learn sign language. The kid, he found quickly, couldn’t read. They stared at the hiragana the same way he remembered looking at English letters when the Commission had taught him. So he would quietly sound out the words for them, then sign the word. It was a learning exercise for the both of them, and the two of them were soon able to hold short, simple conversations.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am good. How are you, Keigo?”

“I’m fine. It’s cold outside.

“It is cold here. The nest is warm. Keigo, you will follow me.”

The kid’s nest was indeed warm, he found out. Despite being crafted mostly from thin, ratty blankets, the thick one he’d got at the start of winter did a lot to insulate it, and the clothes he’d brought before lent the thing some extra structure.

It was in a different place every time the kid offered to bring him to it. He suspected they just wanted him to know where they were, in case they didn’t respond. He was glad they did come early spring.

The recording devices had picked up on the sounds from whatever happened before the kid got fresh bandages, which had happened regularly, every two weeks or so, throughout the winter. It was a lot of screaming from the kid, a lot of cursing from the man holding them captive, and the occasional word from a third person, younger than the man. This new person, a buyer of some variety it seemed, sounded raspy, and he spoke softly. The only reason Hawks knew he was a client was that the man would respond occasionally that he’d “get his product once this little rat held the fuck still.”

Whatever it was they were doing, it left the kid exhausted after. Exhausted enough that, in the early weeks of spring, Keigo had to search the attic for them. He’d long since become accustomed to avoiding the creaking on the attic floor, following the kid’s movements as they played with his feathers and led him around the dark room.

He found them curled up on the floor. The kid was pale, like they normally were when the bandages were changed. Except there were no bandages this time. The kid was sprawled out, arms extended to show pockmarks up and down the inside of their arms. They were concentrated near their wrists and elbows, but there were some in other places. There was some bloody tubing nearby. One end was attached to a large needle, the other held what looked like a screw top, a few empty vials nearby that looked like they would fit on.

The kid was heaving for breath, eyes hardly open enough to scan the room as he got closer. He tried to sign to them, but they didn’t seem like they could see properly.

“Kid, what happened?” he whispered.

Slowly, shaking as they did, the kid raised one hand to tap their other arm, wincing as they did. Then they traced their finger along their bottom lip.

“Arm is red.” That didn’t make sense. He knew their arm was red. He could see it, some of the pockmarks were leaking blood still.

And there was tubing and empty vials right next to him.

“Are they taking your blood?” His kid just laid still. They were still breathing, labored and slow, but they didn’t move otherwise. “Dammit. Just… stay here, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

Keigo tucked a feather into the kid’s shirt, all the way beneath them so it wouldn’t be found easily, then quietly strode towards the skylight. He made it out right as he heard the attic door open.

He listened through his feather as he flew, trying to remember what foods the nurses in hospitals recommended him when he’d lost a lot of blood. The man knelt down, berating the kid as he pulled on them. They whimpered and he snarled at them to shut up before going back to whispered words.

“It would go so much easier for you if you would just hold still.”

“You brought this on yourself, you understand me?”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“Might need to tie you down tighter next time if you don’t behave.”

“You’re always too damn loud. Hurts my fucking ears, you stupid brat.”

There was a grocery store nearby, and Hawks frantically searched through the shelves for anything with iron in it that was ready to eat. He grabbed a large container of raisins and an American brand of cereal that looked bland but had a decent amount of iron in it. He grabbed two water bottles as well, paid, and left before anyone could try and slow him down, feeling as the kid got up and moved somewhere softer. The man had left the attic by that point, and with no car in front of the house Hawks figured that he’d left. He dropped through the skylight, walking as quickly as he could, considering the creaks, towards the nest where his kid now lay. Their arms had been bandaged now, but with all the marks it couldn’t have been doing too much good. He could feel that they were still breathing, which was a small relief. Near the door out of the attic was a cold steak, left whole on a paper plate.

“I’m back. I brought some food.” The kid lolled their head towards his voice, and he knelt down as close as he could. They shied away at first, but reached out and grabbed his coat. He waited for them to let go, but their weak grip remained. Slowly, he opened the raisins and handed some of them to the kid. The arm not holding him didn’t move.

“Please, you have to eat. You’ll feel better, I promise, just please take a bite.” The kid stayed still. Their eyes drifted towards the food in his hand, but they made no other move. God, how much had they taken from this kid?

He slowly reached for his kid’s head. He opened their mouth as gently as he could manage, though they tried to pull away.

“It’s alright,” he said, speaking the way one might speak to an injured animal, low and even. It was enough to calm them a little, and they weren’t pulling as hard. “I’m trying to help. I need you to eat this, okay? Please, just…” He didn’t know what he was asking them for. Not to bite him? To eat? To be alright?

He was able to open their mouth and place a few raisins in. As soon as he let go they pulled their head slightly away. There was a long minute as they chewed the raisins, then swallowed, before they turned their head back towards Keigo and opened their mouth.

“Heh. Just like a little bird, huh?” He placed a few more raisins in their mouth, and they ate them just as slowly as the first.

He stayed with them for an hour, most of the time spent feeding them slowly. By the end they were leaning up and feeding themselves, shoveling handfuls of raisins and cereal into their mouth. He thanked God that the cereal was dry enough that they had to slow down to chew it, or he was certain they would have choked.

He handed them one of the waters, and they chugged it down while he used a feather to cut the steak into smaller pieces. He didn’t trust that they wouldn’t try to shove too much in their mouth and choke. It was the only time he’d seen food up there, and he was sure that his kid was already starving, even with the snacks he snuck in. He’d have to start doing that more often.

”Will you be alright?” he asked. He didn’t want to leave them alone here, not with what he knew.”

“Yes. Things do not feel pain.” They signed it like a mantra, like if they just said it enough it would become true.

“You aren’t a thing.” And then it hit him, plain as day.

“Seijin.” The kid glanced at him, and he signed it while he spoke. “Seijin. Your name.”

“Things do not have names.” Keigo was going to rip the man holding his kid to pieces when he got the chance. He didn’t even want to know what it had taken for this kid, for Seijin, to think of themself as less than human.

“You aren’t a thing. And I’m giving you a name, so you can’t be a thing.” The kid considered that, then shakily copied the signs he’d made for their name.

“Seijin. I am Seijin.” A smile started on their face, breaking into a grin as they signed their name over and over again. They noticed as he stood, letting out a short, high coo.

He signed that he was leaving, and they waved back before turning to the steak, shoving one piece into their mouth and then continuing to sign their name. Keigo grabbed the remains of the food he brought and the last recording device and left.

[elysicnxficlds]

Vihaan’s heart raced as he processed Ishita’s words. He couldn’t believe she was giving him another chance. It felt surreal, like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. All their past baggage and divorce disappeared in this moment. He found himself transported back to their early days, when everything was new and exciting. “That’s what you want, right? For me to stop? I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. Her teasing smile brought a smile from him. He liked seeing this side of her again. It was such a relief to finally experience this after such a long time. He’d missed her playfulness—the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. It reminded him of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

“I’ll try to stop, I promise. You’re right, I don’t want you to think I’m doubting you too. That’s the last thing I want,” he said seriously. The last thing he wanted was to mess this up again. He’d spent so much time reflecting on their past, on his own shortcomings. He knew he hadn’t always been the best at expressing himself, and it had cost him dearly. But now, he was determined to do better. He looked at her, still blown away that this was happening. The compliment made him feel fantastic in every way. It was like a balm to his soul. “Well, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he replied louder than he perhaps should be talking. “Inside and out.” He meant it. To him, Ishita had always been the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on. But it wasn’t just her physical beauty that captivated him. It was her kindness, her strength, the way she loved their children fiercely. Even through their hardest times, he’d never stopped admiring her.

As she held out the fork, offering him a bite, he leaned in without thinking twice. They locked eyes as he took a bite. The simple act felt incredibly intimate, reminiscent of their early dating days when every touch—every moment felt electric. “Mmm, delicious,” he said. “Though I think the company makes it taste even better.” Over dinner, they engaged in effortless conversation, sharing laughter and exchanging frequent glances. He told her about work, and she filled him in on everything he’d missed out on. It felt normal and good. He found himself relaxing, the tension he’d been carrying for months finally easing. This was how it should be, he thought. This was what he’d been missing. When dessert arrived, he was insistent on splitting a piece of chocolate cake. “Dessert is not dessert if we’re not sharing it,” he said with a smile. “I remembered our first time doing this. I was so nervous I almost dropped the fork. I was scared of messing things up with the most amazing girl I’d ever met.” The memory flooded back, vivid and clear. He’d been a bumbling mess that night, tripping over his words and nearly spilling his drink. But Ishita had found it endearing, laughing at his jokes and putting him at ease. He remembered thinking then that he’d do anything to keep making her laugh like that.

If Ishita was being honest, she'd have been able to tell Vihaan how she truly felt like this was nothing short of a dream as well. After all, who'd have thought the two of them could make it here after so much time had passed? Certainly not her. It was still just so exhilarating to know that the man she'd given her heart to so long ago-clearly still wanted it and more. "Will you?" she asked with a teasing smile before shaking her head, "you can keep being cute—I don't mind." She smiled as she reached for his hand once more, squeezing it and sighing softly. "You do deserve a second chance Vihaan-stop doubting it please. It makes me feel like you're doubting me also." She sighed softly before watching as he processed her words.

It honestly was crazy just how beautiful he was. Vihaan truly was such an incredibly good-looking man. She recalled how it astounded her that he was single when they first met. She did think he was a little nerdy sure but that proved to be an endearing quality to her. The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her, that crookedly perfect smile of his, all of it sent her insides tingling with anticipation and excitement. "I know babe, and I think this time—we know what we can't afford to lose, so we'll do better." She sighed quietly before continuing to try and focus on the food in front of her. His words caught her by surprise as she glanced back up at him, a smile on her lips as she podded, "I might be beautiful but you're the most handsome man around…you know that?" Ishita countered with a wink before digging her fork into her food and holding it out to his mouth. "Try some."

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

[damn-stark]

Final chapter The boy I love

Final chapter of Different light

A/N- I really hope you guys like it

Warning- Angst, talks of death and blood, violence, long chapter! fluff.

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There was a beauty in the strangest things. In tragedy.

Like now for example, the white-blue glimmer from the shield protecting Hogwarts stuck out against the dark night, like stars against the night's dark canvas. Everytime a bright bolt of attack was shot from every Death-eater and hit the shield was breathtaking.

It was bad feeling that way, you recognized that, but you couldn’t help but feel so captivated. Perhaps it was just a trick your mind was playing so you wouldn’t let your guilt cripple you, or maybe you were drowning in an ignorance bliss, but whatever it was worked. Because at this very moment that you stood on the cliff behind Voldemort, and surrounded by Death-eaters, and an army of followers, you felt no ounce of the sadness, guilt, or disloyalty.

The shield was suddenly struck down by a powerful, angry driven counterattack from Voldemort, and all you could feel was relief and awe-struck while you watched the shield come crashing down.

“It’s time,” Draco murmured beside you. “The dark-lord disapparated, it’s time.”

Breaking from your stupor, you turn your head to meet his eyes reflecting the bright crashing shield, and a fear he was failing to hide. “Right. Good luck.”

Draco blinks rapidly and his face contorts before he spats, “what? You’re not coming with me?”

Your eyes flicker to the castle as the shield no longer glimmering against the night, signifying that it was completely down and the path to the school was free. Once everyone realized that, it sent a frenzy that caused everyone to set off to the school by foot, flying the skies, or apparating to the grounds, whilst you stayed in place for a few lingering seconds more to reply to your brother in an unrecognizable tone. “No. We have our separate missions, I have to fetch the Diadem.”

Draco’s expression turns to a scowl and he scoffs. “You don’t even know where it is.”

“I have an idea where to go.” You assure him.

Draco steps back and shares a moment of silence before noticing how your lips twitch, but he didn’t know if it was to smile or frown. He was going to go without saying a word, but he needed to reassure you. “Fine. I’ll meet you there then. I’m sure we’ll cross paths with your boyfriend. You’ll need the help. Afterall he has something of mine I need back.”

Finally you let your lips turn to a soft smile as you gave him an agreeing nod before you watched him disapparate. After he left you turned to your family who was still accompanying you, and with one single look the three of you set flight to the school.

You were going to separate to go your own different ways once you go to the school, but before you could fly into the courtyard, an unsuspected stunning bolt hit your shoulder and knocked you out of your smoke form and dropped out of the sky. And without hesitation, and knowing she had no wand to protect herself, or to actually use to help you, Narcissa hastily followed you to try and catch you before you hit the ground. Your father caught her sudden actions and followed suit, his own black smoke form flying past her so he could at least grab your hand, or leg, but they were too far and you were falling too fast.

“Y/N!” Narcissa bellowed.

Because of the sudden spell that had hit you, you were trapped in a short haze that threatened to knock you unconscious, but at the sound of your name coming from Narcissa's lips, and the rush of rapidly falling from the sky, you fight the urge and rip your eyes completely open. That’s when you saw your fathers hand out, wanting to grab any part of you he could, but he was too far, you would never be able to reach for him either, so before you could hit the ground, you flipped around in midair and managed to whisper a spell that prevented your fall just inches from the stone bridge.

“Fuck,” you whisper out in a shaky voice. “Fuck.” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and relief washes over you as you swiftly stand on your feet. Yet, the relief you had felt when you were safely on the ground soon turned to fear when you noticed that you were in between dozens of suits of armor. “Oh…fuck.”

Narcissa then lands beside you, whilst your father lands in front of the both of you even if he had no wand to protect himself either—“Y/N,” he muttered, slowly pulling his hand back. “Give me your wand.”

You reach for your wand hidden within your sleeve, but before you could give it to your father, an idea goes off in your head and a devious smirk tugs on your lips. “I have a better idea.” Before either parent could argue against you, you shove past your father to keep him behind you and to stand your ground in front of the dozen stoned suits of armor blocking the way. “Their shields will deflect every spell,” you explain over your shoulder as you open your hands and slowly raise them. “But there's a weakness if you aim right.”

You snap your head around to face the stone guards, and widen your smirk as you point your palms at their heads. “Reducto,” you murmur smugly, seeing bright blue bolts erupt from your hands and crash into each stone guard in front of you. However unlike before, the spell didn’t work in a split second, this time when the bolt of energy hit their heads, it began to crack down their entire bodies like bolts of lightning, basking their entire bodies in the spells bright blue hue before the spell exploded within them and turned them all into ash.

The aftermath was just a wave of bright blue that the three you shielded your eyes from. The path to school was clear after that, and both of your parents couldn’t help but stand completely bewildered and proud. Yet neither spoke on what had happened, they just quietly watched as your figure disappeared from the bridge as you apparate inside the school, in some lonely hall. Since you couldn’t actually appear inside the walls of the room of requirement, you had to apparate nearby. Now the only problem was finding the door.

“Okay,” you exhale as you come to a stop in front of an empty wall. “It should be around here.” You take a step to the side and then stand there to watch for a slight shift. Yet nothing happened. Making you close your eyes and whisper in some desperate hopes the door would appear. “Please. Please. Plea…”

Your words trail off when you catch the sound of the bricks moving. When you open your eyes, doors begin to form on the wall before you. However when they’re complete and you move your hand to throw them open, the doors open by themselves and a blazing heat wave instantly crashes into you, smoke burns your nose and the heat begins to suffocate you.

The feeling to just turn away began to overrun every thought, but your instinct to go in overpowered that. Which is why you slowly began to walk in even if you did worry over the rising flames devouring every single object inside the room.

Nonetheless before you could fully enter the room, the wall of flames ahead of the entrance opened up and Hermione flew out. Upon catching you in the way, she swerves just as you jump to the side, having to think quickly on your feet to swerve Ron with Blaise riding behind him. Seeing them completely caught you by surprise, and left you unaware of Harry and Draco on a third broom flying directly towards you.

When you did catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eyes, you tried to move aside, but they were riding too fast. So as to avoid crashing into you and injuring you, Harry hopped off the broom, but his body collided into yours regardless. The good thing was that at least all you felt was a headache beginning to form alongside a couple of dull aches, but otherwise you seemed fine, and once the daze and the burning feeling on your skin wore off, like a bright beam against a dark night, sat the diadem on the floor in between Harry and you. The moment you snapped your head up, he did too. Now you were both laying down on the floor staring down at each other as neither made the first move.

“Y/N,” Harry whispers slowly, “you need to let me destroy it.”

You narrow your eyes on him and clench your jaw, but don’t move anything else beside that. Draco, Hermione, Blaise nor Ron dared to move either, they froze in the tense silence that you both created.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” you grumble, whilst you let your fingers twitch. “But I can’t fail them, this is the only way.” Before he could talk back to try and persuade you, you throw your hand out and drop your fingers on the Diadem to try to apparate to the end of the hall where Draco was. But right your fingers barely grazed it, so did Harry’s, so instead of apparating alone, his body snapped along with you. Much to your annoyance.

Moreover, the both of you stare into each other’s eyes for another lingering second out of shock more than anything else, and then you surprise him by tugging back. Yet he acts quick and tightens his grip to counterattack with a harsher tug, neither getting the upper hand.

“Harry please,” you try to insist. “If I don’t give to him he’ll…kill me and my family.”

You know that those words were like a stab through his heart, but he couldn’t let you manipulate him, no matter what was on the line. “And if you do, he'll kill many more. Not only that but he will cause chaos and darkness. I can’t…” he pauses and swallows thickly. “I can’t let you take it. I need to destroy it like we destroyed the locket.”

At the sound of his comment you stiffen and your lips twitch. Harry notices that slight reaction twitching on your lips unlike anyone else in the room, and plays with that. “Everything your father risked to get the locket was not done in vain. It’s all done.”

Your lips want to form into a shaky smile as you feel relieved to hear his words, as you feel relieved to know that your father, your actual biological father, could rest peacefully now. His death as unfortunate as it was could be filled with purpose, and Kreacher could live a peaceful life without having to torment himself over his unfinished task—however, no matter how happy you wanted to be, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in that emotion, so you quickly forced yourself to focus on the task in hand.

“I thank you for that,” you remark softly, your eyes averting Harry’s. “But I still can’t let you have this.”

Quickly you think of a spell and discreetly flick your fingers to send Harry flying back to crash to the floor again. Hermione and Ron gasp, but neither go to his aide right away, they’re both stunned and both face you as they turn their wands on you for the first time. Not like they would do a thing since they stood at the other end of the hall.

“Let’s go boys,” you direct at Draco and Blaise, who don’t hesitate to walk over to you and grab one shoulder each so they would be able to disapparate with you.

Before you could leave albeit, you face Harry and smile. “I truly do love you.”

A flash of darkness erases the image of him and his friends, and light snaps you to a different hall much lonelier than the last. Yet it still seemed that he was before you even after you apparated somewhere else, the image of his face was vivid in the back of your eyelids. Out of the guilt that instantly began to torment you from what you did, your mind played cruel tricks that made your heart ache, that made you falter.

The Diadem was ready to be destroyed, Harry could’ve done it and you took it to hand it to the monster you hated, the one that terrified and tormented your family regardless of the loyalty brand on your arms.

It wasn’t too late to take it back?

Yet why was it so easy to take it from him even through the struggle your heart and head fought?

Voldemort could easily kill Lucius and Narcissa, they were close to him, too close for comfort. No matter if they lied, you had to recognize that their intentions, albeit seemed strange, were pure. They had no obligation to take you in, yet they did, regardless of what your father had done to “taint his reputation”. They’re part of the reason why you were moments away from summoning the cruel lord, but the morality that your heart tried to keep strong and wanted to overpower the dark cloud your mind made stronger, held you back.

The mental battle caused physical pain to your head, it was throbbing and aching. It’s as if you were beginning to be torn in two, Draco tried to talk to you, but his voice was a muffled echo. “Y/N, are we really doing this? We can still destroy it?”

“Destroy it?” Blaise exclaimed, his tone heard shaky even through your struggle to focus. “Why would she do that?”

Their’s silence, deafening silence for a moment, but then Draco spoke the unbelievable. “Because it’d be the right thing...” His voice trails off and seconds later his hand grabs your shoulder to spin you around to face him. His blue eyes, and face pleading for reassurance. “Right? Y/N?”

His voice sounds clear, but his question creates a tougher battle—“I…” you shake your head and grab onto your temple. “I don’t know…” you step back and let out a shaky exhale. “What happens if we destroy it? He’ll find out who did it and then he’ll….hurt people.” You began to breathe heavily and quickly felt the headache worsen. “I can’t be the cause of that.” Your eyes sting, and no matter how much you tried to fight it, tears ran down your cheeks. “I'm going to give it to him. I can’t let him kill you, our parents, or you Blaise.”

Said boy averts his gaze for a second before he clenches his fists and lets his eyes flicker back to you. “Whatever choice you make I’ll support you.”

You sniffle and nod with a faint smile on your lips. When you look at Draco you see his own battle in his eyes, it makes him quiet for a second before his eyes focus on you to assures you too. “I’ll follow you too.”

“Okay,” you whisper before wiping away your tears and pulling your sleeve to uncover the Dark mark brand. “I’m going to summon him.” Your hand hovers over the brand, and even though the fight your heart tried to keep up, you pushed your hand closer to your forearm.

However, just as you were about to press your fingers on the brand a sudden crack went off before the three of you, and a single figure stood tall. Your eyes trail up their figure and you quickly recognize Clementine.

“Clementine.” Blaise called in bewilderment, his shoulders falling in relief. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you home?!” He walks towards her to continue demanding answers, but she ignores him.

“Y/N, Harry told me what you want to do,” she glowered. “I won’t let you do it.”

Slowly your hand falls to your side and your eyes narrow. “What do you mean?” You tilt your head slightly and retort. “Are you going to fight me? I’m…your friend.”

Clementine's tough and determined demeanor falters and her eyes avert yours for a fleeting second before she becomes more fired up. “Yes. You are. You’re like a sister to me actually. I love you y/n, but it’s wrong. Don’t you see it?” She steps towards you and uses that you’re struggling furthermore to try and manipulate you. “You’re the one always fighting to be seen differently. To be seen as who you truly are despite what they whisper about you, despite the house you were put in, despite how people saw you because of Lucius' past. You’re a good person y/n, with a good heart, you know giving that diadem to Voldemort is wrong. I mean think about Harry—”

You scoff and step away from her with your hand tightly clutching the Diadem. “Harry has nothing to do with my choice. If so I would’ve been at his side right now.”

“Fine, not for Harry. For you. Do this for yourself.” Her voice then becomes menacing so you knew she meant her words. “Don’t make me fight you.”

You sigh deeply and glance at the Diadem in your hand, you feel your grip loosen around it as you think of dropping it to the ground, but then as your eyes slide up to Draco, your hand once again grips the object and your other hand shoots out to shoot out a stunning spell that throws her back.

“I’m sorry,” you remark in a cold tone. “But I have to do it.” Once again you try to disapparate to summon Voldemort somewhere else, but before you could take your brother with you, Clementine counterattacks from the floor. You quickly block her spell and try to redirect it to her, but she swerves and jumps back to her feet.

“I really hope we can continue being friends after this,” she shouts, pushing her brother behind her even against his protests.

You smirk. “We can’t be friends if you kill me.” You wave your hand to shoot a disarming spell, but she blocks it and then thinks quickly by shooting a spell to try and paralyze you for a couple minutes. But soon your hand shoots out and blocks the flash of light, and you continue to step back with Draco.

Since neither of you wanted to hurt one another, the spells weren’t too dangerous, the next round of spells were simply just stunning spells or an attempt to deflect it. No matter what side you both stood on, neither of you could bring yourselves to injure one another. At least not too badly.

Despite that knowledge, you both were determined to win, so in a quick split second decision, you both simultaneously shot out the same blasting curse at one another, causing the bright hues of the blasts to slam into another. At first it seemed like a tied match of will, neither blast moving from the middle as they sparked and cracked, but you were unwilling to lose. So you put more effort into your fight and began to overpower her spell that clashed against yours; her feet began to slide back and her face twisted deeper as she strained herself.

Regardless of her hard efforts though, her colored hot blast was beginning to lose its power, and the powers of yours turned hotter and brighter, basking everyone’s faces in the red sparking hue. You then pulled your arm back and were going to thrust it forward to overpower Clementine, but just as your arm stretched out, your body was suddenly shot aside making the blast from Clementine and you to suddenly extinguish as your body hit the wall.

“What the hell,” you groan as you rub the back of your head and push yourself to your knees. “Ow.” You look up expecting to see Blaise defending his sister, rather you see Draco with his wand pointed in your direction. Realizing it was him leaves you completely stunned. “Draco?” Your eyebrows furrow and you can’t help but blink rapidly in disbelief.

“I’m going to do the right thing for you, for me and everyone else,” his voice trembled just as his wand did. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” He crouches down to swipe the diadem off the ground whilst his wand stays pointed at you. “And I won’t apologize for what I choose to do. After all, is it not you that tells me to do the right thing?”

Without looking away from you, Draco throws the diadem at Clementine, who catches it swiftly. Her eyes meet yours for a second and once she notices your body twitch to get ready to bolt after her, she takes out a basilisk fang from her coat pocket and impales it into the Diadem after she slams it to ground. You try to reach for it, try to prevent its destruction, but all you were left to do was scream in protest before black smoke exploded from the diadem, and a screech hurt everyone’s ears.

Once the dark smoke was gone, and the deafening sound didn’t ring in your ears, you looked up to see the diadem destroyed. “No. No. No!” You cry and stay paralyzed on your knees. “No. Clementine.” You drop your head and begin to cry in your hands. There's a moment of silence after, it's tense at first, someone could cut it with a knife, but as Clementine walks to you and falls on her knees in front of you, the silence is comfortable.

“I promise that you won’t be alone. He won’t take anyone.” Clementine comforts you softly whilst her hand wraps around your shoulders. “I know that you know that this is the right thing to do. Y/N, I can assure you that you can breathe now. You don’t have to go back. I’ll stay with you from now every step of the way. Fight for the right side.”

Your shoulders stop shaking and you manage to stop crying, you knew she was right. Her assurance was touching and it did help, even if you wanted to fight her and search for your parents to run away, you stayed in your same position and chose to stay there so that you could try to fight against Voldemort. Because Draco stopped you to try and change things, and because you deeply wanted to too. Even if it hurt.

“You’ll be okay,” Clementine continued, her hand still soothing you. “We all are.”

Before either of you could stand up Draco hesitantly dropped on his knees in front of you to slowly press his forehead against yours. Blaise stood behind watching awkwardly before he was pulled in the embrace by his sister. He of course tried to squirm away at first, but once he felt your arm, and his sisters around his shoulder, he eased into the group hug.

For a moment all the bad things happening outside disappeared. Just for a moment there was assurance in your small group. For a moment there was peace, the taste of what it would feel like if the war was won and you no longer were tied to the darkness. For a moment all there was, was just you and them. For a moment.

——

“You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now spoke directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you…rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this…I shall kill every last man, woman and child…who tries to conceal you from me.”

“What now?” Blaise asks as the four of you walk out to a hall filling up with wounded students, and adults.

In a worried tone you answer Blaise’s concern. “We need to go to the forbidden forest. We need to pretend that we’re still with them and help him.” You want to glance at those walking at your side but when you do, you come to regret it as you see people’s stares as you walk through the crowd. “We can’t let him face Voldemort.”

You clench your fist and shift your feet to change directions, but Clementine grabs your shoulder and pulls you back.

“You do that and you’ll die. What then?” Her eyes narrow and her voice turns serious. “Harry wouldn't want that.”

“I don’t care,” you remark angrily. “I need to help him. He…” your voice cracks and you can’t let her or the boys notice your watery gaze. “I betrayed him before. I can’t let him die. He can’t. Clementine. He can’t.”

Their silence for a moment, Clementine's hand doesn’t loosen from your shoulder, even as your body moves to leave, she holds her ground before she pulls you in for another hug. “I know you love him. But you know the one thing I like about you two, is that you respect each other’s choices. No matter what, no matter how dangerous things are, you understand one another. Understand him now y/n. Trust him if he chooses to go—”

“Then he can understand my choice to go,” you argue in a quivering voice, “I can’t…I can’t lose him. Please. I just need to tell him I’m-I’m sorry.”

People around you stare at you both, all wondering why you, a Death-eater, were amongst the people fighting on the other side of the war, against your “beloved master”, you saw it in their eyes, the confusion over your crying state. You knew they asked why you weeped and argued about someone that was supposed to be an enemy. Yet they knew nothing about you, or the choice either of you risked making.

“I know,” Clementine assures you, “but you can’t continue helping him if you die. If something happens we continue to fight. I know it’ll hurt, but we have to keep fighting here.”

She was right, deep down you knew she was, but you didn’t want to admit it to your own heart. As you pulled away, your head was overwhelmed with the urge to just go, but as you faced your friend she added words that helped your stay.

“But that’s if something happens, and I know that he’ll win. He’s strong. He’ll win and you’ll see him again. You have nothing to worry about.” She smiles warmly and gives your shoulder one last comforting squeeze before completely pulling away. “Now let’s go find the rest of our friends.”

You wipe your tears and offer her a faint smile. “Right.”

“Are you done crying now?” Draco remarks, making you scoff, but nod before you continue down the hall, averting the stares to reach the doors to the main hall. Albeit as soon as you stepped inside you were met with some unwelcoming students.

“Death-Eaters, and Slytherin associated with them have no business here. Leave or we’ll show you the fate your friends met.” He spats, causing Draco to scoff loudly and get ready to shoot a nasty rebuttal that you stopped in time.

“We’re not here looking for a fight. The battle was called off.” You counter, “even if it wasn’t, look around you. These people…” you swallow thickly after you catch glimpses of dozens of dead bodies fallen as a result of the people you had been a part of not so long ago. You notice the heavily wounded and the ones grieving, and chills run down your spine. “…are tired. Besides, regardless of who we are, you shouldn’t judge us, especially after my friends and brother destroyed a horcrux. We’re on your side. Now,” you push past him and his friends, “excuse us.”

As you walk past them and slowly walk through the hall, there's a heavy tension everyone could feel, silence was filled with some broken sobs and whisperings. You tried to avoid looking at the dead, but no matter how much you tried, your eyes felt magnetized to each and every one of them. And with every body you felt guilt weigh down your heart.

Darkness felt much colder now more than ever. You felt out of place and as if you were the big bad yourself. Yet at the end of the hall there was the sight of relief, George Weasley. His back was turned to you, but you could recognize the back of his head; his bright red hair, his tall and thin figure, his clothes that oftentimes coordinated with Fred’s.

“Look Clementine,” you point to the boy at the end of the hall. “There’s George. Let’s go to him and Fred.” You picked up your pace without waiting if someone would rebuttal, but before you could get much closer Hermione blocked your path, making you stop.

“Hi guys,” she offers a gentle and faint smile. “It’s nice to see you guys are okay, and that you’re here.”

You return her smile and give her shoulder a gentle and assuring squeeze. “I’m happy to see you’re okay too.” You glance at her side to steal a glimpse at Ron. “You too Ron.”

Said boy meets your gaze for a second before he frowns and rips his eyes away. Almost as if it pained him to look at you. It wasn't hard noticing the gesture, but you couldn’t question it because of someone’s call. “Hey! Voldemort and more Death-eaters are walking down the bridge this way.”

You quickly pull your hand from Hermione’s shoulder, and follow her and the others with you out of the hall and to the doors that led to the courtyard. Once you’re welcomed by the cold breeze, and the sight of a battered courtyard is when you see Voldemort, Death-eaters, and your parents behind their lord; their eyes searched for Draco and you amongst the crowd of students and adults all now gathered at the courtyard, it took them sometime but then Narcissa was the first one to lay her eyes on the both of you. She didn’t motion either of you to go to her like you thought she would. At least not yet. She stayed beside Lucius, and stayed attentive to you both.

Bellatrix was right beside her beloved lord and her eyes fell on you too. She, albeit, wasn’t expressing any sort of relief or sign of affection, her gaze was cold and deadly. Even more so as she saw you on the other side—it was easy to avoid her glare though because you didn’t care for her and her spiteful behavior towards you, it was easy to ignore all the death-eaters. Someone who wasn’t hard to avoid was the half-giant Hagrid, or really, the limp body he was carrying.

Their face was turned away from the crowd, but their—his clothes were recognizable, as was his short brown hair. Realizing that you knew who you’d seen wear that brown jacket made your heart sink, and turned the air much colder. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself that it was…him. That it could possibly be Harry, but deep in your heart, you knew the truth. You just didn’t want to face it. You didn’t want to feel the pain of your heart shattering. You couldn’t feel the pain of losing the boy you loved.

Which is why you pretended like you didn’t know. Why you asked first. “Hagrid is carrying someone,” you point out before asking, “who is it? Who is he carrying?”

Voldemort stepped further away from the Death-eaters with Nagini slithering at his side, and an evil smile crept on his pale face before he exclaimed with malicious pride. “Harry Potter…is dead!”

First every single ceased feeling to exist; you couldn’t feel the light cold morning breeze, you couldn’t feel Clementine's hand wrapping around yours when the announcement was shouted from Voldemort’s lips, You couldn’t feel ever part of the pain whilst your heart shattered within your chest, it fell completely numb. You felt completely numb as your world came crashing down. Time felt like it flowed slow until the heavy weight on your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t hold back your cry of pain anymore. You couldn’t stay numb to the heartbreak.

“No! No! No!” You cried loudly, whilst your feet tried to run forward towards Harry in Hagrid's arms. However you didn’t get past the stairs before Draco and Blaise held you back. “No, let me go to him,” you fought in broken sobs, but they kept their hold strong and ended up falling on their knees along with you.

“Silence!” Voldemort exclaimed as he shot out a spell to the sky. “Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth,” he continued whilst he walked forward and directs the crowd, “you put your faith in me.” He turns away and strides to the Death-eaters to continue to gloat with a cruel laugh. “Harry Potter is dead!” He turns again and spreads his arms out. “And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us. Or die.”

Silence falls over the crowd, not even a single step forward on the stone ground breaks it. Voices a few seconds later break it and the attention is easy to focus on those who speak; your parents. “Y/N. Draco,” your father calls.

Eyes shift over to you, you feel the stares, it was evident that they would, but you couldn’t look back, or at either parent as you numbly looked at the ground beneath your knees.

“Draco. Y/N.”

“Draco, y/n,” Narcissa’s voice travels out now. “Come.”

A shift happens beside you and suddenly you feel yourself being lifted to your feet.

“Draco,” Clementine whispers back. “Y/N. Stay. Stay.”

Your brother does glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't argue, or seek your suggestion. You were too out of it, he saw that and made a choice for you both out of fear, pressure. After Harry was gone, what else was there to fight for? So he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him back to Voldemort and your parents. Whilst Clementine stayed with Blaise by her side.

“Ah. Well done, Draco and y/n.” Voldemort praises, “well done.” You feel his hands awkwardly wrapping around the shoulders of you and your brother. You feel his head push forward, and you feel his hissed whisper in your ear. “We’ll talk later about your secret doings.” He knew.

Voldemort let’s you both walk behind him, and Narcissa quickly welcomes you warmly and happily. She pulls your hands apart to grab them herself and take you further back to the crowd, where you watch everything before you as a spectator, feeling as if you were hundreds miles away.

“Well I must say I’d hoped for better,” Voldemort teases Neville as he limps forward, causing most of his followers to laugh at his lame comment. “And who might you be, young man?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

More laughter follows and Voldemort continues in a joking tone. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks—”

“I’d like to say something,” Neville interjects.

“Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.”

“Stand down, Neville.” A friend of his warns.

“People die everyday. Friends, family. Yeah. We lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us. In here ” Neville words slowly pick up your head, and focus your full attention back on the scene. “So’s Fred...”

Your eyebrows slowly furrow at his last comment, you want to pick at his comment for a meaning, but there wasn’t time. You actually didn’t let yourself.

“…and Remus. Tonks. All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will! Because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us. For all of us.” Neville pulls Gryffindors sword out of the hat in his hand and exclaims, “This is not over!”

A thud hits the floor close by, followed by grunting breaking the silence from your side. At first you didn’t want to follow the crowd by looking, but then you heard the gasps and murmurs, you noticed the spark in everyone’s eyes from the crowd in front of you, and you turned your head. That’s when you felt the shards of your heart come together and the spark everyone shared. Light returned to the grim world and a smile tugged on your lips when you saw Harry standing on his two feet with a beating heart.

Without an ounce of hesitation you pulled away from Narcissa and pulled your wand out to throw it to Harry’s empty hands. “Harry!”

Said boy looked at you and swiftly caught your wand to turn and point it at Nagini, and shout, “Confringo!” The spell redirects to a couple Death-eaters behind the snake, and Harry quickly rushes for cover to avoid Voldemort’s explosions. While Voldemort was distracted though, you proceeded to pull away from his side, stopping only when Narcissa called after you.

“Y/N! Stop! What are you doing?!” Her hand tightens around Draco’s. “Let’s go!”

You smile and shake your head. “I’m fighting for the right side. It’s not too late to do the right thing.” Your eyes flicker to Draco, but you didn’t beg him to join you. It was his choice and you couldn’t force him. You just stood to wait for a second.

Nevertheless he didn’t move. Or at least not until after you turned your back and began to head back to Clementine. “Y/N, wait!”

“Draco! Y/N!”

Once you catch Draco fall at your side, you both share a sweet and understanding smile. Neither of you look back, you let yourselves be guided back inside by Harry and the others. “I’ll lure him into the castle. We have to kill the snake.”

“You’ll need this.”

“Neville!”

The moment you peer back to witness the scene going on behind you, all you see is a flash of bright light before catching Neville flying overhead and crashing onto the floor. Things begin to happen quickly after that; Voldemort disapparates with Nagini, Harry follows suit to search for them without saying a word since he was too caught up in his plan, and Death-eaters begin attacking every student they see, it causes you to part ways from your friends and brother.

Fighting them wasn't hard though. The two you fought were cocky, saying that you were nothing but a stupid little school girl. Yes, you did block some spells, so as to avoid being hit, but they left themselves open rather quickly. The one true struggle was when Bellatrix suddenly surprise attacked you by slamming you to the floor. “Ugh. What the—”

“Traitor dad, traitor mother, and,” she scoffs and her face appears over you, showing an evil smirk. “Traitor…” she stomps on your hands so you wouldn't cast a spell. “…you. I’ve always hated you, I told my sister it was a bad idea to take you in, but she has a heart of gold. Took pity on a poor little orphan girl.” She giggles and bends down so her face is next to yours. “But where is she now to save you, Hmm? I’ll tell her that one of your friends killed ya, they didn’t believe your betrayal, hmm.” She points her wand on your chest and tilts her head. “Now you tell my cousin Regulus I said hello, and you welcome for such a happy family reunion.”

Bellatrix grins and is about to part her lips to execute a spell, but as your eyes close to expect a sudden pain that would lead to a quick death, suddenly a bolt of white light hits her back and her body is flung away off you. When you push yourself to your feet, you expect to see Clementine, the twins or Draco, but you're surprised to see your father, Lucius. “What the—”

“Do get up before you get trampled, we have a fight to win.” He offers you his hand, and you hesitantly take it to stand on your feet. “Perhaps you kids are right. Besides, I never did like her.”

A grin slowly spreads on your lips and you give your father a quick tight hug as you share some quiet words only he could hear. “Thank you.”

Lucius stiffens, but slowly he pats your back and presses a kiss on the top of your head. He doesn’t say anything back, he just wasn't one to show affection with either Draco or you. You understood that, and then went on to fight, catching Narcissa with Draco.

The fight after that wasn’t long, Neville ended up killing the snake from what you heard. That action led to Harry ending Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all.

All that was left of Voldemort after was bad memories, and ashes.

“Clementine! Blaise! Are you two okay?” You queried in a panicked voice as you rushed to them sitting on some bleachers.

“Yeah,” Clementine groans, “nothing that can’t be healed. You?” She smiles, her eyes stealing a glance at your family close by, ignoring the curious stares from those around the hall.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “happy.”

“I’m glad,” Clementine coos. “I’m happy for you.” Her eyes then flicker over to a figure slowly making its way to you and her grin turns mischievous. “Let’s meet up tomorrow? After we assure our mother we’re fine.”

“Of course, I’ll be waiting.” You offer her one last smile before turning and spotting Harry at the other end of the hall, his eyes solely focused on you. Instead of letting him make his way to you, you beam at him and let your legs run towards him to meet him halfway. Harry welcomes you with open arms and secures his hold around you, as you do the same with him.

For a moment as you held each other and basked in each other’s comfort, all that existed was just the two of you; the room was nothing but the morning light that shone through the windows, the relief of all of it being over and seeing one another, feeling each other’s warmth. It felt great drowning out the noise without having to worry over a threat. It felt comforting having one another after all that happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter in his ear, “I’m sorry I betray you at the end. I’m sorry Harry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures you sweetly, whilst he begins to caress the back of your neck. “You helped me at the end, that’s all that counts. You were with me. You know I understand your actions before that. I do. There's nothing to forgive.”

“I love you,” you whisper with your voice breaking. “I love you.”

Harry pulls away to be able to face you. “I love you,” smiles, “so much.” He cups your cheeks and pulls you in for a gentle and longing kiss. He’s careful with it, he savors the feeling of your lips against his, he takes his time to make sure that you knew that he missed you, that he did share those feelings he just uttered to you. He made sure you knew that he was happy that you were alive. He didn’t care who watched. He was happy. You were happy.

Pulling away was harder than other times, but now you had time to spare. You could be with another without worrying. You would be together now and nobody would have a say.

“I’m going to find George and Fred, okay?” You whisper against his lips, missing the frown that twitched on his lips. “I’ll try and find you later.”

Harry parts his lips to reveal the truth about Fred, but he stays quiet and lets you find out by George. All he does is let you give him a last peck on the lips before you leave his side in search of George, which wasn’t hard finding him.

Once he saw you, the corner of his lips twitched, and he was quick to return the hug when you got close to embrace him. Unlike Harry though, you felt George’s shoulders shake, he was quick to break down when he was in the comforts of your embrace, he couldn’t hold his grief. But you didn’t captivate why he had gotten so emotional, so fast. You had heard Neville’s comment on the courtyard, but your mind chose to ignore it’s meaning, leaving you clueless to George’s tears.

“George, what's wrong?” You ask as you pull away to meet his eyes.

“Y/N,” he cries, “it’s Fred….he’s—fred. He’s dead.”

Your smile slowly falls, and your happiness begins to dwindle away as does the spark of light in your eyes. You don’t want to believe him, you wanted it to be a joke, a prank, but you knew he wouldn’t joke about that. Which is why you were quickly struck with disbelief, guilt and that heart shattering grief you thought you had been free of feeling. It was such a strong feeling that you couldn’t bear.

Even if it wasn’t your fault, you felt guilty over his death because it had been Death-eaters, the people you had once fought alongside with who killed him. It felt as if it might as well have been you who ended the life of such a good friend, the first friend you made in Hogwarts, your first kiss. Even after you broke up with him, after you became a Death-eater, he remained close to you, he never changed how treated you, or how he saw you. He was your best friend and now he’s gone. You couldn’t handle it.

Thus you began to slowly back pedal towards your family, as you looked at George with sadness and horror.

“I’m so sorry George.” You whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Harry was nearby and he saw how you were. He called to you, but all you did was share a last lingering look before you disapparated from the school with your family, without saying any last words.

.

.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson @swiftlymoniquesblog @spideyyypeter @gsvshsjsbs @accio-prozac @cherriesanwine @kokomaesadie @april-14-blog @prettypinkpeachh @pest-ill-ence @ilovespideyyy @m3ssytrash @hogwarts-babe @yodaboo @rafeyybabyy @itsoakaa @nonamesgame @weird-pale-blonde-person @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lunanargles17 @narcissim-isky @petrelsrose @haroldpotterson @winter-soldier-101

[vannyvancan]

Fluff Naga!Shinsou Oneshot

For the last few days, I've been thinking about how I have a thing for tropes that are very dangerous in concept, but I like to imagine some fluffy/domestic scenario with them.

As if my fanfiction about having an assassin roommate Shinsou wasn't plaguing my mind enough, the naga monster Shinsou somehow warming up to you and treating you more than just a breeding machine just works. There's some angsty potential for sure.

tw for: mentions of dark thoughts

Naga Shinsou comes back to his cavern with you in it one day, only to hear your muffled sobs quiet down as you hear him approach. He doesn't think much of it of course. You are his breedable, but he see's your health declining daily for how you've been.

Even though he brought you meals, and brought you out for several minutes just to drink in the sun. He treated you nothing more than that,

So how do you manage to look worse than yesterday and day before?

After all, even if you do die, he'd just go out his way and find himself another human female. But for now the mating season had passed, and all of your children had scattered and learned to protect the Naga territory Shinsou had owned.

He returns to sleep in his waters, greeting you briefly and leave your form to sleep on surface near the cold water. You'd shiver and try your best to warm up with the soaked nest. Your clothes was safe to say tattered and beyond being called clothes at this point. Curling up, you look at moonlight peeking in the caverns you can't escape from, it's not like you had any choice honestly. You look at the water reflecting it. The deep dark water your monster would dive in to slumber in for the night.

You thought about taking a dive, to end this miserable existence, You figured he'd be there to save you though. When you threw a pebble in one time out of boredom, he'd immediately jump out because of the water surface disturbing him, you received harsh scolding and he grew spiteful for weeks after that.

With not much on your hands, you ended up singing to yourself to sleep, with your tears still drying on your face. It was a habit now that you'd sing, it was a lullaby you've learned when you were still living your life as an ordinary human before he'd capture you. Of course, when you had his kids the time with them was brief before he captured you...

The night passes in hazy, restless sleep like any other. It was the sort of sleep where you liked to think you'd gotten a rest, but deep down you knew it wasn't. It was pointless to sleep, to be honest.

You didn't sing that night.

Nevertheless, you managed to close your eyes and try to think back, back to your happy circle that was slowly fading like a picture book soaked in the merciless cold water. The fading memories now serving you nothing more than a torturing mechanism you couldn't let go off. Nostalgia did an opposite effect on you right now, but at this point you just wanted to feel something, even if you were dying. Trying to remember the warmth on your skin, your semi-sleeping form was interrupted by the droplets of water above you.

Your naga monster Shinsou glared deeply above you.

Your breath hitched at sight, his snake like tail was holding up his human part, arms tenderly hanging on his side. The water dangling on his indigo hair onto your form as the intense yet curious stare stayed, Shinsou was quiet, that was something you knew, but why did he come and see you?

If he wanted to breed you like how he did the first, second and third time, he would of not hesitated to grip you and force your hand.

But he just watched.

"H-hey." You mutter out, gripping the wet straw of the nest to try some weak defense.

"You're not singing." He mumbles.

"S-so what, am I your music box now?" You sighed, curling into yourself.

"Your body temperature dropped frantically in last several days."

"Obviously..." You looked around yourself, wondering how oblivious he must've been. "Besides, don't snakes like warmth too?"

"We can't regulate our temperature. Since its summertime, shade and a lot of water is best option." He slithered around you to find a comfortable position to lay beside you, his tail curled the whole nest and he manages to find a position.

"Right."

"But, that's not why I woke up for."

"Then what is?" You asked meekly, you doubted he wanted to spend a 'quality' time with you. The damage was already done the moment he forced this life on you, wasn't he aware of it? It wasn't like you'd expect from a monster to know though.

But...

"I ask of your permission to sleep beside you."

At the words your head perked up. He asked of your permission? Weren't you his captive, he could do whatever he wanted with you, its not like you had any choice to obey him. Now of all things seemed absurd after all the times he'd used you up. Looking at his tail shifting to other side, he seemed visibly distressed by something, it was as if he tried to find words for what humans liked or not.

"And I'll treat you something good tomorrow, something warm... right?"

"W-why the sudden-"

"I'll let you approach me... for once. Y-you don't have to if you don't want to, I just want to stay here with you."

He lays on his stomach with his tired eyes barely open, his head resting on his hands. You could of guessed he was daydreaming with the way he was gazing at you, it was like he used his own hypnosis skill on himself rather than on you. The thought made you flutter with something unknown.

Then again you were on your guard.

Time passed in silence. he'd mutter occasional reassurance "It's alright, skittish kitten, I don't wish you any harm." It's almost as if he was trying to convince himself he doesn't need your touch, the feeling of your skin where he had so greedily claimed was fading "I'll let you come to me first..."

There was definitely something more he wished to say, but it seems he too felt some feeling growing inside of him.

Seconds turned in minutes, and minutes turned in hours. His eyes fell shut and you were now in presence of a purple naga monster, exposed in his sleepy habitat. Chest raising and falling from his breathing and soft mutter from his dream that slowly crept in his mind. The fluffy tuffs of lavender hair hiding his expression, but you could only guess he kept going on about recent events even in his dream.

Your shivering form shook once more, trying to rub your hands once again you winced for how you don't have many options. You looked at the smooth scales, and shakily stood up on your two feet, tipping toeing your way without making any sound. If he decides to make this into a trap to eat you up... it was a really good one.

But its not as if you, in your depressed state of mind cared if you were alive or not. Anything would be good a this point, any feeling, any touch and warmth was welcoming. Even if it was from a cold blooded beast.

You sat on your knees right beside him. Trying to find a fitting position where you'd be able to cuddle him, ending up figuring you were going to hug his humanoid part you laid down and snuggled at his side, your front turned to him and listening to his soft breathing. Being this close to him you realized how scarred his humanoid skin part was, Shinsou does guard his territory daily, and only to come back to you in his caverns meant how much he trusted you exposing his vulnerable body.

He twitches, and that made you startled for a second, only to realize his smooth tail now touched your back and cuddled you closer to him. "Hmm..." He purrs in his sleep, now turning his sleepy head toward you he tenderly nuzzled into your form. Was he a snake or a cat monster?

The motion stops, and you are now in the circle of his thick figure, sleeping with a giant monster who now, surprisingly- warmed you up.

You felt like singing again.

[complexicn]

A dark hole. Did he mean a black hole? Kitty eyed the envelope in silence, thinking only of what she had missed in that lonesome moment of reflection before she met his eye, the twinkling kindness in his gaze an intoxication that left her grin to etch itself into her face. She had somewhat suspected his feelings, his affection never quite shielded from her attention, but she had always believed that he deserved someone more willing to reciprocate it — for she did, of course she did, she looked at him whenever he looked away and more often that not hovered her thumb over his display name in her cell, moments away from calling him just to hear his voice when she woke up in those night time sweats. Mostly she thought herself broken beyond repair, but sometimes she liked to believe that she was too busy searching for her brother to entertain the idea of romance — it was easier to deny the obvious, she had told herself, as she muffled a snort of amusement behind her balled up fist.

“Okay sure I’ll take it, Scully, in fact I look forward to the dedication, perhaps it’ll even make me swoon,” Kitty teased, for though some inch of her yearned to believe in the wonders that captivated Jude’s mind, she couldn't help but sincerely devote herself to fact. Where had her brother and his friends disappeared that lost evening? Who was sending those invitations without claim? Such questions and more filled her head like a heavy fog, leaving her nearly adrift in an ocean without a paddle — but to be with Jude was at least a comfort that could’ve evaded her, as she followed his lead with the unfolding of the envelope, raising her gaze only to play with the idea of what he described — not that she thought too deeply on the matter of falling to her knees before him, because that was obvious within itself, wasn’t it? Fighting the grin from growing too large across her face, Kitty looked back to the papers and watched as Jude pointed out a pretty useless document.

“And you can make anything out of it? Well done you, all I see is trash,” Kitty answered in her trademark pessimism before he mentioned the previously hinted invitation. To Kitty, it seemed clear that whatever they were due to do to the town, that she would be working that evening or any night hence, as was her station in life. She couldn’t really imagine going, or entertaining the notion in the first place… but something about it intrigued her, as if she could see something predestined, as if she could yet hear the rumblings of her brother’s lost voice coaxing her forth. With the shrug of her shoulders, she tried her best to play it down before finally giving in to the biting nip of her curiosity, that led her to put her hand on his in order to stop his trailing thoughts.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jude. I mean it.”

"It could be Kitty. Or a key to something -- I'm still convinced there's a dark hole in the middle of this town." Jude's revelation agreed with Kitty's features mightily -- her eyes twinkled gleefully, her lips unable to hide the allurement his great find brought. If she could at all suspect his heart was an instrument of humiliation in her hands, she made no acknowledgement. "What, do you think I have another Mulder tucked away in my back pocket?" For Kitty was Mulder, surely; that spiteful hag named reason sat gracefully upon her shoulder, guiding her thoughts with a deft hand. Had Jude lacked her clearness of thought, he would gladly pine away in melancholy; in turn, he fashioned himself the perfect figure to maintain the ferment of her spirit. "For being the best guinea pig, I promise my devotion to you in my forthcoming book about this will be incredibly long and tear-jerking." Jude followed Kitty without need of command, a happy shepherd heading the call of an earth-bound seraph. Quietly he observed her movements, watching an array of documents spread across the surface, cipher's and maps writhing beneath their gazes. No calamity wounded Jude as greatly as the false curves of Helltown laid bare before him; the twisted spine of his town promising to leave him as unnerved as before. He followed her movements further, his focus appallingly acute -- that feeling once more piercing through his heart. "When we find the secrets to this town being built on a former witching ground, I will buy you lunch and you will kiss my hands and worship me as the almighty Jude. " Naturally Jude would defend himself from the imputation his theories were too fantastic (they often were) but he derived delight from the knowledge his words would surely invoke a harsh whack from Kitty; deserved, but a token of affection all the same. "This is what I was looking for -- even if its just tatters." He tapped a finger against a redacted, eroded document detailing the founding of St. Michael's. "I know it seems like a useless relic, but I can work with this. But with this, Kitty I have to ask -- did you get that message?"

[aine-ayase]

You were nervous. Your hands clamped up while you stare at your reflection.

At the corner of your eyes, you see your best friend xingqiu quietly reading a book as usual.

"Xingqiu?" he hummed in response, eyes still staying on the book.

"Do i look okay?" You bit your lip as he glances up and scan you from head to toe.

"You look fine, I'm sure you'll do great." "You sound too disinterested. I could punch you right now but I don't want to stain my hands for my date." Xingqiu rolled his eyes and continue reading.

"I don't get why your so nervous. Just go, I'm sure he wouldn't care whatever you wear." You huffed, trying to fix the strand of hair on your face.

"Easy for you to say, Chongyun could care less about anything as long as it's you and martial arts." He laughed and pushed me out the door of my apartment.

"Well, have fun. Make sure to get your mans" He blew a raspberry and shut the foor to my face. I glance at time from my phone before moving my legs to my destination.

As people pass by, you try to calm your heartbeat but when your eyes met teal ones your senses cut off.

His beautiful eyes that never fail to captivate you. His lips twitched upwards as he noticed you were in a daze.

It took you five minutes to snap out of trance, and it might be short but if you were someone just staring at your date by the window for five minutes straight, I'm sure some people would think you were a creep.

"Have you had a pleasant day so far?" He asked as soon as you took your seat.

"Yes, Sorry.." You grimace from embarrassment "For staring at you for five minutes."

He chuckled and you could feel your face burning up "It's alright. I'm happy to know that my looks have captivated you."

You looked at the menu instead to hide your burning face. You wanted to tell him that he already captivated your heart as well but we don't want to die on our first date now would we?

You chewed on your lip and sneakily admire his face, he wore glasses. He never wore glasses at school before, it suits him. It suits him too well.

The date goes smoothly yet the butterflies in your stomach continue to dance around.

Albedo was walking you back to your apartment. You didn't notice your study date took so long, the moon had already rise.

You felt something over your shoulders. Albedo's coat covered your form and he send you a small smile as he interwined your hands.

His hands were colder than yours, but still it fitted perfectly.

You stopped by your apartment building, taking off the coat and giving it back to him.

"Keep it." "But-" He smiled and held a finger to your mouth "Please, keep it. Give it back to me on our next date." He kissed your knuckles like the gentlemen in the movies.

"Alright then. Have a good night Albedo, be sure to sleep and please no studying late at night." He smiled once again, he's been doing that more often.

"No promises, but I'll be sure to message you when I get home." You two stare at each other, not wanting to say goodbye yet.

It feels like a cheesy teenage romance. You have an inkling feeling you'll get embarrassed of your actions in the future. But you will never regret your decisions.

"I should hed off now." You nod as you two stare once again.

"Make sure to get your mans" You remember Xingqiu saying to you earlier.

With your new found courage, you kissed Albedo's cheek before turning around and speed walking to go to your room.

"Get back home safely!" Albedo could only stare at your running figure with wide eyes and a noticable red hue on his cheeks.

His hand traced the spot where you kissed earlier, still feeling the lingering warmth that's left on the cold night.

Yeah..he can't wait for your next date.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 30: Dukexiety

Day 30 - When you look in the mirror, you can’t see your own reflection, just your soulmate. (Never heard of this prompt before, so I guessed)

Content warnings: maybe some anxiety? Just some wholesome for ya.

Word count: 1.5k

This ficlet is dedicated to @marshymoop. 

Virgil was told he had brown hair; the color of a walnut. Sometimes if he grew it out long enough, he could just catch a glimpse of the color when it fell into his eyes. Apparently those were brown too. 

A friend of his mom’s was an artist and had drawn him when he’d turned thirteen, but it hadn’t looked right. The face staring back at him from the canvas didn’t feel like his at all. He didn’t recognize the curve to the nose or the bags under the eyes; it just looked like a stranger. The more he looked, the more uneasy he felt, and he’d tucked it into the back corner of his closet, never to look at it again.

His reflection, where he’d seen the face of his soulmate since he was a baby, was far more familiar to him.

Black hair streaked with white.

Sharp green eyes.

A smattering of freckles over olive skin.

Sometimes it was odd, smearing makeup under eyes that weren’t technically his, and trying to fix hair that was shorter than what showed in the reflection, but it was a problem everyone had until they met their soulmate. He just hoped that the dark clothes looked as good on the real him as it did on his reflection. 

 ---

Virgil was struggling to focus on the textbook paragraph in front of him when his phone chimed. It was a welcome distraction from the existential quandaries that came with Philosophy 103. Just a quick break, he promised. 

 Remus: heyyyyyyy

 Aaaand there was that plan out the window. He couldn’t care less though, studying be damned, because now his heart was pounding and a nearly painful smile was stretching his cheeks. It had been a week since Remus had messaged him, and the pent up joy was all coming out at once. 

 You’re back! He replied amidst flapping hands. How was camping? His fingers hesitated over the keyboard. 

 I missed your messages. I missed you. I was lonely.  

 He said nothing.

 Remus: i caught a squirrel. i couldn’t keep it though

 Virgil: Did you name it at least?

 That’s adorable. You’re adorable and a goof and amazing.

 Remus: Yep. Squirrely Temple

 A picture message showed up moments later, showing a surprisingly relaxed squirrel sitting in a styrofoam cup, a single peanut clasped in it’s little hands. The taker of the photo wasn’t visible, though that was to be expected. 

The next one featured what Virgil assumed was the same squirrel, this time wearing a crudely constructed paper top hat. It held another peanut, and once again seemed shockingly unconcerned. 

The photo was quickly replaced with a call screen and Virgil accepted it eagerly, still laughing.

 “Did you see the squirrel?” Remus asked excitedly, to which Virgil could only laugh harder.

 “Why is it in a hat?” He wheezed.

 “I made it out of sap and a brochure I found. I think Squirrely Temple looked rather dapper.” The grin was evident in Remus’ voice.

 “And you didn’t keep it?” Virgil inelegantly kicked his schoolwork off the bed to lay across it, grabbing his fidget cube from the side table.

 “Nah, something about preserving wildlife and not having enough room at home,” he yawned, “Me an’ Roman gave him plenty of peanuts before we left though. A whole pile on a wood stump.”

 “You sound tired,” Virgil teased. There was a small twinge in his chest at the idea of Remus going to bed already. He’d been off the grid for a week. Virgil was loath to admit, but he’d missed his friend more than expected. 

 “I think my body just sees an actual bed and the ‘tired’ protocol is,” Another yawn, “activated.”

 Virgil yawned in tandem. “You should probably sleep, then.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. 

 “Take your own advice, and I’ll consider. When’s the last time you got six hours of sleep?”

 “Consecutively?” 

 Remus snorted. There was a whoosh of air as he dropped onto his bed, and a brief lull in the conversation before he spoke up. “I think I’d rather talk to you than sleep, actually.”

 Damn, how was he supposed to respond to that? He pressed a cool hand to his reddening cheeks, glad the other couldn’t see him. “Wow, is that genuine emotion coming from Remus?” Virgil retorted instead. We can talk for hours if you want. I missed talking to you. 

 “My bad, I think I still have some fresh air in my system.”

 God, he’d missed him. A single week had felt like a whole year without their constant interaction and updates throughout their days. They’d only known each other for months (had it only been months?) but in that time, talking to each other had become so ingrained in their lives, it seemed wrong to not wake up with his phone blown up from messages. It was so effortless, wasting hours away but feeling like no time had passed at all. It meant the world to Virgil.

 And despite their jokes and snarky conversations, he had a feeling it meant a lot to Remus too.

 It was as if he blinked, and the sun had set in the sky. The room had gradually turned dark as ink but Virgil couldn’t be bothered to flip on the lights, not when he was so captivated by Remus’ voice as he recounted his family camping trip. He didn’t notice nor care; this was more important.

Only when Remus’ yawns grew closer and closer together did it occur to him that the other was several hours ahead, blasted timezones. It would be early morning there.

 “I think you should try to sleep,” Virgil grinned as Remus tried and failed to keep talking through another yawn.

 “Maybe,” He sighed.

 “Talk tomorrow?” For the first night in a bit, Virgil felt that same, familiar warm bubble in his chest.

 “I actually had a question for you, first.”

 Pop.

 Remus sounded uncharacteristically nervous, putting Virgil on edge instantly. Everything he’d ever done wrong flooded through his mind. Oh god, how did he find out about the third grade Christmas concert?

 “Do you want to vid chat?” He blurted.

 Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

  “Like, tomorrow. Or not. It’s okay if not.”

 Remus never stuttered. Something about it was unbelievably adorable. 

 “Just for fun, because we haven’t before, but if you don’t want to there’s no pressure-”

 “Yes.”

 All blubbering screeched to a halt on the other end, and Virgil couldn’t decide if his predominant emotion was anxiety or excitement. Besottedness, maybe? Either way, it made his face heat up to the tips of his ears and his feet wiggle.

 “Yes?”

 “Yeah, let’s do it.”

 “Okay!” Remus let out a relieved laugh that bordered on a giggle, “When?”

 “I end classes at one tomorrow.” 

 The man murmured his way through timezone math for a moment. “Yeah! Yeah, okay! I can do that! Yes!”

 Virgil bit his lip, but a laugh made its way through anyways. “I can’t wait.”

 -----------

 Whatever confidence Virgil had developed the day before, it had completely evaporated by the next morning. His mind wandered during classes, too busy coming up with worst case scenarios. What if the connection sucked? What if they spoke over each other and it was awkward? What if they had nothing to talk about and it got awkward? What if they weren’t compatible face to face? It added a whole new layer to their relationship they hadn’t explored before.

 What if they weren’t friends by the end of it? 

 He was equal parts relieved and petrified when his final class ended and there was nothing between him and the call. The whole walk back to his dorm was spent watching the numbers on the clock tick by, each minute sending a rush of adrenaline through him until he was sure he’d collapse from nerves right there on the path way. 

A text from Remus came through three minutes before their agreed time.

 Remus: Ready?

 NO, he wanted to scream. There were too many variables, they were leaving the comfort zone and that’s where Virgil thrived!

 Virgil: 5 mins

 He set up his computer and paced around his room for the remainder of his time. His eyes caught a blur of motion in the mirror and he turned to his reflection, his flapping hands slowing as he studied the face before him as he’d done hundreds of times before. Not his face, but the only one he knew as his.

A part of him was suddenly weighed by guilt as he looked into those bright eyes, because the guiltier part of him knew what he had was a crush. A helpless one, at that. And a hopeless one. What was the point pining after someone when the universe had already handpicked someone else for him? 

Stupid universe and it’s stupid soulmates. 

The chime of an incoming call startled him out of his reverie and he swore under his breath. He tried to soothe down his hair, rub the stress from his eyes, but it was hopeless when he couldn’t see if it actually looked okay.

He sat in his desk chair and took a few measured breaths before clicking accept. The video stuttered and glitched before it finally settled, and Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. 

 Black hair streaked with white.

 Sharp green eyes.

 A smattering of freckles over olive skin. 

 The silence stretched between them for achingly long before Remus beamed into the camera, and it was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen.

 “Well, hello there, soulmate.”

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

[ddarker-dreams]

A concept from a dream I had: Hisoka wants Chrollo's darling for himself and tries to steal her from him. Darling gets injured in the ensuing fight and has to get patched up afterwards by Machi. Then, a bit of fluff, darling seeks out Chrollo and hugs him for comfort because the whole thing has her a bit shaken. (Love your writing btw, it's super well written and captivating!)

Tunnel Vision. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Implied amnesia.  Word count: 2.2k. Note: thank you very much!! i made some minor changes, where darling is a member of the phantom troupe, and not yet aware of chrollo’s obsession. i hope you enjoy! i’ve had a lot of ideas for this specific darling with nen abilities and this idea seemed to fit her very well...

Sharp, pointed nails digging into your skin. The sickeningly sweet fragrance of bubblegum blended with metallic blood. Black dots obscuring your vision, the world growing further away with each miserable second. Through labored breathing, a tense dialogue is exchanged between both parties, the ringing from your ears making it impossible to know for sure what they’re saying. Falling in and out of consciousness, you pick up on a few phrases. 

“Just admit it, you’re no worse than I am. Look what you did to the poor girl. ♥” 

“Maybe so, but that’s inconsequential. Your judgment means nothing.” 

...

“Ah… what… a shame, that I didn’t... get to play with her as much as you did--” 

“Hmm… to think your voice has never bothered me this much until now. This should silence you permanently.”

“--So you shouldn’t move around much until it fully heals,” Machi instructs, her voice clear and direct. At your lack of immediate response, she frowns, snapping her fingers to pull you from your trance-like state. “Oi, [First]. Are you even listening?” 

You blink, her voice cutting through your clouded mind like a knife. “My bad, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Machi sighs and places a hand on her hip. Sapphire eyes glance over your person, not even bothering to hide her intentions, stopping every time she reaches your healed wounds. Even though your inebriated state, you can tell she’s deep in thought. You doubt she’d tell you what’s on her mind if you asked. So you sit there in silence, politely waiting for her to repeat what you missed. 

“I could tell. Just take it easy, you’re going to need a few days of rest.” Machi walks to her bag, rustling through its contents. She picks up a bottle of pills and places it on your nightstand. The same medicine that she had given you before treatment, to dull the pain. You fight back the urge to smile at the small gesture. Had you been any other customer of Machi’s, she would’ve left by now without a word, indifferent to your condition. Despite your best efforts, she catches onto your softened expression and clicks her tongue.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she deadpans, shooting you a glare. You give an apologetic smile. “Take one a day until it’s gone.”

“Thank you, Machi. I appreciate it.” 

“As you should,” Machi throws her bag over her shoulder and goes to the door. Before she can turn the nob, she turns back at you. “I forgot to mention, but you have a visitor. The boss has been waiting here since he brought you in.” 

An unknown emotion stirs in the depths of your soul. Any playful retaliation you had for Machi’s previous comment dies on your tongue, your eyebrows furrowing. Why do you feel troubled by this revelation? You fight back the anxiety that bubbles up in your stomach. There’s no time to linger on this newfound unease, as Chrollo enters the room after exchanging pleasantries with Machi. Despite your efforts to suppress your discomfort, your body does as it pleases, heart palpitating and throat feeling tight.

He shuts the door behind him quietly and leans against the wall.

Chrollo Lucilfer. You consider your relationship to be a strictly professional one -- maybe a touch of reverence on your behalf -- never feeling as friendly with him as with the other members. He stands before you now in casual attire. Jet black hair frames his face, loose and fine, proudly showcasing the unusual tattoo on his forehead. It’s strange to see him without his trademark leather coat. Instead, he wears jeans and a navy blue undershirt. Immediately, you pick up on the bloodstains on his shirt, assuming he had shed his coat before coming in.

He smiles at your staring, not commenting as you glance away. “How are you feeling?” 

“The medicine hasn’t worn off, so not too bad,” you struggle to exhale, your breathing ragged. Why does it feel so warm in here all of a sudden? “Machi told me you, uh, carried me here. Thank you. I’m sorry about your shirt… I’ll buy you a replacement.” 

Chrollo puts a hand up to stop you. “There’s no need.” 

Being one on one with your mysterious boss is as awkward as you imagined it would be. You still don’t know why he’s here. In between jobs, Chrollo would disappear into thin air, untraceable until calling the Troupe back together. So him being the one to find you on the verge of death hasn’t made sense. Machi gave noncommittal answers whenever you brought this up or told you to ask him yourself. Which you intended to at the time, but now that you’re in his intimidating presence, the words die on your tongue before they can begin. 

He pushes himself off the wall and sits on the edge of your bed. The proximity feels strangely intimate, your face flushing at how familiar the act seems to him. Chrollo’s close enough now where you can pick up on his rich cologne. Dry wood with hints of leather. The scent increases your heart rate, anxiety at a new peak. You bite your lip and ball your hands into a fist to try and cope with the all-encompassing unease. To appear weak in front of him would be an insult to your tattered pride. 

“Machi informed me about your memory,” Chrollo leans forward as if to inspect you. Grey eyes bore deep into your soul, searching for something. “She said you thought it was July when you regained consciousness.” 

You swallow thickly at his questioning. How humiliating is this? Whatever it was that had happened to injure you already felt degrading enough. your pride as a competent Nen user in shambles. The most plausible explanation is that Chrollo discovered you after you had lost a fight, but the remaining details are fuzzy at best. Theorizing is all you can do. The unexplained amnesia is frustrating, but it’s only a few months, so you figure it could’ve been worse. 

“That’s correct.”

Chrollo closes his eyes, as if in deep reflection. “So that’s how it is. I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re trying to recover, but can I ask a few questions?” 

“Ah, of course. I’m sorry if I’m forgetting something important…” 

This catches his attention, his posture tensing ever so slightly. You notice how his jaw tightens and assume your guess was correct. Your desire for answers on these missing four months strengthens and you feel hopeful that Chrollo holds some of the answers. It’s frustrating how both Machi and Chrollo seem to know more than you do but are refusing to give solid answers. Maybe they’re being considerate of your health? You’re not so fragile that you need to be coddled by your fellow Troupe members. 

Chrollo looks down at you through thick eyelashes. “Do you think that you are?” 

“I… I think so, yes.” 

He sits silently for a moment, running a hand through his hair and giving a bittersweet smile. “We’re in a relationship.” 

Wait, what? This would explain why Chrollo was with you at a time when the Troupe wasn’t gathered and his casual demeanor. Your expression must not be as schooled as you intended, as he gives a humorless chuckle to your wide eyes and parted lips.  You… were in a relationship with The Phantom Troupe’s boss? Your boss? When did that happen? How did that happen? Did the others know? Ah, the teasing that would come with that. It’s not that you don’t find him attractive, your eyes work just fine, but the revelation still takes you back. Cheeks burning, you break eye contact and play with your hair. Feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious, you pull your blanket up further to cover your bare shoulders. 

“There’s no need to be so embarrassed, [First],” Chrollo chastises with a playful tilt of his head. “I’ve seen all of it many times before.” 

He’s not making this easier on you. You’re desperate to move on from the subject and decide to bring up another troublesome topic. Though you have an idea of what the answer will be, you’d still prefer that he’d confirm it for peace of mind. 

“I was wondering, boss--” you cut yourself off with an apologetic smile when he furrows his eyebrows, “--I mean, Chrollo, about my Hatsu. I can tell I don’t have it now. Are you ‘borrowing’ it?” 

There’s no other plausible explanation. In what other scenarios would you lose a fight that horrendously? You can’t picture anything else, your abilities have been enough to earn you Chrollo’s recognition and subsequent invitation to the Troupe years ago. It’s not uncommon that your boss will ask to borrow other Troupe member’s abilities. Sometime during the months that you’ve forgotten, this must’ve happened, or so you assume. 

Chrollo nods his head. “I am, yes. Why do you ask? Would you like it back?” 

“It does feel like a part of me is missing,” you admit sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “So, if it isn’t too much trouble…” 

“I had to delay the job I borrowed it for due to what happened to you. Is it alright if I hold onto it for just a bit longer?” He’s moving even closer to you now than before. The bed shifts underneath his weight, Chrollo delicately taking your face into his hands. Your mind has trouble scrounging together a comprehensible response. How can you focus when the pads of his thumbs rub soothing circles against your cheek, his deep eyes hypnotizing. You swallow thickly when his pointer finger drags slowly against your bottom lip. Chrollo told you that you’re together, you remind yourself, assuming he has just missed touching you. It’s impossible to not notice the hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, well, in that case, it’s fine.” You only manage to relax when he pulls away from you, content with your response. This has been a draining series of events. Chrollo’s one-sided familiarity isn’t easy to keep up with, you still view him as your boss and he views you as a lover. Sensing your apprehension, he takes your hand in his and places it over your pounding heart. 

“Do you feel this?” He hums, to which you nod, speechless at the bold action. “Even if you don’t remember your love for me, your body hasn’t forgotten a thing from our time together.” 

Is that what this feeling is? Love? You want to trust him, to take his word for it, but something still doesn’t feel right. Chrollo’s presence has kept you on edge ever since he entered your room. Even now, your skin is covered in goosebumps, hair standing on the back of your neck. What else are you forgetting? This is the question that reverberates in your mind, threatening to consume you entirely. Softly, as not to offend him, you take his hand off you. Chrollo’s expression is unreadable as you do so.

“I’m sorry, Chrollo, I’m just not sure I’m ready for... this yet.” You admit in truth, guilt washing over you at how his flirtatious demeanor changes to a calculating one. This is the version of Chrollo that you’re most familiar with. Your mysterious boss, who coldly issues orders and relishes in thrill of thievery, someone not as personal as he’s been acting like. Chrollo moves back and you’re grateful for the room to gather your bearings.

“Of course,” his aloof tone sends shivers down your spine, a distant gleam in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have every intention of watching over you until you recover. It wouldn’t sit well with me otherwise.” 

Chrollo motions to your closet door, which is slightly ajar. Inside you recognize some of his clothes that are hanging next to yours. “And I do live here, but I’ll sleep on the couch for tonight. How does that sound?” 

So the two of you were so close that you had invited him to move in? How fast was this relationship going, anyway? It doesn’t feel like you to get that intimate with someone else in such a short time. The way Chrollo phrased it makes it sound like you used to sleep in the same bed too, how embarrassing… God, his comments are going to be the end of you. You need time to think. To let all this information that’s been thrust onto you sink in. 

“If it’s not too much for an inconvenience. I feel awful… about forgetting as much as I have. Machi said she didn’t see any notable head injuries, so I can only assume it was a Nen ability.” 

“That could be it,” Chrollo responds more flippantly than you expected, standing from your bed. You thought he’d be eager to explore the avenues of returning your memory. Maybe it’s too painful to think about? “You haven’t eaten since this morning, so I’ll get us some dinner. Keep resting up.” 

“Thank you. I’m sorry for all this trouble.” 

Chrollo waves away your apology without concern. He does, however, acknowledge you before leaving your shared bedroom. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You hope you’re imagining it. 

“By the way, [First]... I want you to know this. I’ll have you fall in love with me again. That’s a promise.” 

Then he’s gone without another word.