#consequences meet actions. and no he’s not the only one who didn’t want to kill the eggs but he’s a big reason why the deal fell through

[zeb-z]

talking entirely character wise. do you think today was a bit of a wake up call for bad. do you think he heard red screaming out of their minds begging for toxic gas and thought about how they’ve lost their minds just a little bit. do you think that when he was given an immediate no when he asked where the red egg was to help them defend he understood how deep of a rift he created. do you think as he sat there silent while the rest of red cheered at killing the egg statue, he wondered if he could have pushed them a little too far. do you think that maybe, just maybe, with the red sun beating down on him in that desert, the gas mask team cheering and dancing, he felt for a single moment the consequences of his actions? that maybe, if he hadn’t started out so hostile with extreme tactics, if he hadn’t been so bloodthirsty and ruthless, if he had had just a little bit of hesitation, that his own attempts at diplomacy would have gone over better? that the rest of the teams would have listened? that red would have trusted his judgement on the egg statues, or at the very least respected him enough to honor an agreement? do you think he realizes that burning his bridges may have fucked him over?

[chrollogy]

THE COST OF DEVOTION | chrollo lucilfer x f!reader

synopsis: When Chrollo Lucilfer is assigned to go undercover, and kill a billionaire’s daughter, he finds himself breaking the most sacred rule of the underworld—that there should be no feelings involved. The consequences of his actions backs Chrollo into a corner where he has to choose between fulfilling the job or following his heart at a risky price.

18+ MDNI; undercover assassin!chrollo, bodyguard!chrollo, billionaire’s daughter!reader, loosely follows some canon events (chrollo’s past), reader is referred to as ‘miss’, DARK CONTENT, DARK ROMANCE, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort (no happy ending), explicit smut, SLOW BURN, major character death, touches on arranged marriage, cheating, killing, money laundering, human trafficking, kidnapping, sacrilege & blood (briefly), gun use, chrollo struggles with feelings, chrollo has scars, OCs mentioned, not beta read.

word count: 18.6k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. ITS HERE !! thank u to @ljubimaya & @avatarofstars for supporting me throughout the writing process and for being such amazing friends :3 this is different from my usual fics + super self indulgent so enjoy. feedbacks & thoughts are much appreciated ><

Loud music, enough to make one’s chest thump, annoying bright strobe lights, and the sea of intoxicated bodies that passionately danced with one another without a care in the world, Chrollo wanted out. He observed the luxury club with a subtle scowl, gaze sharp enough to tear one’s throat as he watched the spoiled, and rich carelessly sway to the beat of the music—you were one of them.

A privileged affluent businessman’s daughter who didn’t know how to handle one’s wealth so she resorts to spending nights swiping her card for overpriced drinks, and whatever expensive shit the club had to offer.

Meanwhile, the lower class had to work themselves to near death to be able to provide for their families. One, two, three jobs just to make ends meet—just to pay rent, just to bring food to the table even if it meant working for the underworld.

That was where Chrollo fell into the spectrum; fortunate enough to live but unfortunate enough to live a cruel life in an equally cruel world. He grew up learning how to steal, fight, and kill while you grew up having maids cook every meal, a solid roof over your head, and generational wealth to spend.

It made Chrollo sick to his stomach how wealthy kids like you could just take, take, and take yet had the audacity to complain about their lives as if society didn’t favour them at all. He could go on, and on about this whole ordeal but at the end of the day, no one would even bat an eye, plus, he had a job to do—technically, two jobs.

At the heart of the sweaty, inebriated club, you stood there beneath the neon strobe lights, it bounced off the strands of your hair like a colourful aura mirroring your careless joy. Body perfectly swaying to the beat of the music, a half-full glass of a sweet cocktail, and a blissful expression on your face; maybe if the circumstances were different Chrollo would have smiled at your blithe spirit but it wasn’t.

Your eyes—a drunken haze—found his own to which you immediately acknowledged with a cheery wave of your free hand.

It only took a split second for Chrollo to mask the obvious scowl on his face with a sickly saccharine smile—one that made his gut twist with disgust—he returned the gesture with a dip of his chin paired with raising a glass of water in the air as if to make a toast. Chrollo’s expression fell the minute you turned away, unceremoniously slouching back into the leathered booth you’ve booked beforehand, he let out a deep sigh, and rubbed at his temples.

Two weeks

It had only been two weeks since your father—Chrollo’s employer—hired him as your personal bodyguard, and as expected, extensive pre-screening was a must before one could securely acquire said role which Chrollo found extremely bothersome despite its lack of difficulty. Though this wasn’t a rare occurrence, it only made sense for the rich to hire a skilled bodyguard to protect oneself from unknown dangers.

Obviously, he didn’t apply to be your personal bodyguard for sincere reasons—far from it, actually; Chrollo was here for a task that would land him his heftiest pay yet, even just thinking about made his head spin with immeasurable happiness already but Chrollo figured he’d bask in filthy money after completing the job. He always did.

If anything, this should be a walk in the park for him considering there was nothing more satisfying than seeing the demise of a wealthy brat. But for now, he’d take it slow, and earn your trust ‘til the right time comes; where his mask falls, and true motives come to light.

Where the last thing the assassin would receive from you was a look of pure horror much like his previous targets. Would you beg for him to spare your life like others did? Or would you sit in complete shock, words lodged deep inside your throat?

These thoughts immediately dissipated at the call of his name; a few feet away, you stumbled your way towards the booth, the highball glass tucked in your hand was now empty with only half melted ice cubes remaining. Chrollo stood up, wrapping a firm arm around your back, helping you regain balance before guiding you to the leathered seat, the fabric cool against your feverish skin.

“Should I call the chauffeur, miss?” Chrollo feigned worry. His stature loomed over your sitting figure, back lit with red neon strobe lights, giving him a deep crimson glow. You stared at him longer than necessary before responding with a small nod; the wild atmosphere, paired with your spinning vision seemed like a good enough hint to head home, and retire for the night.

At your agreement, Chrollo let out a big mental sigh of relief—he may be an adept assassin but sitting idly for hours while watching his asset drink the night away exhausted his patience more than one could imagine.

The ride back to the estate was all a drunken haze for you, though, you recalled a brief exchange of words between Chrollo, and your chauffeur as the latter helped you inside the vehicle before, they seemed to get along swimmingly despite the former only being a new addition to your personal staff. Albeit, that description might be a bit too generous, maybe it was just your drunk self thinking but nonetheless, you appreciated the courteous manner between the two. 

“Lukas?”

You called out to the chauffeur, he donned a formal attire just like Chrollo—a black tailored suit—he was an old-timer who had been your father’s previous chauffeur before you were born. It was safe to say you’ve learned a lot from him growing up, and maybe even served more as a father figure than your biological one.

“Yes, miss?” Lukas glanced briefly at the rear-view mirror. “Chrollo . . He’s nice, isn’t he?”

The older man could only chuckle in response, letting your words soak into the darkness of the vehicle before nodding, “He’s a promising young lad.” He glanced at the mirror once again, this time letting his gaze linger on you, headlights from the vehicle Chrollo drove behind poured into the backseat, and illuminated your face; Lukas didn’t know if it was due to your drunken state or from pure sincerity but the subtle smile on your face somewhat warmed his heart.

He took a mental note that you seemed to be quite fond of your new bodyguard.

After safely reaching the estate, and escorting you inside, Chrollo made his way to the staff house. Walking past the wooden double doors, he was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice, “Off to bed, Chrollo?” It was Lukas, your chauffeur; he sat on one of the crimson couches, one hand nursing a cup of hot coffee.

Chrollo stared at the old man’s face behind the wisps of steam from the drink, the latter donned a rather pleased look on his face, he thought nothing of it, and nodded, “And yourself?”

Lukas returned the nod, “A little later for me.”

Silence occupied the living room for a moment. Chrollo could’ve left the conversation at that but instead, he stood there, feet rooted on the wooden floor, sensing that Lukas had more to say but was debating on it.

Seeing as he didn’t want to waste any more time, Chrollo spoke up “Is there something else you’d like to say?” His voice cut through the quiet atmosphere, he had now angled his body towards the older man. Lukas set the mug atop the coffee table before giving him his full attention, “The young miss seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Chrollo didn’t know how to react to that—even if he did, he wouldn’t have let on.

At his silence, Lukas invited himself to speak further, “At times, she can be quite a handful . . but hearing her speak positively of you warms my heart. What I’m trying to say is, please take good care of the young miss, it means a lot for her to say such things about you.”

Trust? Good.

Chrollo’s rosy lips stretched into a genuine smile, “I will. Thank you.” And with that, he excused himself before heading to his room, the soles of his obsidian shoes produced no noise with each step. He wasn’t happy because you seemed to like him, no, Chrollo was happy because you trusted him so easily—probably the biggest mistake you’ve made.

Though, nothing would really change if you didn’t trust him, either way, you’d meet your demise no matter what.

As the new week rolled around, it was no surprise that Chrollo had already memorised your weekly routine—without a doubt, you spent days in the office but he had noted other destinations you frequented.

On Mondays, you visited a cosy flower boutique in the morning, owned by a lovely old florist who’s cheeks were as pink as the camellias neatly displayed on the counter next to her. You only bought one type of flower—white chrysanthemums, a dozen, to be exact; they were carefully wrapped in a simple brown paper, and topped off with an ivory satin ribbon.

On the way back to the car, Chrollo wondered why you chose these specific flowers, and upon asking, you simply replied with:

‘White chrysanthemums symbolise devoted love, and loyalty—something we need more of in this world, don’t you think?’ 

How ironic. He had no knowledge about flowers but he always thought white chrysanthemums meant death, specifically a symbol of mourning, and grief—a flower fit for one’s grave yet you displayed them in a vase to bring life into your room.

If you were being completely honest, chrysanthemums didn’t hold any significance in your life; one day you decided to visit the flower boutique run by the old lady, and she had told you all about the flower. Oddly enough, you started to grow fond of it.

Chrysanthemums were awfully common in his hometown—Meteor City—and not in a good way; inhabited by untraceable outcasts, it was the perfect hunting ground for illegal activities such as human trafficking, as well as an endless source of disposable hitmen, and assassins like Chrollo himself.

Due to mass abductions, and murders of the people, chrysanthemums were laid out at the church for each victim; he could clearly remember walking down the aisle, a smell so sweet, and minty filled the thick atmosphere. For an aroma so pleasant, who would’ve thought it was associated with such sorrow?

On Tuesdays, you attended your private pilates lesson at 8 AM on the dot which lasted a little under an hour. As usual, Chrollo stayed idly by the entrance of the studio, just at the foyer as the muffled voice of your instructor seeped from under the closed door; this was usually paired with brunch at a local café after, as per your words, ‘a much needed caffeine break’ whatever that meant. He couldn’t care less, he was too busy assessing the layout of the building for an escape route, and potential threats as though he wasn’t the biggest threat here.

The window seat offered a clear view of the street outside, vehicles driving by, people in their own little world as they headed to their destination; not to mention the ample morning sunlight that poured in, allowing you to study Chrollo’s reflection from the glass.

He stood behind you with his back facing the window, scanning the entire café; you watched as his head slowly moved from left to right, then right to left, giving you a peek of his side profile. Your eyes traced every dip, and curve of Chrollo’s face, from the slope of his nose, all the way to the sharpness of his jawline. It was odd how this man—who barely talked to you unless necessary—had piqued your interest. In what way? That was something you were still trying to figure out.

How Chrollo carried himself with silent confidence stood out from the rest of your security team; sure, he was vigilant of his surroundings but each action he displayed was calculated, and clean—too clean. You’ve also noticed how his steps were much lighter than everyone else’s, it made almost no sound as though he was actively stalking a prey. And for a brief moment, you wondered who that prey was.

On Wednesdays, you were present at your father’s company for the whole day. Though, the scowl on your face clearly screamed your opposition; it wasn’t a secret to anyone how uninterested you were in all the business talk—in fact, if anyone were to ask about it, you could probably go on, and on about how boring, and tedious it was, conversely, if asked what you wanted to do in life, you’d probably have a hard time answering.

Alas, as the sole heir, the company automatically fell to your hands whether you liked it or not. Wednesdays were always a drag, having to make acquaintances with investors, and show face during monotonous meetings that rarely concerned you—you’d rather spend time elsewhere.

On Thursdays, you were also at the company but for a different reason. Chrollo only knew you reported straight to your father’s office, and he was often ordered to wait at the ground floor. The meeting with your father always took approximately two hours, and each time, you came out looking like someone had pressed all your buttons.

Though today, for the sake of Chrollo’s own selfish curiosity, seeing as the hallway was deserted, he lingered outside the office for a bit but all he really got was pure silence—either you, and your father conversed in a hushed voice or the walls were soundproof. Whatever the case was, Chrollo didn’t bother sticking around but he was quickly stopped in his tracks as voices from inside were suddenly raised—yours first, followed by your father.

Looking back at the office door, Chrollo heard you shout in opposition, it seemed like the conversation had somewhat turned into a heated argument. Nonetheless, he continued down the hallway—it was none of Chrollo’s business, after all.

“No! I’ve already told you, I’m not doing that!” Loud voice sliced through the growing tension inside the room. The older male—who sat behind his desk—leaned back into the seat, leather groaning beneath his weight as he rubbed his temples at your stubbornness, clearly displeased with how much you were blowing everything out of proportion. You stayed rooted in your spot, just standing a metre away from your father.

“Look, darling, I’ve already agreed—” “Agreed without my consent.” Raising your hands in defeat, you paced around the room, each heavy step muffled by the crimson carpet beneath your soles. “I’m the one getting married to someone I haven’t met! I never even wanted to be in an arranged marriage just because of what—a stupid business partnership?!”

This was the first time you’ve raised your voice at your father; all the years under his care, and guidance, you gladly accepted what was left upon your hands. Continuing the legacy of your father’s company? Sure, no problem, you could deal the burden on your shoulders but marrying a complete stranger?

That was more than crossing a mere boundary.

Your father was a skilled business man, and you never doubted that once—he was excellent at negotiating, and closing deals so for him to stoop as low as agreeing with an arranged marriage for the sake of his company, it baffled you, a lot. What more could he possibly want?

“I’m done with this conversation.”

Letting out a breath you’ve been holding, you turned around, and headed for the door but before reaching the silver handle, your father spoke up from behind, “Next week. You’re attending the corporate event with Euan. That’s final.” All you could do was nod.

Chrollo spotted your rather distressed figure exit the elevator, and head for the car park, not so much sparing a glance as you passed him; nonetheless, he quietly trailed you, steely gaze observing your figure up, and down—shoulders tight, and fists clenched at your side.

You felt defeated.

The thought of spending the rest of your life with a man you didn’t genuinely love, was that really your so-called future? A bond made for the sole purpose of expanding business?

Stepping into the underground car park, you stopped in your tracks, the automatic glass door silently humming as it closed behind you. Naturally, Chrollo did the same but didn’t dare speak up. Click clack. Two clicks from the soles of your shoes as you turned to face your bodyguard with a deflated expression, he could only raise a brow in surprise before you sat on your haunches, and buried your face inside the hearts of your palms.

Oh.

One, two, three seconds—it took Chrollo exactly three seconds to register the sight before him, and he didn’t know what to do; awkwardness settled in the air between the two of you as you sobbed into your hands. He moved closer—taking a few cautious steps as though he walked on eggshells—and squatted down to your level, “Miss?” He called out, his dulcet voice drowned by your soft whimpers, every muscle in Chrollo’s body was stiff, movements unsure.

What was he supposed to do? Reach out, and stroke your hair? Pull you close against his chest? Chrollo was more than sure that doing so was completely unprofessional on his end. So, he was reduced to sitting next to you, silently watching your shoulders shake with each muffled sob until you finally decided to lift your head, “I apologise for acting this way. I’m certain you probably don’t care but—”

Correct. Chrollo did not care.

“My father has been pushing me in an arranged marriage. I kept saying ‘no’ until he went behind my back, and agreed to it. I found out today and I just—I lost it. The benefits of what comes after marriage are endless for the company; more investors, more money, more security but is that really worth sacrificing my shot at finding the one I truly love?”

Saying the words aloud made it sound so silly. Finding your one true love, how naïve, that only happened in children’s fairy tales.

Upon learning the reason for your upset, Chrollo could only nod, he wasn’t the type to console anyone, let alone his employer’s daughter. The last time he could remember doing so was almost a decade, and a half ago during the time his dear friend—Sarasa—went missing.

It was a rainy day in Meteor City, Chrollo remembered hugging his friends tightly, reassuring them that everything was going to be alright even though uncertainty gnawed at his skin. 

He was innocent, and didn’t know better then.

But the incident with Sarasa was what fuelled his pure hatred for the wealthy. Chrollo was only a kid, full of limitless joy, and hope despite growing up in poverty. It was during the height of abductions in Meteor City, and that was when he learned that not even his friends were immune from illegal activities after seeing it with his own eyes.

It was broad daylight, and Sarasa had been forced into a car by two large men—as if one wasn’t enough to take a helpless little girl. The worst part was, Chrollo could only stand, and watch as his friend got taken away with nothing but helpless tears in his eyes, and a blazing anger that burned a thousand suns.

He could still recall the way his nails dug into the hearts of his palms, the temporary pain it felt. The incident haunted his coming days, hearing Sarasa’s screams at night, and how she begged for the men to spare her life.

Chrollo overheard from the Elders that the ones behind illegal abductions were the wealthy, and that night, he made a promise to avenge Sarasa—even if it meant taking lives. It was clear the rich were parasites of the world, greedy for money, and power, leaving none behind for the unfortunate. 

Chrollo couldn’t bring himself to understand your situation, and emotions—he didn’t have to but some odd part made him want to.

From Fridays to Sundays, you usually spent the time out with friends but as the days came, you remained cooped up inside your room, and only came out unless necessary. The thought of isolating yourself somewhat ate away at Chrollo, despite not being able to fully grasp your situation, he figured it must have been a breaking point for you, and deep down, for some weird reason, he was worried.

This was the first time you’ve shown him an emotion other than happiness—which he presumed was most likely out of professionalism—so seeing your distressed state had him rather curious.

Stationed just outside the doors to your room, Chrollo couldn’t do anything to quench the sparked interest inside him—guarding the entrance of your room was all there was to do which ended up with him drowning in his thoughts while standing idly. Even though Chrollo didn’t understand your sentiment, he knew no one should marry a stranger for the sake of business.

Though, Chrollo didn’t have much time to ponder about your situation as his replacement came walking up the stairs meaning it was the end of his shift for the day. He entertained a brief exchange with his co-worker before heading out.

Walking down the stone path that led to the deserted flower garden, Chrollo dug into the inside pocket of his blazer, and took out a burner phone. As the assassin dialled a number, he was greeted with a view of endless greenery decorated with bright hues from a variety of flowers; the floral aroma wrapped around his body like a fluffy blanket. Somehow, the sweet scent reminded Chrollo of you.

The cheap phone rang once, twice ‘til a familiar voice spilled through its speakers, “I’m guessing you’re here to update me?” The male on the other side of the call questioned. Chrollo agreed, and the line went silent, urging him to give the details.

As he gave a thorough update, Chrollo mindlessly walked down the stone path, various colours making its way to his line of vision. Though, a particular flower caught his eye—a sea of yellow as bright as the morning rays decorated several bushes on the ground. While speaking into the phone, Chrollo squatted down to its level, and examined the delicate flower, Bird’s foot trefoil, the small ivory signage before it read.

Two months, that was the amount of time given to complete the job. It was reasonable enough with the amount of security you were surrounded with, and even though Chrollo was the only bodyguard you took whenever you left the house, Lukas remained by your side as well—he made sure not to underestimate the old timer.

Chrollo had never heard of this man before but from what he knew, he seemed to be about the same age. Why the man was seeking out revenge by targeting your life was also something that remained a mystery—after all, Chrollo was only there to kill, details weren’t necessary when it came to an assassin.

“‘M not gonna tell you how to do your job but remember, time is ticking, and I’m spending a whole lot of money on this, yeah?”

Voicing his agreement before ending the call, he took one last look at the flower, and stood up, heading for the staff house.

It was about time Chrollo hunted for his prey.

With the new week, everyone prepared for the corporate event in a few hours—even Chrollo himself, as well as the rest of the security team was busy scouting the venue, and looking for any potential threats around, and inside the building.

Tonight, he donned a sleek, all black look which was slightly different from the usual white button down, and black suit he wore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, employees, and important investors began pouring in the building; the inside boasted a formal theme with a lavish teardrop crystal chandelier that mimicked the shine of a thousand diamonds, round tables were draped in ivory cloths which housed a bunch of butterfly pea flowers encased in sleek ceramic vases.

Silence was replaced with melodic laughter, and casual conversations between acquaintances, and co-workers as the vast room was slowly filled with more people.

Having arrived at the venue earlier, Chrollo stood by the entrance, waiting for your arrival. As the familiar vehicle rolled around, Lukas exited the vehicle, and opened the rear passenger door.

Expecting you to come out of the vehicle, Chrollo was caught slightly off-guard when a stranger clad in a navy blue tuxedo did so instead—he donned obsidian strands that carefully framed his handsome face, and piercing honeyed eyes that was sure to make any woman swoon.

The assassin watched as he turned to face the vehicle, and held out a hand to you. Taking up on the polite offer, you held his hand, and gracefully stepped out of the vehicle. And there you were, in all your serene beauty, skin glowing beneath the warm streetlights that made Chrollo inhale a sharp breath for some odd reason.

“Thank you, Euan.” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Euan? Chrollo thought.

With how he lovingly kissed the back of your hand, and from the way you forced a smile, it wasn’t hard to piece together that this was the man you were forced to marry. Somehow, Chrollo felt a tinge of annoyance spark within the depths of his chest—maybe because he was aware of the whole arranged marriage situation or maybe because he was yet in the presence of another stuck up, pompous spoiled person. 

Euan interlaced his fingers with yours before heading towards the entrance, Chrollo didn’t miss the way the diamond ring on your finger twinkled like stars in the night sky. Surprisingly, Euan acknowledged Chrollo with a dip of his chin; you mirrored your date’s action, and only then did the assassin respond in the same way.

The event was boring as one would have expected, your father—the CEO—mostly talked about the company’s milestones up on the podium, he held a champagne flute in one hand filled with golden liquid while entertaining the room with uneventful accomplishments. Though, what you didn’t expect tonight was for your father to openly reveal your arranged marriage with Euan in front of your subordinates, and investors,

“It’s my pleasure to announce that the COO of D&J—my daughter—is soon to be wed with Mr. Euan Heston from Heston Enterprises.”

As endless applause, and supportive smiles filled the venue, you sat frozen on your seat, unable to muster even the tiniest smile. From the corner of your vision, you could see Euan bashfully nodding his head, and shaking hands with those in neighbouring tables as they congratulated him. You stared at your father in complete disdain which only prompted a forced smile from him.

Unbelievable.

A shaky breath escaped your lips before swallowing the raging emotions, pushing them down, down, down to the depths of your core, and as though a switch inside you was flipped, a smile stretched across your face, throwing out thank you’s to those who offered their support.

With the end of the CEO’s speech, and certain formalities, all that’s left was to mix, and mingle with everyone else which—thankfully—Euan did while you quietly sneaked away to the open bar. Although, visibly drowning yourself in more champagne only invited more guests to come, and gush about the weighted ring on your finger, not to mention how openly they adored Euan.

Hearing such high praise thrown his way, you caught yourself staring at your soon-to-be husband; you watched as he gracefully waltzed from table to table, engaging in polite conversations with not only the important people in the room but also with your subordinates.

Euan was well-mannered, kind, and respectful—he was everything your father wanted as your husband but he wasn’t made for you, and deep down, you knew that.

From the corner of the room, Chrollo watched it all unfold. From the way you stiffened beneath everyone’s stares as your father revealed the marriage, all the way to your gaze finding Euan amongst the crowd. He felt weird.

Albeit subtle, Chrollo sensed it was there—as though a foreign seed had been planted in his chest waiting for it to grow, and destroy him from inside out. Whether it produced the fruit of anger, revenge or some other emotion in the dictionary, he couldn’t tell, all he knew was it took root inside his heart.

As Chrollo got lost in his thoughts for a bit, he was greeted with an empty barstool that was previously occupied by you; he scanned the vast room, stone cold eyes darting from left to right, and right to left trying to catch a glimpse of your familiar figure.

Slight panic didn’t settle in until Chrollo realised that you were nowhere to be seen—the feeling began to gnaw at his very bones as the attempts of finding your whereabouts led to a dead end, he even went as far as asking a woman standing just outside the bathroom if she’s seen you walk in but only shook her head.

Wide, panicked steps, Chrollo unceremoniously crossed the room in search of you while almost bumping into several guests in a nervous haze; he muttered out whispered apologies, gaze remaining ahead. His heart thumped loudly against his ears, serving as a mere distraction to throw off his already breaking composure.

God, your father would absolutely kill him if he were to find out that he’d lost sight of you.

But Chrollo wasn’t scared of that, not even an ounce of fear in his body at the thought of your father’s wrath, instead, he worried for your safety; the more minutes passed without a trace of you, the more frustration consumed every fibre of him.

The only option left was to check the balcony.

With a bated breath, he opened the sliding door, a gentle, cool breeze of the night greeted him like a welcome hug. His gaze scanned the open area which—thankfully—landed on your familiar figure, you stood there, leaning against the metal railing while looking up at the obsidian skies.

Relief briefly washed over Chrollo as he let out a sigh but this feeling was soon replaced with red, hot anger.

He stalked over to where you stood, each step heavy with annoyance, “Where have you been? I was looking all over for you! Don’t run off like that.”

The ever calm, and collected bodyguard coming for your neck with such ferocity caught you off guard, not to mention the obvious bite in his tone. With furrowed brows, you turned to face Chrollo, a look of disbelief painted on your face. The audacity of this man. Who the hell was he to boss you around as though you were his subordinate?

“That’s ‘miss’ for you—” You crossed your arms, head slightly tilted upwards as you looked down at him from your nose.

“And relax, Chrollo. I’m not harmed. I don’t see what the fuss is about.” You were absolutely right, and Chrollo hated that you were because he didn’t know where else to channel his anger, if anything, your words doused the flame inside his chest with gasoline, allowing it to expand, and burn an azure fire.

Despite his better judgement, Chrollo let it consume him, “Relax? I’m your bodyguard, it’s my duty to keep you safe, and out of danger! What if something happens to you, and I’m not around, hm?”

Chrollo felt the foreign seed inside his chest grow into uncertainty—an odd feeling he’s never felt before. Speaking out like this, and losing his cool over a situation was out of character for him but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as though words willingly flew out of his throat, and out into the open.

“Exactly, you’re only a bodyguard. You have no right to act this way towards me. Have you forgotten I’m not your equal?” You retorted, dishing out the same amount of ferocity he had given you.

Initially, you were going to let the whole thing slide, it was understandable where Chrollo was coming from—he was only doing his job—but it pissed you off seeing as how he had the audacity to act like that.

You looked up at the taller man, gaze not backing down from his steely ones; it took him a couple of seconds to hold your stare before breaking it, and looking off to the dark horizon. Though, you swore you saw his eyes subtly dip down for a split second before doing so—you weren’t too sure, maybe it was the darkness playing tricks.

You were right. Chrollo was only a bodyguard, so did he cross the line? The unclear answer made him all the more furious but for now, he’d have to settle for the explanation that he’s your bodyguard, and he has the right to worry about your safety. Even if Chrollo himself didn’t entirely believe this reason.

“You’re right. I apologise for crossing any boundaries, miss.”

Chrollo stationed himself near the sliding door, offering you space to enjoy the quiet night in peace. Now, you felt kind of bad for raising your voice at him when he clearly showed nothing but concern; you chalked it up to the stress your father weighed upon you tonight—the decision to tell everyone about the marriage, Euan being your date for tonight, the engagement ring that wrapped around your finger.

It was clear that Chrollo was still bothered about the whole thing, you could see it from the way his jaw tightened, and the subtle crease between his brows. Whatever. You’ll deal with it later.

A petty argument. That was it. But why did it have Chrollo all worked up? Why was he extremely bothered about it? Hell, where was that useless fiancé of yours, and why wasn’t he looking after you? Questions swirled in his mind, chaotic, and uncertain—now, Chrollo was really wondering why he was acting this way. In his twenty-six years of living, never had he felt this feeling before, it stemmed from his chest, blooming across his body, and consuming him in an unpleasant, foreign way.

The feeling stayed rooted inside even until reaching the estate where he stood guarding the door to your room.

Chrollo rubbed his forefinger, and thumb together while staring at the marbled tiles beneath his feet, it was past midnight now, and the only sound heard was the thumping of his own heart—the rhythmic beat that somewhat got louder with each passing minute.

He was soon reeled back into reality at the sound of the door opening behind him. Stepping out of your room, Chrollo watched as the darkness unclasped your body from its confines; he quickly averted his gaze at your vulnerable state—clad in a flimsy ivory nightgown that stopped just below the knees with satin ribbon straps comfortably sitting on your shoulders. He felt it was rather inappropriate seeing you in such an attire.

“Ahem. Anything you need, miss?” Chrollo coughed into his fist, staring at the darkness behind you instead of holding the gaze thrown his way.

Letting out a sigh, you replied, “I think I need to clear my head a bit . . Care to join me for a night drive? That way you’ll know my whereabouts.” The end of your sentence had a tinge of bitterness laced with it but Chrollo shrugged it off, it’d be no use trying to pick up where the two of you left off earlier.

“I take it as a yes, then? Meet me at the garage.” With that, you walked down the stairs, the thin fabric of your nightgown swaying with each step taken.

Chrollo quickly headed to the staff house to grab the keys to his assigned vehicle. Making his way to the door, he immediately stopped in his tracks as a sudden idea popped into mind—the gun hidden beneath his pillows.

Chrollo stared at his bed before swiftly lifting the ivory pillow, revealing a pistol given to him upon acquiring the bodyguard role. Without a word, he tucked it inside the holster beneath the obsidian blazer he donned, and walked out of the bedroom, heading for the garage.

Disappearing into the night, an odd feeling engulfed Chrollo—he wondered whether the gun on his hip portrayed him as your bodyguard or as your assassin.

Something he has never thought about before because it had always been the latter, regardless of the situation. Nonetheless, the weapon felt awfully heavy hanging onto him—as though it was a great burden that took an even greater effort to get rid of.

The drive was awkward, and there was no set destination; the only instruction you gave Chrollo was to keep driving, and he did, without questions asked. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the low humming of the engine which lulled you further into your thoughts, warm streetlights would illuminate the inside which allowed Chrollo to sneak brief glances at you through the rearview mirror. He didn’t want to pry but it was clear you were overwhelmed with a lot of things.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology caught Chrollo off guard, stone cold gaze looking through the mirror to meet your own for a split second. “Miss?” He furrowed his brows. “For earlier. I said some harsh words as well, and you were only doing your job. So, I apologise.” Now, it was your turn to steal glances through the rearview mirror. Chrollo’s expression remained unchanged—most likely trying to find an appropriate answer. 

He shook his head, fully aware you peered at him through the mirror, “It’s no big deal . . It wasn’t my place to raise my voice. As you said earlier, I’m just a bodyguard.” Chrollo’s eyes remained on the road ahead, enveloped by the night, he didn’t know why it suddenly became hard to glance through the mirror—maybe it was the unmistakable knowledge that you’d be staring straight back.

Was he nervous?

Impossible. There was no such emotion in his dictionary.

“It’s just—the whole announcing the marriage with Euan in front of all the guests stressed me out. The marriage is set in stone without my permission, and I just feel so helpless . .” You watched the outside view go by, dull colours of the night blending into a blurry haze.

“I know the arrangement has benefits. I know that.” It was directed more to yourself than Chrollo, as though some part of you agreed with the marriage.

“Euan is . . He’s sweet—a kind soul but I cannot see myself loving him, spending the rest of my life with him.” The assassin gripped the wheel a little tighter at the mention of your fiancé. “I don’t think anyone should ever go through that.” He cleared his throat, stealing another glance at you.

“You mentioned a while ago—” Chrollo spoke up, deciding to deviate the topic from Euan. “That the marriage would benefit the company ‘more security’ . .” He trailed off, realising how he’s prying but you didn’t seem to mind with how openly you replied.

“Long story short, my father had a very close friend—Mr. Driscoll—in the industry. It was later revealed that he was involved in money laundering so most of his assets came from illegal dealings. My father played a significant role in his arrest—basically, Driscoll was stupid enough to tell my father of his underground ties, urging him to do it as well. But my father had tipped the police instead. Naturally, his son, Ciaran Driscoll—who’s now the CEO of the company—saw us in a bad light, and it won’t take long until he makes my father pay for the damages done.”

“The arranged marriage with Euan would obviously combine our security team with theirs which would decrease the chances of Ciaran, and any other dangers from getting near my father, and I.”

Yet Chrollo was here—an assassin tasked to kill you—who easily took on the role of your personal bodyguard.

How ironic.

You really did need that extra security from the Hestons.

“Ciaran Driscoll?” Chrollo muttered the name under his breath which you quickly caught onto. “Yeah. Ciaran Driscoll from Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, you know him?” He wouldn’t necessarily say he knew him but Chrollo was awfully familiar with the name—familiar enough to conclude that Ciaran was the one who hired him to kill you.

Despite meeting at a deserted location back then—nowhere near that gave any hints of Ciaran’s real identity—one of his subordinates had addressed him by his last name which Chrollo immediately picked up.

The pieces fit flawlessly. It made sense for Ciaran to get revenge for Mr. Driscoll’s arrest by targeting what your father held most dear in his life—you. And for that to happen, Chrollo was the middle man, the one to fuel the chaos between two families.

If he got the job done.

“No.” Chrollo lied. “Just thought the last name rang a bell.”

“Understandable, they’re a household name. Well, it used to be.”

Short silence filled the vehicle yet again, both left to their own thoughts before you spoke up, albeit, it was more of thinking aloud, “I truly don’t know what I want in life.” Odd. Chrollo always thought that if one was wealthy, they’d be able to wish for anything, and everything yet somehow, even with all the gold in your hands, you were still lost.

Chrollo pitied you, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

Hell, he didn’t even know whether it was appropriate to reply. What did he know? He was someone born into poverty who didn’t have the luxury to question himself about what he wanted in life, just having to see another was already a blessing itself. Well, it wasn’t like the outcasts of society were given a choice on how to lead one’s life anyway.

The car fell in another silence but this time it was much longer, long enough for Chrollo to glance at the rearview mirror to see your eyes closed, and head leaning against the window, the rhythmic rise, and fall of your chest indicating the slumber you were in.

It was almost laughable how Chrollo was able to prove his theory right—that the rich were greedy for an even greater amount of money, the obvious example was the ex-CEO of Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, Ciaran’s father.

Chrollo’s grip on the wheel tightened, leather burning against his palms at the mere thought of dirty business. Illegal dealings. It was possible he had a hand in Sarasa's kidnapping. Mr. Driscoll didn’t belong in jail, no, he belonged before the barrel of Chrollo’s gun.

Taking another glance at your sleeping form, Chrollo quietly pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before twisting his torso to face you. Warm streetlights casted a gentle glow upon your features, piercing grey eyes carefully tracing each one as though you were a divine creature—otherworldly, and beautiful.

You looked so peaceful, and undisturbed. Vulnerable.

While his eyes remained on you, Chrollo slowly slid a hand inside his blazer, reaching for the gun affixed by his hip.

The assassin pulled it out, pointing the barrel to your head, the weapon cool against the warmth of his hand. In, and out, he drew steady breaths, forefinger hovering over the trigger—one pull, and it’d be over.

The problem was, Chrollo couldn’t do it.

He has pulled the trigger countless times as though it was second nature, so why couldn’t he do it now? He couldn’t even bring himself to let his digit touch it.

As you stirred in your sleep, Chrollo swiftly tucked the gun back in his holster, and faced forward. Shaky, uneven breaths slipped past his parted lips, the sound of his heartbeat clouding his senses.

Hands balling into fists, he wondered what had gotten into him, mind racing with a million thoughts as he drowned in pure uncertainty. Chrollo stared at his hands—the same hands that have spilled blood countless times, the same hands that killed without a second thought, the same hands that were tasked to murder you.

Yet here he was, unable to do so as if it were his first time.

“Chrollo?” You mumbled aloud. As you peeled your eyes open, you tried to register your surroundings. “Why did we stop? Is there something wrong?”

He cleared his throat, taking a quick glance through the rearview mirror before shaking his head, “No, miss. I just had to take a quick call, my apologies.” With that, Chrollo pulled away from the side of the road, taking you back to the estate.

The ride home was silent. Fortunately for Chrollo, this gave him the opportunity to calm his thoughts, and steady his growing breaths.

Obviously this has never happened before, especially while out on a mission; it made sense for the assassin to lose his cool a bit after hesitating. If anything, it was akin to a bird suddenly losing the ability to fly when flying was the only thing it knew. To make things worse, Chrollo had just broken the unspoken rule of the underworld—to never hesitate.

To the underworld, hesitating meant fragility, and fragility meant that the enemy had the upper hand. He was confused, and conflicted, more so upset at himself for being such a coward—why was he a coward?

After returning to the estate, you softly called out to Chrollo who was heading to the staff house, “Do you want to come inside?” All it took was that foreign look in your face for him to fully understand what you meant.

He didn’t have to assume anything—you’ve never looked at Chrollo with such a burning gaze, full of intent, and vulnerability. God, it was a brazen move to do so but you wished he agreed. All you needed was a little company at the moment.

Something in the air shifted. Maybe it was because you were both stripped of your layers, baring your defenceless forms out in the open. Maybe it was the way Chrollo’s rational thinking became compromised on the way home. Or maybe it was how you oddly felt comfortable around his presence, as though he was a lifelong friend.

Nonetheless, Chrollo found himself inside your bedroom, and as expected, it was grand, spacious, fit for a billionaire’s daughter. Sweet aroma of fresh chrysanthemum’s filled the air but it was nothing like he had remembered back in Meteor City which was laced with grief, and sorrow. Instead, it enveloped Chrollo in a warm welcoming hug, he could finally understand your interpretation of chrysanthemums—devoted love, and loyalty.

Moonlight spilled from the windows, illuminating the side of Chrollo’s face. He was just standing there yet he mirrored the divinity of an angel as soft shadows contoured his handsome face, dark eyes gleaming beneath the dulcet glow; you’ve never been able to decipher the emotions behind his gaze but tonight was different, his stare was soft mixed with hint of uncertainty; Chrollo wore his heart on his sleeves.

“Help me escape even for a little while.” 

Like the obedient bodyguard he was, he nodded. Chrollo took one step closer, reaching out a hand to gently undo one of the satin ribbon straps. The flimsy fabric gracefully slid off your right shoulder, just enough to expose your pert nipple. It hardened beneath the cool evening air which had Chrollo swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing with pure excitement, and hunger; oh, how he couldn’t wait to put his lips on your skin, and devour you.

Wasting no time to undo the other ribbon strap, your nightgown instantly fell to the carpeted floors, the fabric pooling around your feet, leaving you almost completely bare in front of Chrollo.

Your skin grew feverish beneath his observant stare as he traced every dip, and curve, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo’s lips were on your skin, palms finding home just above your waist; he placed gentle kisses down the side of your neck as though on a mission to mark you, pulling dainty gasps in the process.

You tasted absolutely divine—like a hopeful prayer between his lips, and he craved for more. Soft smacks slowly filled your ears as he praised you with kisses. Down, down, down Chrollo’s lips went before stopping at the junction of your neck, he gave the sensitive skin an experimental lick to which you responded with a heated gasp of his name.

Tilting your head to the side allowed more freedom for Chrollo to explore; hands coming up to tangle with his raven strands, and tug at it urged him to mark your skin with hues of dark purple, and red.

And he did. Gentle, wet kisses turned into rough, electric ones as Chrollo used both teeth, and tongue to nip, and suck at your skin.

“Chrollo—!” 

The assassin could only grunt in response as he carved himself onto your skin like knife on wood—over, and over again ‘til it left a lasting mark. And when you stare at these sinful hues in the mirror, you’d be reminded of the feel of his lips, how his kisses turned your legs into a wobbly mess, and mind into a lustful haze.

Embarrassing, warm wetness pooled on the fabric of your panties as Chrollo neared your breasts, you watched with a bated breath, and keen eyes as he wrapped his lips around a mound—the sinful sight of Chrollo trying to take in as much of it as he could had your legs buckling, you were sure to have met the floor if it weren’t for his firm hold.

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your nipple, teeth gently grazing the sensitive spot which sent lightning down the length of your spine.

Eager hands tugged at the roots of his obsidian strands, nails raking across his scalp; it was beyond lewd how you readily pushed your bare body into Chrollo’s face—a man you’ve only known for less than a month yet here he was, wicked lips made of fire against your naked skin that melted like ice.

A large hand snaked its way up your front, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and pausing just beneath the other breast before cupping it wholly—the heart of his palm rubbing against your sensitive nipple as he massaged, and toyed with the fat.

Without an ounce of shame left in inside you, you wantonly moaned his name at the feel of his lips, and hand making love to your chest, it had Chrollo twitching in his slacks but he paid no mind to it because tonight was about ravishing your body until no one else could compare—not even Euan Heston.

Chrollo didn’t know what this meant for the both of you after but that was okay because once the night ends, your body would crave for none but him, and only him.

Chrollo let go of your swollen, wet breast with a soft pop, he looked up through his lashes before licking his lips, as though he just devoured the tastiest meal of his life.

Working his way down your torso, he placed chaste kisses down the valley of your breasts, steadily sinking to his knees as he descended further, each passing second growing closer to your heat—where you needed him the most.

Before Chrollo could kiss the intimate spot just below your belly button, you cupped his face, making him look up at you with slight confusion,

“On the bed . .”

Three words was all he needed to understand before standing to his full height, “Jump.” Chrollo ordered. You didn’t need to be told twice before doing so, arms, and legs wrapping around him while he supported your weight.

As Chrollo sauntered to the bed, you used the time to eagerly explore the spot beneath his ear, using teeth, and tongue to suck at it which pulled a few soft sighs from him. His intoxicating scent filled your senses, the sweet minty aroma from chrysanthemums mixed with his musky perfume had you groaning into his skin.

He shuddered at the feeling, the tips of his fingers digging further into the fat of your ass.

Gently laying you down on the pillows beneath, he stared at the serene beauty before him, steely eyes drinking in your nakedness. Chrollo’s stare felt like you stood directly under the blazing sun on a summer day, igniting your skin to the core without anywhere to take cover but you liked it, you liked the feeling of his hungry stare, how he looked at you like fresh meat on a silver platter—a predator, and his prey.

As if to put on a show, Chrollo hastily shrugged off his blazer, mindlessly throwing it on the floor, leaving him with a white button down. He caught a glimpse of your lust-clouded gaze staring at the gun affixed to his hip to which he immediately removed by unclasping the holster.

The weapon landed on the floor with a heavy thud, you paid no mind to it but for Chrollo, it served as a harsh reminder of his real motive, and everything that would happen tonight was nothing but an insignificant moment in his life.

At least that's what he convinced himself this was.

The mattress groaned beneath Chrollo’s weight as he dipped down, wasting no time to connect his lips on your bare skin, and picking up where he left off—right below your belly button.

He kissed at it before wickedly pulling the waistband of your panties using his lips, and letting go of it to snap against your skin. A small gasp escaped your lips at the feel of the slight burning sensation which had you aching for more; it also didn’t help how his hot breath ghosted over the most intimate part of your body.

Though, before you could open your mouth, and beg, Chrollo hooked a forefinger around the waistband, and swiftly tugged it down the length of your legs, wet cunt squeezing at nothing as the cool air embraced its heat.  

Chrollo took his time to enjoy the bare sight before him by placing open-mouthed kisses dangerously near your sopping cunt—on your inner thighs, below your belly button, and the spot just above your clit. It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, fingers digging into the sheets beneath; what a wicked, wicked man, he hasn’t even properly touched you yet here you were, legs shaking from all the teasing.

Pride bloomed across his chest at the sight of you—the fucked out expression you donned, the heavy rise, and fall of your chest, and the dainty whimpers that filled the air.

Hooking his hands behind your knees, Chrollo gently pushed them towards your chest ‘til you were folded in half, glistening cunt deliciously exposed for him to devour.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips as Chrollo traced his tongue around the outside of your clit before laying the wet muscle flat against it. He expertly rubbed at the sensitive nub, lewd sounds mixed with your shameless moans engulfed his ears, encouraging him to further stimulate the spot.

Your hips bucked against his face, hands flying down to his hair as the electric sensation returned to your body, sending massive jolts of lightning down the curve of your spine.

“Chrollo, right there! Yes—haah!” You gasped as he switched to the tip of his tongue to lick at your clit. 

Chrollo placed his thumb, and forefinger on either side of your clit for better access before moving his tongue side-to-side, across the area beneath the clitoral hood, resulting in a broader stimulation that had you stiffening with pure pleasure.

Looking down at the sinful view between your legs, you let out a loud moan as Chrollo met your eyes through his hooded ones. Without a doubt, ecstasy slowly consumed both his body, and mind with how he subtly rocked his hips against the mattress—cock aching for any kind of contact but Chrollo had to focus more on holding your hips down while you unceremoniously thrashed around, trying to slow your impending orgasm.

As Chrollo continued his torture, it didn’t take long for you to let pleasure consume your body as a whole, and cum on his tongue.

He drank in your pleasured state—lips parted, brows furrowed, and back arched off the mattress; the orgasm that hit you was intense, as though your whole body has been electrified, and the only way to respond was by moaning his name like a sacred prayer in hopes you keep you grounded to reality.

Relishing the taste of your essence on his tongue, he closed his eyes, humming against your sensitive nub in complete satisfaction which had your legs shaking, and hands attempting to push his head away. He gave a few more gentle licks before pulling away, revealing his chin completely drenched in your filthy arousal—Chrollo paid no mind, simply bringing a hand up to his face to wipe at it.

You watched through a lustful haze as Chrollo finally worked on his shirt, each button undone growing closer, and closer to exposing the entirety of his torso.

As he shrugged the fabric off, you couldn’t help but reach out to touch his bare skin—it was pale, fascinatingly chiselled, and scarred; Chrollo’s torso was decorated with a few raised, discoloured patches here, and there indicating the rough past he had. He stared as you traced a scar with your forefinger—a ghostly touch that brought a shudder down his spine—but before you could move onto the next one, Chrollo gently grabbed your wrist, and brought it up to his face, placing a chaste kiss on the heart of your palm.

By no means was he insecure about those scars, in fact, he proudly wore them like a badge, to serve as a reminder that the rest of the world wasn’t his friend.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

The kiss from Chrollo was different—different from the one Euan had given you during the company event. Yes, the latter was full of sincerity but it didn’t bring warmth to your face like Chrollo’s one had.

Or maybe it was just because of how lost you were in pure lust, unable to decipher even the simplest feelings.

“Tonight is all about you.”

Chrollo shouldn’t be doing this, it goes against his beliefs, and goals—against the very reason why he turned into the person who he was right now.

Mingling with the wealthy, even going to an extent as to have sex with you, if his younger self saw him right now, he wouldn’t be able to believe it.

But what was it about you that had Chrollo rewriting his rules? Why was he so willing to throw away the deep rooted anger inside his heart to pleasure you?

Moreso, what did he gain from all this?—not money, not power, definitely not the justice he sought.

Nonetheless, Chrollo threw those thoughts in the moonlit window—he’d grab them again later at the crack of dawn while guilt eats him alive. Slowly, he dipped his hands below his torso, fumbling with the zipper of his slacks; Chrollo felt your heated stare on his crotch, how your short breaths quickened as he tantalisingly pulled the metal zip down, the sound echoed along with your breathing, allowing Chrollo to bask in your desperation.

You thanked the stars above as he bared himself without anymore teasing, articles of clothing that once hugged his body were now strewn across the floor of your room like unmended pieces of oneself.

Moonlight surrounded Chrollo like a serene aura, an angelic-like glow that had his skin radiating beneath the celestial gleam, turning his hair into the colour of the first starlight. It was hard to focus on his heavenly appearance when sin was right between his legs.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

No, god, no, just the thought of Chrollo completely leaving you high, and dry brought tears to your eyes. Shaking your head vigorously, he crawled atop your lust-fuelled body before placing a chaste kiss on your temple then onto your nose, trailing further down ‘til he reached the valley of your breasts. You let out a shudder as Chrollo lapped his way down, not forgetting to tease at your pebbled nipples by giving them a light nip.

“Chrollo, please . .” For once, this was different from what was usually thrown his way—most people begged for their lives as they stared down the barrel of his gun with pure horror in their eyes, lips disturbingly quivering as they pleaded during their last moments.

Wasting no time, Chrollo met your gaze once more, his face mere centimetres from yours. You gasped as his cockhead gently prodded at your entrance as he reached down between your bodies, he rubbed it a few more times, the sinful contact earning low grunts, and moans from both of you.

Chrollo connected his forehead with yours, damp obsidian hair ghosting over your warmed cheeks, holding it in a gentle caress

Letting out a shaky breath, his cock slowly pushed your folds apart as he inched in. Immediately, your legs curled around the dip of his bare waist, interlocking behind his lower back; your hasty movement jolted Chrollo forward which forced his cock further into the plush of your velvety walls.

He sighed, cursing the eye rolling pleasure sent his body into a pathetic tremble. Though, you were no better, clenching around Chrollo every time he pushed deeper—not only did it test his sanity but it also tested his patience.

He reminded himself a million times that simply fucking you like a mere cocksleeve was not his intention for tonight. Or ever. Rich or not, you were still a woman after all, one deserving of nothing but genuine pleasure.

As Chrollo bottomed out, he held your starry gaze, watching as your eyes glistened with tears—whether it was from the bliss his cock had you under or from sadness, he had no idea.

You felt so full, as though the gaping void inside you had been magically sealed—his cock sat there unmoving yet it hit all the right spots, the ones that had you trembling a little harder, and moaning a little louder.

Hot breaths mingled as the two of you let out heavy pants, he stilled inside your wet cunt, allowing both himself, and you to adjust to the feeling, “You’re so tight—fuck.” You gave your hips an experimental rut at his words which pulled a long hiss from him, brows furrowing together.

After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo slowly pulled out, the languid drag of his cock against the plush of your walls had you whining in the shape of his name. It went straight to his cock, twitching at the pornographic sound you let out—if you noticed, you didn’t let on, you were too focused on the way he moved inside you.

With only the tip remaining, Chrollo pushed his hips using the same pace; all the way until he disappeared in your folds once again, heavy balls kissing the skin of your ass.

You could feel the entirety of his length—every dip, and curve which had your legs shaking, and toes curling a little harder. Chrollo’s cock was slightly curved upward which allowed an easy reach to your sweet spot, and with every languid thrust he gave you, his cockhead kissed it repeatedly.

Hands that were pinned to the pillows were released as Chrollo brought a hand to caress your cheek while the other supported his weight. You leaned into his fiery touch, as if doing so was going to ground you from cloud nine. 

Setting a deep, slow pace, Chrollo’s face remained a breath away from yours—he kept eye contact, nothing but an endless pit of alluring onyx that pulled you further into the ocean of bliss. Every languid stroke pulled oxygen from your lungs, it had you desperately gasping for air, one which only Chrollo could quench by whispering sweet nothings mere inches from your parted lips.

Mixed with breathless sighs of pleasure was the soft creaking of the bed frame which sung in unison beneath the weight of your rocking bodies. The air grew impossibly thick, and hot allowing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to your bare back but you didn’t care, not when Chrollo fucked you into the mattress as if the sun was going to burn out tomorrow.

You pulled him closer, arms instinctively wrapping around his torso to decorate his back with crimson streaks.

The sharp sting of your nails fuelled Chrollo’s drive—he picked up the pace but remained bottoming out with every powerful thrust, causing your body to jolt in response.

You clung to him tighter, legs painfully locked behind his back as he did his best to move in, and out of your sopping cunt. You were close, and despite Chrollo taking you for the first time, he knew—he could feel your body stiffen with each passing second, the way your greedy cunt grew impossibly tighter, making it hard for him move, and not to mention your broken cries of his name so close to his ears that those were all he could hear.

“I’m so near—god, please don’t stop, Chrollo—!” You sounded so vulnerable, so bare it made his cock twitch.

Greed consuming his pleasured state, Chrollo wrapped an arm around your shoulders, deftly snaking it between the mattress, and your back. He pulled you closer, the weight of your limp torso straining against his curled limb while the other supported his own body.

Chrollo cradled your head with his palm, pushing your face closer to his ‘til the tip of his nose brushed your own. Oh, how tempted he was to kiss the very lips that cried out his name as if he were your saving grace—an angel with his hand stretched out to you.

Barely a whisper above the heavy breaths you exchanged, your name smoothly rolled off his tongue. It was the first time Chrollo did so, and god how addictive it sounded; you shuddered at it, his dulcet voice engulfing the entirety of your being right down to your very core.

“You’ve been so good, are you going to cum? To let go, for me?”

With the minute space left between the two of you, you vigorously nodded your head, too fucked to care about the desperation that seeped from your skin like sweat. Chrollo moaned at your wordless response, fingers slightly curling at the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp,

“Haah—! That’s right, give in to it.”

And you did.

With a final drive of his hips, you came undone—the pressure that’s been slowly building up finally bursting inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips, body arching closer to his as you let your orgasm take you beyond cloud nine.

As if you weren’t already breathless from panting like a whore, Chrollo greedily pressed his lips against your quivering ones to capture them in a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft, and sensual, like it was sculpted by the goddess of love herself. He greedily drank in every moan, and whimper you had to offer, claiming them as his own prized possession to keep. Chrollo’s pace faltered at the feel of your cum coating his cock in a warm embrace—a feeling he’s been deprived off, a feeling he didn’t know he needed.

Pulling away from the kiss, he spoke, breathless, “I’m close—fuck. Where do y—” “Inside.” Chrollo swallowed thickly with your legs tightening around him. It dizzied him, the thought of you so willing to let your insides be marked by him without a second thought.

A small gasp escaped you as he gently set you down onto the mattress, his cockhead brushing your sensitive spot. With his orgasm near, Chrollo dropped his body on top of your own, torsos flush against each other as he trapped you with his weight.

With his own pleasure in mind, Chrollo gave short, hasty thrusts, desperately rutting his hips to chase the growing bliss. The only option for you was to lay there, and moan his name from overstimulation; with his weight on yours, you couldn’t squirm your way out of the immense pleasure.

“I’m here—ngh! ‘M close.” Chrollo whispered into your ear, a hint of apology laced his tone, most likely from how overstimulated you were.

After a few more desperate thrusts, he stilled, sheathing his cock all the way inside your cunt, you felt him twitch before releasing his load with a low moan. 

Feeling his hot cum paint your walls white, you mirrored the sound he made. Loud, wet squelches filled the room as Chrollo rode out his high, effectively fucking his cum deeper.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, letting your bodies bathe in serene moonlight. You laid beneath him, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat pound away against his ribcage, it effectively lulled you to the borders of sleep, your heavy eyelids slowly closing in exhaustion.

Though, before you could fully close them, Chrollo rolled off your body with a soft grunt, his cock slipping out in the process. The loss of contact had you clenching around nothing at the feel of his cum slowly seeping out of your cunt. Before you could speak up, Chrollo beat you to it,

“I should go.” He cleared his throat, voice low, a hint of sadness laced in his tone. Though, you didn’t catch on. Chrollo quietly gathered his clothes, putting them on layer by layer until he was fully clothed. An indiscernible emotion washed over you as he made his way to the door, each quiet step taken tugging at an invisible string tangled in your heart. Oddly enough, it stung.

“Yeah . .” You nodded in a daze.

The lack of response from your end tore at Chrollo’s insides—it made sense, after all, he was nothing but a quick fuck, what did he expect? For you to convince him to stay the night? That was beyond delusional.

As Chrollo reached for the handle, you called his name out of instinct. His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, miss . . ?” He spoke your title in a small voice, unsure which name was appropriate in this situation.

“Thank you.”

That was all you could muster. What else was there anyway? Chrollo wasn’t a person you were supposed to be sleeping with in the first place, nor was he your lover who you could be intimate with after sex.

He was nothing but a bodyguard, and will remain your bodyguard. Whatever happened in this room was to be forgotten.

The sound of the door clicking reached your ears, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. His scent lingered in the air, becoming one with the sweet aroma of chrysanthemums.

Within the next coming days, you were right, and wrong. Right because in the face of others, the professional relationship between you, and Chrollo remained—a bodyguard, and his principal.

Wrong because stupidly enough, the both of you had not forgotten what happened a couple of nights back. The days were filled with stolen glances, and stuttering heartbeats, you couldn’t stand by idly while your heart yearned for your bodyguard.

At first, you convinced yourself that this feeling was purely lust-driven, it was only natural to seek out Chrollo’s presence after a night with him.

You believed it for a week.

One whole week until you felt your heart clenching at the sight of your bodyguard exchanging a conversation with one of the maids. Chrollo was all smiles, the kind that reached his eyes; the maid wasn’t any better, an obvious blush extending from her cheeks to her ears said it all.

He never smiled at you like that.

Why was he treating you—his boss—any different? Chrollo was always nonchalant with you, barely any words spoken yet here he was animatedly cracking jokes left, and right like he had some kind of alter ego. It pissed you off.

More so, being angry at the fact that Chrollo treated you differently upset you even more. At best, this was a trivial matter, something you shouldn’t even think about. 

But you couldn’t let go of it, not when he gazed at you the same way he had done so that night.

Within the next week, you’d realise that merely having Chrollo by your side wasn’t enough.

On Monday, you did your best to converse with him while buying chrysanthemums at the boutique, even going as far as giving him a flower from your bouquet, hoping that he’d think of you whenever he looked at it.

On Wednesday, instead of asking your personal assistant to grab your lunch, you took Chrollo instead, and headed out the office which gave you more alone time with him. 

And by Friday, you couldn’t take it anymore. You called Chrollo into your bedroom late at night after finding the courage to do so. Naturally, he stood inside as if he didn’t have you filling the room with your own moans two weeks ago.

The familiar sweet scent of chrysanthemums filled his lungs, taking him back to the pleasure-filled night with you. Chrollo pushed the thought down, deeming it extremely inappropriate, especially being alone with you like this, again.

He swallowed as you pat the empty spot next to you, your vulnerable state beckoning him to devour you. Who was he to deny himself of acting on his predatory instincts? 

“This is . . rather unprofessional, miss.”

That was the last thing he said before he found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, kissing you like he loved you. Did he? Large hands cupped your jaw, eagerly pulling you closer to his face. Even though Chrollo didn’t bare his heart, the zeal behind his kisses revealed the truth hidden in his chest.

Both lips fell into a unison, slotting into each other like they were made for one another. Before getting carried away, Chrollo pulled back, brows lifting in amusement as he watched the way your face leaned in, searching for his lips.

“What—What about Mr. Euan?” He asked, breathless, onyx strands dishevelled, courtesy of your wandering hands. 

You both knew you didn’t have feelings for Euan but saying it aloud wasn’t going to change the fact that a ring sat on your finger, it was far more complicated than that.

Lowering your gaze, you shrugged. Guilt picked at your skin, the thought of disrespecting Euan had you freezing in place. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying.” Chrollo whispered, hot breath fanning across your face. He tucked a strand behind your ear before sliding his digit down to your chin, lifting your face.

“Kiss me?”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

What the two of you had wasn’t exactly a relationship—beyond a professional relationship but less than a romantic one. But Chrollo cared for you all the same, even if it meant watching in the sidelines as Euan made his polite advances—kiss on your cheek, a hand on the small of your back, his fingers tucking stray hairs aside, Chrollo endured it all. Whether or not it affected him, he didn’t let on.

Instead, he returned affection tenfold in comparison to what Euan gave you. Your room had turned into a rendezvous—every night, behind its closed doors, Chrollo took you in his arms, and whisked you away from reality, from all the inhibitions you felt. And amidst all the meaningful conversations, the shared pleasure, the tears shed, a bond deeper than one could comprehend blossomed within these walls.

Chrollo became a rock you could lean on—a significant person you could be vulnerable with, and bare your heart on the table, unguarded. He listened to your problems, and silly thoughts with open arms, and ears, stroking your hair beneath the moonlight as the two of you lay underneath the ivory sheets.

With you, he was a completely different person, a person who he deserved to become. One that could relate to the little joys in life—whether it be chasing sunsets, dipping salty fries in vanilla ice cream or looking up at the night sky without any remorse in one's heart.

With you, Chrollo had a fleeting glimpse of the life he was robbed of because all he knew was how to survive for another day—how to kill swiftly, and effectively.

And he’d be reminded of all these when returned to his own quarters in the dead of the night. That the sole purpose of his arrangement in this estate was to take you out—not to nurture a bond with you, not to have sex with you, not to listen to all your thoughts, no. Chrollo was here as your assassin.

To hold you so gently in his hands knowing they would be the same ones covered in your blood. It was almost laughable, it surprised Chrollo how he—a person conditioned to destroy—was able to touch you with the utmost gentleness as if he’s never once tasted violence on his tongue.

Clearly, you both felt something for one another but acting on it was easier said than done—not to mention how this mission wasn’t supposed to end up like this, all tangled up in a web known as you. 

Did Chrollo love you? Truth be told, he didn’t know. He never had the privilege of experiencing what romantic love was. Wanting to be by your side was the only thing he was certain of.

Lying in bed, Chrollo looked over at his nightstand, it housed a singular piece of chrysanthemum soaked in a glass of water—one that you had given him earlier this week. Now, his room smelled just like yours, the flower’s sweet aroma lingering in the air.

It helped Chrollo sleep a little better; smelling its familiar scent tricked his mind into thinking he slept in your presence.

A little over a week.

That was how much time Chrollo had left to get the job done assigned by Ciaran. It wasn’t long, and he knew he had to make the decision soon but not before taking a gamble.

As Saturday arrived, you stuck to your routine as usual, the only difference was, the late night was spent driving around with Chrollo.

The atmosphere inside the vehicle grew thicker by the minute, he could tell something weighed your mind from the way you pursed your lips, and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. But of course, the ever polite man he was, he waited ‘til you opened up to him—Chrollo knew you like the back of his hand, whenever things bothered you to an extent, it didn’t take long for you to break.

“Can I tell you something?” You murmured above the hum of the engine. Staring to the side, you watched as Chrollo wordlessly nodded his head, stealing a brief glance your way before focusing on the wheel. He took notice of how you sat on the front passenger seat instead of your usual spot.

Looking out the window, you spoke up, “I . . don’t know how to deal with all this.” Chrollo remained silent, urging you to continue. “I’m going to be married to a man I don’t love, and I’ll be running a company I don’t want. And us. I want you, Chrollo, I really do but I . .”

Chrollo’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“Why don’t we just run away, and leave all this behind? We can build a new life together and—” 

“Is that what you want? To run away with me?” Chrollo cut you off. Coming to a full stop at the red lights, he turned to you, the seriousness in his expression made you somewhat nervous.

Would it be foolish of him to comfort you with words he partially meant?—words that would only hurt you in the end?

“I can give you that.”

At this point, Chrollo was lying to himself. To be so brazen, and accept running away with you knowing well enough his neck was chained to the underground—loyal to his roots.

Weighing the options, it was crystal clear that the odds were against the both of you. Of course, you didn’t know that, you had absolutely no idea Chrollo had underground ties nor was he assigned to kill you by none other than Ciaran.

Considering the latter’s involvement in underground business, you wouldn’t be the only one with a target on their back; it only made sense for Ciaran to put a hit on Chrollo as well for disobeying his orders if he were to consider running away. It would elicit a whole lot of enemies, and he couldn’t put you in a situation where he was willing to risk you dying in someone else’s hands. 

Living a life hiding from dangers of the world—that’s what you would have to go through if you, and Chrollo were to run away. Did you really deserve to live that way? Did you deserve to live in the conditions Chrollo tried to run away from?

The answer was more than obvious.

Obviously, a life with Euan benefitted you more—you’d have more stability, and security. Who was he to take away all those things from you?

Having never tasted something as sweet as this feeling with you, Chrollo found himself holding tighter rather than letting go, he fed on greed, and delusion. 

Truth be told, it tore him apart. A part of him cursed, and yelled at him for being so naïve, and easily moved by a woman he had only known for a month and a half—not to mention how he despised your kind.

The other part urged him to reach for the unthinkable, and build a new life he deserved, with you. Chrollo was ready to lay his weapon down if it meant being by your side ‘til the end of time.

Maybe in another life.

He knew he had to make a decision. Soon. Ciaran had been making calls to his burner more often than not, and he could sense the former’s patience growing thinner, and thinner as each day turned into night.

Whatever Chrollo’s decision was, he just hoped you’d still love him all the same—forgive him.

There was one crucial piece of information Chrollo had remembered. On Sundays, you dismissed all security staff that accompanied you, including the chauffeur, Lukas. This meant that for one day, you were completely unguarded, and alone.

Chrollo was unaware of the reason but it was obvious you wanted to experience a sense of independence one way or another.

Nonetheless, he managed to keep an eye on you by using an ample amount of distance—it was a piece of cake, after all, he tracked his targets in stealth mode for a living; akin to a predator sizing up its prey before sinking its canines.

Sundays weren’t particularly eventful, you spent the day alone running around swiping your credit card left, and right until it made you feel a tad better. So when Chrollo had ‘accidentally’ bumped into you at the parking lot, hidden from public cameras, he was aware of how effortless it was to whisk you away from the public.

“Chrollo? What brings you here?”

The bodyguard was dressed in his usual attire, a white button down neatly tucked beneath his black slacks, and this time, he didn’t wear a blazer.

“I figured you’d be here, miss. Something came up at the estate—you’re needed back home.” A lie.

Chrollo observed as the sparkle in your eyes drained at his words, genuine concern rolling in like grey clouds looming above on a stormy night. His heart clenched. Not in a good way. “Don’t worry, no one is hurt.” With his reassurance, your shoulders dropped with ease, the breath you’ve been holding slipped past your lips in a relieved sigh.

It pained the assassin how trusting you were, how easily one could play you into the palm of their hand the same way he did right now. Why?—why didn’t you question how effortlessly Chrollo pinpointed your exact location? The city was expansive, no normal person would be able to trace your steps unless they followed right from when you left the estate.

The vehicle was quiet, leaving room for Chrollo to notice the faint scent of chrysanthemums inside—it was your personal car, not the one Lukas used to drive you around hence the flowery aroma.

For some odd reason, the smell no longer comforted him the same way it did whenever he frequented your room. It made him nauseous. If Chrollo was to put it in words, the aroma smelled of sweet death, and it reminded him of the church back in Meteor City.

Consumed by concern, and lost in your own thoughts, you paid no attention to your surroundings outside, how it grew less, and less familiar with each kilometre driven by your bodyguard. You also didn’t notice Chrollo repeatedly stealing glances through the rearview mirror every now, and then, missing the way his steely gaze housed a hint of nervousness—an emotion he didn’t normally harbour.

Though, as you finally came to, you gazed out the window, eyes carefully scanning the fleeting hues outside as the car drove by. Soft colours of pinks, and oranges seeped through the glass which casted an ethereal glow inside, it hinted at the setting sun, and the darkness that loomed just around the corner. As your brain registered the foreign roads, confusion settled in, 

“Are we taking a detour, Chrollo?”

He wordlessly nodded. You mirrored his action in acknowledgement but the feeling of unease was oddly difficult to dismiss, especially with how deserted these roads were. The streets were decorated with construction sites, abandoned buildings, and old houses that were decorated with wooden planks to seal off windows, and entrances.

A weird feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You caught the way Chrollo’s stone cold gaze locked with yours for a split second but didn’t dare speak up.

Just as your heart started to race, the vehicle came to a halt, Chrollo had parked in front of an abandoned building—an old church, based on its architecture. Its unmistakable pointed roof aiming at the skies above, and stained glass windows marked with angels, and other holy beings said it all.

The building was surrounded by overgrown greenery, and wrecked furniture dumped on the side which hinted at years of apparent neglect. Its dressed stone walls were the epitome of sacrilege itself, littered with colourful vandalism from top to bottom; even just seeing it with your own eyes felt like a grave sin. A forbidden image.

“What—” “Get out.” Chrollo cut you off. For a tone so cold you could’ve swore a subtle shudder ran down the length of your spine. His stare met your own through the mirror for a second time and your heart sank all the way down to your stomach at how serious he was, dread slowly engulfing your body. What the hell was happening!? Why was Chrollo acting strangely?

“No.”

Chrollo turned to face you, still wearing that stoic expression. You felt small under his gaze, it almost felt predatory—no—not almost, it did; you didn’t want to admit but you caught a glimpse of the way his eyes sparkled with sharp, murderous intent.

Swallowing thickly, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant, albeit, it was more for yourself than for the man before you.

“Not until I get an answer. You mentioned something had come up at the estate, so why aren’t we—” “I lied.”

Before you could question his motives, Chrollo swiftly got out, the resounding thud as he shut the door closed had your body flinching a bit. You watched as he rounded the car, and made his way just before your door.

Opening it, a hand reached in for your wrist; gentle fingers curled around your skin as if you were a delicate flower—a daring contrast from the way his piercing gaze stabbed shards of unease throughout your body.

You pulled away, easily slipping off Chrollo’s placid grasp before helping yourself out of the vehicle. His hand curled into a loose fist as he watched you exit the car with an evident scowl on your face; funnily enough, Chrollo had the audacity to feel upset at the rejection. Never once have you denied his touch.

Crossing the narrow clearing that led to the unsealed church entrance, chunks of loose stone, and dirt moved beneath your steps; you stared at your feet as they navigated through the unstable terrain.

It was odd. Calm, and composed were the last two things you should be feeling in this situation, given the sudden shift in Chrollo’s demeanour, you were supposed to be fearing for your life right this instance despite your blindness to the hidden danger that lay ahead.

Chrollo . . He would never do that to you, right? Upon taking the job, he swore to protect you. But your better judgement screamed at all the glaring crimson coloured flags—an abandoned church in a deserted neighbourhood? It was the perfect set up for heinous crimes.

Out of instinct, you scanned the layout of the building from where you stood, if it came down to it, there was only one viable escape route which was through the main entrance of the church, the one Chrollo pulled open.

By now, the sun had fully disappeared below the horizon, and the colourful remnants the burning star left in its wake slowly faded into deep hues of night azure. Strangely, this end of the town harboured harsher winds with a freezing bite that had you rubbing your arms over the sleeves of your top.

A heavy groan sounded from the mahogany doors, it cut through the wind’s endless howl as it danced with the leaves, and through the sharp branches, interlocking trees in a soft sway.

A chill ran down your spine at the loudness of it. The doors parted revealing a view you’d expect in an old abandoned church—disorganised pews to create a spacing in the middle, antique chandeliers affixed to the high ceiling covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs, and trash scattered across its marbled floors; by the state of the inside, squatters most likely frequented the building due to its unsealed entrance.

The inside was dimly lit from street lights outside, it poured through the stained glass windows which allowed a deep scarlet glow to illuminate the building. Chrollo stepped inside, the soles of his obsidian dress shoes quietly clicked with every calculated step further into the church.

Foolishly enough, you followed as though a crimson string bound yourself to his—he was acting strangely, and the most appropriate approach as of now was to question his behaviour, and the bizarreness of the situation. Walking away would only prove useless with how far he has driven, and he had your car keys; at best, you could only cooperate.

“Chrollo, will you please tell me what’s going on?” You navigated inside the old building, the scent of mildew, and rotten wood lingered in the damp air, it captured your senses in a tight hold.

Ruby bounced off Chrollo’s inky strands as he stood at the heart of the church, right beneath the stained windows with divine beings. It turned his pale skin into an angry red, and you wondered if that’s what he felt right this very moment, clearly you weren’t far off with how he pierced your soul earlier.

He turned to face you, “I’m doing this for your sake.” For the first time today, emotion seeped through the cracks of his nonchalance. 

Chrollo looked almost sad, you weren’t entirely sure given the lack of lighting but the unmistakable glint behind those obsidian eyes was anything but foreign. For a split second, it was the same Chrollo that spent countless nights in your bedroom; not as your bodyguard, not as anyone else but simply as Chrollo—your Chrollo.

“For my sake? What the hell are you talking about, Chrollo?” Like the vermillion glow that bounced off your skin as you stepped closer, anger slowly bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Chrollo was nothing but cryptic with his responses, and you couldn’t wrap your head around any of them! He had always been a straightforward person, sometimes blunt, so why was he holding back now?

Standing beneath the scarlet light softly illuminated your features, Chrollo thought you looked exquisite bathed in the brilliance of red. Even with a tinge of doubt, and anger in your eyes, you were filled with love the same way the colour kissed every part of your skin.

“An escape from all this . . That’s what you want, right?” With his right hand, Chrollo reached inside his pocket, it took you a few seconds to identify the item in his hand—a gun.

With the way it’s unmistakable silver glistened beneath the dim lighting, you could tell it was a weapon of his own; not the ones registered under your father’s name. You stiffened, and your body ran cold, gaze met with the barrel of his gun.

“Chrollo?” Barely a whisper, you called out his name above the thick atmosphere, each second spent inside it had you desperately gasping for air; whether it be from nervousness or confusion, you didn’t care to find out.

He swallowed thickly, fingers curling tighter around the handle of his gun, trying to ignore the way your desperate plea violently struck a chord in his heart.

“Chrollo please put the gun down! You’re out of your mind!” Panic surged from head to toe, it came in vicious waves, scratching, and gnawing at your bare skin like a vehement beast. Chrollo tried to ignore the apparent tremble in your voice, he couldn’t afford to mess this up.

“Yes, I want to escape—with you. Why are you doing this to me, Chrollo? Why do you want me dead?!”

The third time his name rolled off your tongue, he was ready to throw the gun across the room, and cradle you in his arms while whispering apologetic nothings in your ear.

But he didn’t.

Chrollo stayed rooted in his spot, gun aimed at you, “Remember Ciaran Driscoll?—” You furrowed your brows. Ciaran? “He paid me to kill you.” A shaky breath, that was all you could muster, your mind was too busy trying to piece everything together.

Ciaran. Chrollo. Kill. Your blood ran cold.

But Chrollo didn’t give you time to breathe, steady clicks of his shoes echoed throughout the church as he paced back, and forth, “I was elated when I agreed to his proposal. Why? Because a pompous soul dying by my hands is what I’m made for—” He was calm, and collected, a faint smile displayed on his face as he slowly walked towards you. “Did you know what your people did? To my home? To my friend?” Stopping just before you, Chrollo leaned in, obsidian gaze piercing right through you.

“A lot of you treated Meteor City like some kind of hunting ground at your disposal. As if—as if its inhabitants were nothing but mere animals. For what? The sake of illegal dealings? For more money? Power?”

Chrollo caressed the side of your face with the back of his left hand—the other remained motionless by his side—his ghostly touch trembled against your skin, afraid that if he pressed down any further, you’d crack.

The situation baffled you. Not only was Chrollo blaming you for the atrocities caused by other people, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he was in cahoots with Ciaran Driscoll to orchestrate your demise.

Is that why Chrollo applied to become your bodyguard? To get close before finally killing you off? You felt another wave of dread wash over you. Everything felt numb, your limbs, your torso, your heart.

Shaking your head, you finally broke the silence with a trembling voice, tears threatening to spill out,  “I’m not involved in any of those, Chrollo. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

He did. God. He fucking did and he felt absolutely foolish for blaming you. After you had bared your soul to him every night, Chrollo stopped seeing you in the same light as he did before. Yes, his deep-rooted disdain never left but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of loving you; it was a battle between desire and duty, and he already knew the victor.

The determination in your eyes, you were set on running away from the current life you had, and as tempting as that was, he didn’t have the courage to lead you into a new life full of nothing but danger.

Chrollo would rather have you dying by his own bloodied hands—for him to live each day filled with regret—than have someone else basking in the glory of killing you. At least that way, he’d be tainted by you.

“You’re all the same. Ciaran’s father is proof enough! You said it yourself that he was involved in illegal business—”

“So those nights we spent together . . were they just all part of the act? You never cared for me.” Chrollo barely caught the last part of your sentence as you muttered it under your breath; he watched as your gaze lowered, a wave of sadness engulfing you for a split second before finding his eyes once again. This time, you wore a glare.

You straightened up, “Tell me, Chrollo. Was it all just an act? A show you put on just to get close to me?” Questions lingered in the air the same way dust did, it sat heavy on Chrollo’s shoulders but he remained stubborn—silent. Would his answer change the circumstances? No.

After all, nothing good came out of trivial matters. At his stillness, you grabbed his right hand, trembling fingers curling around the shaft of his wrist as you brought it up to your face, pressing the barrel of his gun to your forehead. It felt icy against your feverish skin, like the kiss of a grim reaper.

Ever so slightly, Chrollo’s brows rose in shock, breath hitching at your brazenness. “Did you ever love me?” A broken whisper spoken into the crimson-lit night, so dainty, so weak yet it pierced his heart without a second thought. It left a gaping hole, as ugly as sin, and no amount of repentance could heal.

Love. How would one define love? Was it the act of sacrificing someone dear to oneself? Chrollo didn’t know. But more importantly, how did you define love?

“Did you?”

Digging deeper into the subject would only lead to the grave of his heart but Chrollo couldn’t care less, it was already six feet under since the day he sought revenge for his friend.

With a heavy sigh, your eyes finally softened, “Of course. I still do.” You felt his hand twitch in your hold, as if he briefly tried to pull the gun away.

Glimmering like the first starlight were tears staining your cheeks, one by one they fell down as a surge of emotions drowned your body; your brows were furrowed yet your eyes looked at Chrollo like he held the cosmos in his hands.

Is this what was meant when they said love and anger were painted in the same shade of red?

In his line of work, Chrollo has never seen anything as haunting as your gaze. It was natural for his targets to look up at him in complete horror, tears welled up in their eyes as they begged him to spare their lives but you—your eyes were full of nothing but love, and adoration despite his gun pointed at you. That look alone was enough to torment his coming days.

“Do you, Chrollo? Do you love me?” His chest tightened at the hopeful glint in your eye. Nothing good ever came out of trivial matters because at the end of the day, Chrollo was nothing but a man chained to his sinful revenge—blindly devoted to the hatred planted in his heart, and it came with a great price.

A sudden wave of red washed over his body, resulting in an ear splitting bang that resounded within the church’s bricked walls. Chrollo flinched at the sound—he’s never done that before—followed by a heavy thud against the marbled floors. It took the assassin one, two, three seconds to register the situation, the violent sensation of the gun’s recoil still fresh on his trembling hand.

The faint scent of iron hung in the air.

Chrollo looked down at the grisly sight before him, gun in his hand weighing heavy before it finally slipped from his absent grip. The weapon fell beside his right foot.

For the first time, Chrollo Lucilfer—the bringer of death—weeped, and mourned the demise of his target. He wailed into the darkness as warm crimson slowly pooled around your head, it resembled a faux halo, a tainted fallen angel.

Broken sobs, and ugly cries filled the damp building—this was the first in a long time that he had heard the sounds of his own grief. Guilt, and sorrow consumed Chrollo the same way the shadows of the night did but no amount of tears would bring you back to life, no amount of whispered I love you’s would reciprocate his words, no amount of cracks in his heart would turn back time.

You were dead, and it was all because of the man you loved so blindly. ‘Til your dying breath, you were shielded from the secrets of his true identity, and feelings, ones he swore he would take to the very grave he dug.

Chrollo fell to his knees, his fingers dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The vile pungence of your blood suffocated his senses, despite something so familiar to him, Chrollo heaved and curled over himself, quivering like an autumn leaf in the wind—he looked pathetic; hot tears and snot covered his reddened face as he cried out into darkness.

Every bit of air left his lungs and each breath felt like a chase he couldn’t win. Truth be told, he didn’t have the courage to reach out to your body, no, he didn’t feel like he deserved to do so.

To taint you more than he already had. So, Chrollo didn’t, instead, he weeped until the moon decorated the obsidian skies, until his tears tried, until your body ran cold, and every bit of colour you wore was gone. 

And when the assassin finally pieced himself together, he did three things.

One, let Ciaran Driscoll know that the job had been done using a burner phone.

Two, with the same device, Chrollo called the police, brazenly letting them know he murdered someone, and the exact location of the crime scene.

Three, he covered your car in flames, and fed the burner phone into it; he watched as bright hues of oranges and yellows devoured the vehicle before doing what he did best: disappearing into the night, and becoming one with the shadows to never be found again.

The night before, he had quietly handed in his resignation to Lukas who gave him an appreciative pat on the back, the old timer parted with words that Chrollo knew would remain ingrained in his mind, ‘I’m quite sure the young miss appreciated your service. Thank you for taking care of her.’ 

His heart shouldn’t have clenched at that but it did, and painfully so.

The coming days blended into nights with Chrollo sitting inside his hideout—a dingy, rundown motel with paper thin walls that housed interesting individuals. Completely unaware of the time, his only company was the ticking ivory wall clock above the cramped dining space.

The hefty payment from Ciaran lay untouched on the bed, concealed within a briefcase. He didn’t eat nor drink, not even having the energy to step outside for occasional sunlight, and every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the look you gave him during your final moments, he remembered the metallic tang in the air.

The old chunky television situated atop a rusty console table was what kept Chrollo’s sanity intact.

Day to night, it blasted morning, afternoon, and evening news—to the point of fellow motel goers knocking at his door to complain about the noise—just to keep up with information about you. As much as Chrollo yearned to bask in the memory of you, seeing your face plastered on television followed by a variety of words such as ‘rest in peace’, ‘murdered’, ‘assassinated’, and ‘dead’ didn’t help his mind at all.

At least what kept him entertained were the updates on potential suspects that may be tied to the crime scene; the murder weapon was an unregistered gun loaded with an unregistered bullet, and the footprints left at the scene had no unique tread.

So at best, there were no concrete leads in the case.

Not that it mattered to Chrollo.

Atop the cheap wooden table on which he sat were two things, the murder weapon and a singular stem of a white chrysanthemum. The one you had given him from your bouquet. Chrollo let the flower sit there for days on end until its ivory petals shrivelled into a brown hue—its sweet aroma turning pungent.

Until it withered. 

Until the scent of death choked him the same way his cries did that night—a mockery of what was lost, of what he willingly destroyed.

One month. It took Chrollo a month to finally step into the day, and out of the drab motel room. Brightness engulfed his vision, the sun’s afternoon rays shone as brightly as ever, enveloping him in a warm, gentle hug as if to welcome him back to reality.

He was certain he didn’t deserve kindness from this world, not even the permission to step foot in the very earth that held your body dearly in its grasp as though you were its prized possession.

Oddly enough, Chrollo found himself standing before a familiar flower boutique. With his gaze locked onto the floor-to-ceiling windows, he looked around the inside, as if doing so was going to have you magically pop out of nowhere, and buy a dozen of white chrysanthemums like before.

But you didn’t.

Pulled from his thoughts, a recognizable voice filled his ears, it was the owner, “Are you here to buy flowers for a lover, perhaps? I can recommend a few—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, realising the familiar face that stood before her. Chrollo watched as her face morphed into a sad smile, the cheery glint in her eyes disappearing beneath the thickness of her lashes,

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re her bodyguard, right?” He inhaled a sharp breath at the mention of you, heart violently thumping against the confines of his chest. Chrollo could only nod, anything more than that would have him breaking.

The old lady reached out her plump hand, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I’m so sorry for your loss. She was lovely—”

Don’t say that. Don’t say it to me like I’m not the cause of her death. Don’t say it to me like I should be mourning for someone who died by my hands.

Chrollo gritted his teeth, jaw clenching at the sympathy thrown his way. He felt sick and disgusted with himself—as if he were a vile being trapped beneath human skin. All of a sudden the sun rays that gently enveloped his body didn’t feel like a warm hug anymore, sharp, hot prickles spread throughout his clothed skin, leaving a painful itch.

“—and the only customer who bought chrysanthemums frequently. Others usually bought the flowers once or twice for funerals and death anniversaries; she was the only one who truly saw chrysanthemums in a different light.”

A symbol of devoted love and loyalty, that’s how you saw them.

How ironic that the flowers you once adored would be laid upon your grave, holding a completely different message; mourning and grief. That didn’t sit well with Chrollo, you loved white chrysanthemums but not for that reason.

“Apologies, I ramble too much.” The owner let out a polite chuckle before continuing. “Well, can I at least interest you in some flowers? What would it be for you?”

“Can I get a dozen of those?” Chrollo pointed at the lively bunch soaked in water, situated just beside the boutique’s entrance. Following his finger, she looked behind her and smiled, “Right away.”

Its petals resembled rays of the first sunshine, the golden hue it wore promised eternal warmth even after death.

As day turned into night with the crescent moon high above the obsidian skies, Chrollo made his way to your perpetual resting place—it didn’t take much effort to do some digging around to find out where your body had been buried.

The chilly wind howled as it danced with the dark, trees and leaves swaying to accompany it with a silent song. He walked down the moonlit path of the cemetery, land that outstretched before him was decorated with tombstones, and in his left hand was the bouquet he bought earlier.

Moonlight shone over your grave as if the moon herself knew the secrets shared between you and Chrollo on cloudless nights. Bouquets of white chrysanthemums decorated the space around your grave, candles that were once lit rested atop the marbled tombstone that housed your full name.

Oddly enough, this felt like déjà vu. Maybe it was due to the fact that you and Chrollo rendezvoused in your room the same way he visited your grave—under a lonely moonlit night where soft whispers, and beating hearts were heard.

Bending down, Chrollo lightly caressed your carved name, cleaning out stray pieces of grass and dirt blown by the wind. He gently placed the bouquet amongst the sea of white, its colourful hue greedily taking all the limelight from the sombre flowers,

“I know these aren’t your favourite but I figured you’d like them too . .” He paused for a moment, foolishly waiting for you to reply.

“. . Yellow chrysanthemums just like the white ones but—” Who was he kidding? Chrollo felt stupid. Talking to your grave as if you were alive—as if he wasn’t the one who brought you to your demise.

The audacity he had.

Truth be told, every fibre inside his body screamed at him to turn back, and never show his disgusting self but Chrollo was as greedy as the darkness that drank the moonlight each night.

He envied the ground like sin, how held you in its arms, cradling your rotting body in its eternal embrace. It should be him. Now, he’d have to remember you longer than he had known you.

Instead, Chrollo was six feet above—alive; tied to, and haunted by the shackles of foolish regret. The memory of that night replayed in his mind over and over again like a cursed broken record, the disgusting thump as your lifeless body hit the floor, blood pooling around your head.

Most nights he’d find himself calling your name in his sleep—he always dreamt of the same dream: you, running away from him in a field of flowers, no matter how hard he worked his legs, he never seemed to reach your body. 

Chrollo sat before your grave and sobbed, letting creatures of the night feel his vulnerability; as the wind howled, the breeze carried the sounds of his cries to the trees, where it promised him to keep it a secret—a story only reserved for the dead.

Hot tears rolled down his frost-bitten cheeks, pooling on the tip of his chin before it fell on the damp grass beneath.

In antique texts, yellow chrysanthemums represented one’s heart left to desolation. Neglected love. It was only befitting for he has killed the very person who grew to love his blood-stained soul because in the end, he was nothing but a man only adept at destroying.

He let out shaky exhale, and whispered into the night the answer you sought, 

“I love you.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[roses-r-rosie3]

Hey soo angst right?

So Miguel x male reader where they have a fight because of miles and miguel just gets really angry and says and or does something that hurts the reader. The reader isn't a spider person but is still important to tge universe. Because of the fight the reader decides to leave because he does want to deal with miguel anymore, and he dicise to just help miles and all

You can end it with fluff or angst, whatever you want :)

Put It Straight

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

[Part 2]

Warnings: angst and swearing

Quote: “This is none of your business! So just go home!”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y/n was one the few non-spider people working at the spider society. He worked as Miguel’s right hand man because Miguel couldn’t stand leaving y/n alone by himself and because they were dating.

It was a “normal” day in the beginning, but Miguel went off to a meeting, while y/n was on his break. But all of a sudden an alarm went off and everyone got an alert to go after Miles. Y/n knew about the kid, Gwen talked about him all the time. Y/n would occasionally tease her about it.

There were hundreds of different variants of Spider-Man chasing Miles, but one stood out from the rest, Miguel. Miguel seemed ruthless, like he wanted to kill the kid, and y/n was concerned. But what made y/n snap was when Miguel sent Gwen back to her universe.

When Miguel turned around, he saw a fuming y/n.

“Miguel what the fuck was that!” Yelled y/n.

Y/n was one of the only people who could yell at Miguel like that. If anyone else dared to talk to Miguel that way, they were bound to either be dead or in the Er.

“Baby, Not now” Miguel Said.

He was clearly frustrated but didn’t want to yell at y/n.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Not now? You just sent the kid home, where her own father is trying to arrest her! And you see nothing wrong with that!” Y/n yelled.

“Y/n you don’t get it” Miguel said.

“I don’t get it!? First you chased Miles throughout the whole city! And now you sent Gwen home where she could possibly be in danger!” Y/n said.

“He wasn’t supposed to even be here! Because of him, the universe could be destroyed! He found out that his dad was going to die! So he tried to prevent that! He could have destroyed the universe! And for Gwen, she is the whole reason why he is even here to begin with! There! You happy?!” Miguel snapped in anger.

“So you’re saying that he is trying to prevent his dad from dying and you’re trying to stop him?!” Y/n yelled with just as much anger.

“It has happened to all of us! And it’s the consequences of his actions! If he hadn’t followed Gwen then all of this wouldn’t have happened!” Miguel yelled.

“So you’re just going to let the kid’s dad die?! Hasn’t he been through enough, he had to watch his uncle die and now you want him to watch his dad die too?!” Y/n said.

“This is none of your business! So just go home!” Miguel said.

“Weren’t you the one begging for me to come here to work with you? And now it’s none of my business!” Y/n said.

“Y/n- watch who you’re talking to like that, don’t think for one second that I won’t-”

“You won’t what Miguel O’Hara?! I tried, I really tried to understand why you acted like this! I’m sorry, but I’m leaving to go help the kid” Y/n said as he walked away.

“And how exactly do you plan on traveling other universes? You don’t even have a watch!” Miguel said.

“With this” y/n held out a watch while still walking.

Miguel immediately looked at his wrist and noticed that his watch was gone, and started to look y/n and realized y/n took his watch as y/n opened a portal.

“Y/n don’t! You could get killed!” Miguel yelled.

Y/n turned to look back at Miguel one last time with tears in his eyes.

“I love you Miguel” y/n said as he walked inside of the portal.

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Edit]: I'm considering making a part 2 if there is a lot of demand for it

[agoodroughandtumble]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader - I Didn't Need Saving Part 2

Status: Incomplete Summary: Reader is hurt after battling with the marines Warnings: 18+. Language, injury, implied violence (in keeping with the show)

It wasn’t Zoro’s proudest moment, walking away from you. Not when you were injured, not when you were looking at him so desperately. Not when the entire situation was a direct consequence of his actions. You had saved his life, thrown him away from a danger his arrogance hadn’t even registered. And now you were beaten and broken all because of the misguided assumption that somehow his life was more precious than your own.

Fuck he hated you. Hated that you could so casually throw away everything, hated that you were so stupid enough to think that it would be possible for him to carry on without you.

He didn’t know what love was but if it was self-loathing and guilt at your expense he had that in abundance. If it was the way your smile made his heart leap, the overwhelming urge to be close to you, to be good enough for you, to rip open his chest and let you make yourself a home there, well, then he was fucked beyond all reprieve.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was the worst thing. Either way, he wasn’t going to risk being alone with you again. At least he could be certain of that.

Two days later he was stood outside your door. Pacing. Nami had said you had been asking for him. That meant one of two things: Nami was tired of covering his shifts so was passing on the buck, or you actually wanted to see him. Which, after how he left you, was not something he was particularly looking forward to. Unfortunately, you were a request he was fundamentally unable to refuse – even if he had actually wanted to.

Hence his pacing.

The irony was not lost on Zoro. The Demon Pirate Hunter was scared of a girl with a hole in her side. But scared of what he wasn’t quite sure. Scared you would yell at him, or be disappointed, angry, spit venom at him again. But what if you didn’t. What if he allowed himself to consider the possibility that you felt a fraction of what he felt? What if you had saved his life because it was him and not because he was a crew member and you were clearly an idiot with a death wish.

Guilt prickled its way up his spine. He was, at least, going to have to acknowledge you at some point. He knocked on the door frame – the door being open in case of an emergency, but he had deliberately been pacing out of sight.

No answer.

Fine. Good. He could leave now – tell Nami he tried but you weren’t up for seeing anyone.

He made it two steps.

Fuck.

Zoro turned around and walked into the room with the determination that only someone who nearly lost it all could have. He’d come this far.

“Come to kill me then?” There was humour in your voice, albeit laced with sarcasm.

He let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you weren’t that pissed off with him. “Only if you pull a stunt like that again.”

You shuffled under the covers and he couldn’t help but be grateful at the ease with which you seemed to move. “I’m promising nothing.”

“Yes you are.”

His sudden serious tone caught you off guard and you hoisted yourself onto your elbows, and although Zoro would rather you didn’t exert yourself he was glad to see you moving without wincing.

You looked at him expectantly, “What am I promising?”

He slumped onto the chair Nami had placed at your bedside and rested his swords against the wall by the headboard next to you. “You’re promising not to leave me.”

You rolled your eyes. The nonchalance with which he spoke failing to convey his meaning until it was too late. “I didn’t leave y- … oh.”

Once again, Zoro felt the familiar rising of guilt starting at the base of his spine, slowly traversing upwards as he watched a thousand expressions cross your face, felt the weight of a thousand unspoken promises embedded in his shoulders. When he looked down at you it was nigh on impossible to say anything that wasn’t his hopeful heart trying to meet yours. He cast his gaze very firmly on anything, everything that was decidedly not you. Anything but you. “A swordsman is no swordsman if he can’t protect his friends.”

Your face dropped only a fraction of a second sooner than his heart. “Well I’m glad we’re friends.”

Zoro searched for some sarcasm only to be met with something else. It was a rare shade on you – embarrassment - and one he didn’t much care for. He sighed. Somehow he had already managed to make things worse. Not for the first time, he wished he could be someone else for you. Someone better. Someone like Luffy with his endless optimism to put a smile on your face, someone like Usopp to take you on an adventure with his fantastical tales. Hell, even someone like that shitty cook who never had any inhibitions when professing his undying love to whichever woman was the latest to catch his eye. But he was Zoro. And apparently that meant all he was good for was failing you.

Failure was not something he was accustomed to. His whole life was built around striving for perfection – whether that was through swordsmanship or being first mate. Failure seeped into his bones, became an obsession, clawing at him. And here you were, unbeknownst and unapologetic. Seeped into his bones. Carving your way into his soul as if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if you had belonged there all along. But you were friends. Because Zoro had failed. Again.

He really should have brought some sake with him. The look of uncertainty, the way you pulled the covers to try to hide as much as yourself as possible, make yourself smaller would be much easier to swallow washed down with alcohol.

He wanted to reach a hand out, rub a reassuring thumb across your cheek. To tell you he was being an arsehole – to somehow articulate that the feeling of hope of reciprocation your actions had arisen in him could in no way compare to the fear of losing you. He wanted to tell you he wasn’t worthy of such an act – and he was so, so angry that you would rather he lost his soul, his heart, his only chance at true happiness over his life. He could happily, willingly, die a thousand deaths if you lived. But if you died. If you left him devoid of all hope and salvation, he could certainly learn how to hate you then.

“I should go.” It was almost a question but one he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Zoro watched as you shuffled further into the covers – protecting yourself. He should be protecting you. He should be holding you in his arms. He should be doing everything and more. But he wasn’t. He was walking out of the door before you could respond. He was failing.

[seniaasaysstuff]

BRAT; Ryomen Sukuna x fem!Itadori Reader. (Soulmate au)

This is a sukuna x fem itadori reader wip. I thought a soulmate au with sukuna possessing you would be an interesting idea haha. It has some cracky undertones.

Yuji is your twin brother but you ate the cursed finger instead.

Would you like to read more of it? Let me know!

Sukuna had been waiting his entire life for you, his soulmate. From the time he learned about soulmates, he was obsessed with the idea of meeting you.

He didn’t quite understand what the words on his wrist meant but he adored him. “Holy fuck you’re hot.” were illuminated on his wrist. He reasoned that maybe it was some other language. He always ran his fingers on the words, tracing them gently whenever he felt sad or angry. It was his only solace in this cruel world.

He didn’t care about the abuse he received from his parents nor did he care about how the villagers treated him.

You were the only thing on his mind. His mind was always wandering around thinking of you. He wondered about what you looked like, how you were doing, if you thought about him as much as he did.

He wished you would just come and save him from the hellish life he was living. He was at a point in his life where he was weak and he wasn’t able to do anything to protect himself.

He trained everyday on his techniques, worked on building muscles and just becoming strong. He got strong and eventually became the strongest sorcerer alive so that he could protect you.

He waited and waited and waited for you to show up one day. But you never showed up. Sukuna felt gutted. He was so filled with grief and sadness that he went mad.

He slaughtered numerous people. It didn’t matter who it was, men or women he killed them all. He didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. He just wanted to meet you.

A time came when he had to be killed. His only regret was that he never got to meet you. His fingers became a cursed object and were sealed away.

In the 21 century, there you were. Itadori y/n, Yuji Itadori’s twin sister.

You were a bubbly child, always happy and just rambling all the time. It didn’t matter who it was, the moment someone talked to you? You went off on tangents about anything and everything. You had never-ending topics and facts and the urge to never shut up.

Your twin, Yuji, was constantly annoyed with your incessant talking but it was also one of the things that he loved about you.

When you found out about soulmates you were amazed by the notion of it. Someone that was going to love you no matter what.

The words written on your wrist were embarrassing and in some ways endearing to you.

The words “I finally found you huh? My brat.” adorned on your wrist. You figured your soulmate was quite a grumpy person that was like an old soul.

You daydreamed about your soulmate all the time. You wondered about what he was like. You eagerly wished to meet him.

————————————————————————

You and Yuji were on your way to the hospital. You both had brought a beautiful bouquet for your Grandpa Saitou. To others he may seem like a rude old man, he literally was but he was so much more than that. He was like your father. He had single-handedly raised you and yuji and loved you both immensely.

You walked inside the hospital room and rushed up to your grandpa Saitou and hugged him. “Grandpa! I missed you.”

Now Grandpa had a soft spot for you. You reminded him of his son, Itadori Jin. Over the years he had fondly spoken about the similarities between you.

“I joined a club with Yuji today!” “Oh really? Tell me all about it.” your grandpa replied with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He was the only one alongside Yuji who loved hearing you talk.

“Yuji? Why am I hearing just now that you joined the occult club?” Grandpa now turned towards Yuji who was placing the flowers in the vase.

“Uh, you know how she is. I am not going to leave her alone.” Yuji shrugged. “This is why I love you yuji!” you fake cried. “Shut up.” He blushed. Grandpa cleared his throat.

“Yuji, you're a strong kid, take care of others, especially her.” Grandpa now turned over and looked at you. “You're the sweetest child and I am proud that I raised you both.”

“Grandpa-why are you saying this?” you stuttered.

“Both of you protect each other no matter what.” Grandpa Saitou spoke and turned over. That was the moment you knew he was dead.

“Grandpa? Grandpa?” Yuji called out.

“Yuji? Is- he de-ad?” your lip quivered. Yuji did not respond, it made you sob. Your legs felt weak and you dropped to the floor. Hot tears were streaming down your face.

Yuji scooped you in his arms and led you out of the hospital room. He sat you down on one of the chairs and let you cry on his shoulder. Yuji also had tears in his eyes, he didn't expect this. Neither of you did.

You were approached by an emo-looking boy with spiky hair. "Yuji Itadori, correct?" The person asked. “You're my soulmate?” Yuji asked, looking dumbfounded.

“This is crazy,” You mumbled. “I’m Fushiguro Megumi. It's nice to finally meet you. I’m from Jujutsu high school. Sorry, but there's no time." He said.

"The cursed object you have is extremely dangerous. Hand it over right away." Megumi spoke. “I don't want you to get hurt,” he added.

"Cursed object?" Itadori asked, confused. You moved to a more secluded area. "This, you have it right?" He asked as he pulled out his phone with a picture of the cursed object.

“Hm?" Itadori looked closer. “Yuji, isn't that the ugly-looking finger?” you questioned.

"Oh yeah! I found it. I don't mind giving it back, but my fellow club members have taken a liking to it." He spoke. "I’d at least like an explanation."

"The majority are the result of negative energy that flows out of people..." Megumi started. “And it's a very dangerous object. I can't risk you getting hurt or other people getting killed.'' Megumi spoke.

“I said that I don't mind it, you can have it.” Yuji handed him the box.“It’s empty? I was just following the taint clinging to the box?” Megumi mumbled.

“Yuji? Where is the finger?” He asked. “It's with our senpais. Actually, they were thinking of removing the talisman tonight.'' Megumi backed away.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked. “Bad? It's worse than bad, they're going to get killed.”

~time skip~

"I just need some cursed energy, right?" you rustled through your pocket and pulled out the finger, and ate it.

“You dumbass. Are you trying to kill yourself?” Yuji yelled at you. “Well if it saves you then i’ll do everything in my power.” you smiled at yuji.

Your entire body convulsed and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You could faintly hear yuji and his soulmate scream for you as you collapsed on the cold floor.

You woke up in a weird dark place that awfully looked like a shrine? And someone was sitting on the throne made up of bones.

You squinted your eyes, “Holy fuck you're hot.” You blurted out then squeaked.

The man chuckled, his voice sounded deep and velvety. “I finally found you huh? My brat.”

“YOU?!!” you shouted.

And just like that, you found your soulmate.

He snapped his fingers and you landed on his lap. “Wow, today is like a trainwreck,” you mumbled.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Well first my grandpa died then my brother found his soulmate and then we heard that our senpais could die because of the old crusty finger so then I ate it and well then I passed out and then I found you?” you animatedly spoke. “Well where did you come from tho?” you asked.

He chuckled again. “I quote ‘The old crusty finger’ That was my finger from my old body that got sealed away.”

“Wait- does that mean you're inside of me?” You asked, feeling confused about the whole situation.

“That sounded so bad.” Sukuna groaned. “But yes I’m quite literally inside your body.”

“How does that even work? And how haven’t you shriveled up like a prune yet? Like you’re so old?” You were very confused.

“I have a good skincare routine.” Sukuna sniffed. You laughed.

“You know I imagined my soulmate to be a grumpy man with an old soul but you turned out to be a grumpy old man with an even older soul.” You giggled.

“I'm not that old, okay?” He grumbled. “How old are you again?” You questioned.

“I stopped counting after 300.” You burst into a fit of giggles.

“Does that mean you're a gilf? Like you're so old.” “Well, I tried to keep myself alive for you and what does gilf mean?” He inquired in confusion.

“Grandpa I’d like to fuck.” You snorted.

He groaned, “That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard. I’ve never had children so how can I be a grandpa?”

“Well, you have that aura.” You spoke, trying to muffle your laugh. “You cheeky brat.” Sukuna huffed.

[arceus-insanity]

This is a long rant so you can totally delete if you’re not interested, though I don’t know who else to talk to about this so I hope you don’t mind me getting something off my chest: I feel really bad for todoroki.

He tried the hardest to save his villain (making a plan to stop Dabi by creating a new move, continually tried to get Endeavor to cooperate with him to meet Dabi, letting Dabi take his anger out at him, and racing meet him not once but twice, saving him from killing himself even when he was the most suicidal out of the villain trio), hell, he was the most empathetic to his villain without ever needing to see the child self because he thought they would have been the same if Todoroki didn’t get the support from his friends. Too bad Touya was so hell bent on his suicide mission with Endeavor that Todoroki couldn’t get through him the first time.

Which leads to the ending of Touya dying in a machine and the brothers still having glass stuck between them. Endeavor may have took over the ending, but Todoroki was the only one who connected to Touya by asking him about his favorite food instead of talking over him. Even then, Endeavor gets to seem cool with “I’ll handle the consequences” and Natsuo complimenting him despite him running away until he couldn’t and almost did a murder-suicide with Touya. Hell, Endeavor literally never faced any consequences in the end as the next time we see him with his psuedo-family (on another note, it feels like salt in the wound Hawks got to live out his happy family dreams while Also not getting any consequences for killing Twice as a hero). Rei sticks by him for some goddamn reason and the last thing Fuyumi talks about is losing her job because of Endeavor’s actions. Before then, the only consequences Endeavor faced was for him failing as a hero and civilians getting mad at that. Everytime someone brings up the abuse, it always brushing it aside besides Iida/Kirishima commenting on it. Sero’s “no one needs that tragic crap” doesn’t really help either since it was more about his own motivations than helping Todoroki dialogue wise. We don’t even get to see All Might’s reaction who was told in the beginning Todoroki was only born to defeat him (Endeavor actually used pronouns calling Todoroki an object in the original Japanese in this convo). We don’t get to see anyone who knows Eri (outside of Midoriya) give the same sympathy to Todoroki because now they know he went through a similar experience a decade of his life (but even then Midoriya praises Endeavor once when fighting Dabi so :/).

Barely anyone in the family comforted him on screen and it truly feels like his family fell apart despite doing his best learning about them in under a year. Todoroki doesn’t get to have that bowl of udon OR soba with Touya now.

The narrative kinda also barred him from the origin trio thing in the end, and he didn’t even get to talk to/cry about Touya to Uraraka and Midoriya (even though I personally feel like both their stories kind of fell apart because of that talk) (also he has the most complicated/interesting relationship with both All Might and his villain/brother but whateve). Todoroki is still haunted by Endeavor’s name a decade later (even if it’s a smaller shadow) and EVEN THEN Endeavor is still looked at as one of the greatest heroes. Endeavor almost killed Touya and the family for not acting sooner and he gets labeled as great. Endeavor gets to have replacement children while everyone else don’t get the justice they deserved.

He doesn’t even get his rising title in the anime!! They took it away from him!! The anime wants you to think all of the Todoroki family saved Touya, but Todoroki did 90% of the work!!

This might seem odd change in topic, but Tenko/Shigaraki has a lot of parallels to Todoroki, and I guess their abusive guardians taking over their plots and leaving behind tragedy can be added to that list.

I’m so mad Endeavor got to live… Though it seems like anyone didn’t get any justice about their abusers besides Eri.

I’m not the biggest Shoto fan, but I’ll do my best to focus on him for this

You know, I’d say there are three levels to why I hate Endeavor so much.

He is a shit guy. He’s an abuser, who’s entire reason is oh he didn’t get first place in a popularity contest, and couldn’t be bothered to try and be decent to the public.

The narrative refuses to acknowledge it. His actions once All Might is forced to retire are all massively downplayed mixed with excuses, and he gets an undeserved angst fest every time he faces even the possibility of consequences.

Every other character and the plot has to be sacrificed to prop him up.

And even after Endeavor’s ‘redemption’ and cryfest at the hospital, the whole fucking family puts Shoto at the center of everything. As if that hasn’t been one of the main reasons everyone in the family (except Endeavor who gets nothing but benefits from this) is struggling. If either Endeavor was dead, or Shoto was allowed to hate Endeavor, things wouldn't have turned out so badly.

I saw a fic a while ago and the premise was that the rest of the Todoroki family was with Touya and Shoto was left all alone. And even just reading the fic’s description I’m thinking what are they talking about they weren’t there for Touya, they were there for Endeavor!

Shoto is the only one who talks to Dabi, everyone else is at mass talking at him, in both the battle and epilogue. The battle the rest of the family is just victim-blaming/ scapegoating Dabi blindly, not questioning anything. Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei don’t say a single word to Dabi after, no they’re talking to Endeavor, they only get a few minutes to see Dabi, possibly forever considering the prison system, and they spend it on the Manbaby. Shoto only manages to ask one question at the end, while they're being forced out, which Dabi demonstrates that he aware and was willing to talk to the best of his abilities, the family just couldn’t be bothered.

I’m disgusted by 1A, UA, the other pros, etc, ’s response(s) to the reveal, no one ever asks if Shoto is okay, or his feelings are. They all just assume, and earlier in the series we see Midori-enabler-ya tell him that he’s forgiving Endeavor, and that shows he’s moving on. Forgiveness isn’t needed to move on, and I believe can very much get in the way of it. And that’s the closest we get to anyone actually caring about Shoto’s or any of the other victims feelings that weren’t the villains.

I wish I could say I was surprised by Rei (or Fuyumi) but I’m not. Rei basically tells Natsuo and Fuyumi they have to forgive him because he sent her a flower. Besides the disturbing parallels from "Harlequinade" Batman: The Animated Series except this one sees it as a good thing. This moment and the continuing progression/ reveal of her character, never made me think highly of her. She reads as someone who is massively codependent and an enabler, regardless of the reason for that, that is the result

Natsuo I was disappointed by, he was the only one who didn’t see the bare minimum of effort from Endeavor as reason to forgive/ forget everything he’s done. Yet in the final showdown he directly blames Dabi for being difficult.

And about Eri, I firmly believe that she was only helped at all because Overhaul was a villain outside of abusing/torturing her. If he was an ‘innocent’ civilian, hero, or part of the commission, they would have given(read forced) her back without hesitation or a second thought, they basically did that anyway when she was first introduced. Here’s a link on what I mean https://www.tumblr.com/thr0wnawayy/764328039502987264/whats-your-opinion-about-eri-i-mean-shes-cute?source=share And a whole lot of @thr0wnawayy ‘s first reblog could be taken and applied to Shoto

[tomblythismyhusband]

5..4..3..2..1.. [ coriolanus snow x fem!reader ]

[summary]: coriolanus snow x fem!reader | Coriolanus catches you when trying to run away from him when you both were supposed to be fleeing District 12 together. [ Basically a “what if Coriolanus caught Lucy Gray” story. ]

[warnings]: 18+, themes may be distressing to some !!! , kissing, language, death, murder, mentions of Sejanus and Mayfair, Coriolanus kills you, gunplay, angry!corio

[wc]: 1.3k

[note]: Inspired by [ Murder Song - Aurora ] This fic has been in my drafts forever

5…4…3…2…1…

You counted the seconds, waiting anxiously for the trigger to be pulled. Anticipating the black inky envelope of death to seep into your mind. Oh how you hoped it would be painless. Quick.

Coriolanus had his rifle pressed up to your head as he straddled your waist, pinning you to the ground, your wrists held down by his knees. The forest ground was wet with the morning rain, the smell calming your senses as you prepared for the worst. You could feel the shooting pain through your side as Coriolanus’ body dug into yours.

“Please..” You whispered. Your throat felt scratchy and pained from screaming, making it incredibly difficult to speak. Coriolanus pressed the gun harder against your head, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

“You should’ve thought of the consequences before trying to run.” He said through gritted teeth.

He looked wild. A hungry predator who had finally caught his prey. His dog tag necklace swung over you, filling you with fear on how close he was.

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” You choked out, trying to move your arms. This action only resulted in his knees pressing more into you, your body spiking with pain.

It wasn’t supposed to get to this point.

You and Coriolanus had set out to leave district 12, for good, earlier that day. He was content with the decision but he had no idea you knew a dark secret he tried to keep hidden.

You knew he had killed Sejanus.

His only friend, practically his brother. The man that thought extremely high of him, betrayed in an instant when it became convenient.

Once Coriolanus knew you knew, he feared that you would turn him in and he would get caught. The blood on his hands would land him a visit to the hanging tree. You wanted him to pay for what he did. You realized how calm and collected he was after killing Mayfair and Sejanus, even the tribute back in the arena during the games.

Coriolanus was cold blooded, a murder. Someone who needed to be brought to justice before things got worse.

You had planned on ditching him in the woods and running off to turn him in. Unfortunately this plan didn’t work in your favor as you now struggled in his tight grasp, gun placed at your skull.

“Coriolanus I won’t tell anyone I promise.” You pleaded, staring into his cold blue eyes. He looked deadly. His hands placed on you, with a frown plastered on his face. He studied you. You couldn’t tell if he was deciding to free you or not. He was extremely hard to read.

“You betrayed me.” He said in a low voice. You head was spinning and aching as you tried to find the words to say.

“I would never Coriolanus, never.” You whispered, eyes meeting his with a soft look in your eyes. He slightly shifted his weight. You felt hopeful. Maybe your words were working?

You wished he would just kill you now instead of giving you a glimmer of false hope that he would let you go.

“You're lying.” He finally said. His words were harsh, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please.” You begged, voice wavering as you struggled to shake your head.

The cool metal of the gun still placed steadily against your head was a reminder that he was the one in control.

Coriolanus’ face twisted into a look of amusement. “Look at you…. begging for your life when you were just ready to hand over mine.” He drawled, leaning down closer to you.

You could feel his panting breath on your face as you held your breath. It was obvious he was still filled with anger with the way his thighs squeezed your waist.

“It wasn’t like that Corio I-“ He cut you off, taking your chin roughly in his fingers.

“A dirty traitor doesn’t get to call me that. Sorry love.” He spat. Hatred had seeped into his tone. You couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt.

You scoffed. Dirty traitor? Was he serious? You weren’t the one who killed your best friend.

And why did you feel guilty too? He’s a murderer. He’s better off dead. You knew you had hurt him deeply by trying to run. He had loved you after all, in his own twisted way.

You sucked in a breath, growing restless.

“Fine. You want to do it? Fucking kill me then. It’s just more blood on your hands.” You shot back trying to appear tough.

He seemed slightly stunned by your reply but managed to keep his composure. He slid his hand from your chin to squeeze your cheeks, his grip causing a soreness in your jaw.

“I wouldn’t test me if I were you, Y/n.” He growled. Your eyes were wide staring up at him, his fingers cold against your skin. How did everything turn so wrong? Would you really die at his hand? Even laying on the forest floor under him, gun to your head, you thought of the good times. The times where you loved him, unconditionally. The times where Coriolanus wouldn’t think to hurt anyone.

“Why did you do it?” You whispered, your mouth wrenching open to speak as he squeezed your face harder. He looked at you with confliction. What was going on in his head?

“It’s what I had to do. For Panem. For the Capitol.” He finally whispered. His voice was full of urgency, like he was trying to make you truly understand.

“He was your friend Coriolanus. How did you think I felt knowing you’d throw away someone that close to you?” You said intensely.

He was silent. His grip on the gun had slacked slightly, but was still aimed and ready.

“I loved you Coriolanus, But I fear you would betray me in an instant if you could.” You said, desperation making its way into your tone. You tried to ignore the spiking pain in your arms as his knees continued to dig into them.

Anger flared in his eyes again. “Hadn’t you had an ounce of trust that I would take care of you?”

His words were harsh, as if you had really hurt him by not fully trusting him.

“Corio I-“ He pushed the gun sharply into the side of your head again, gripping your face so hard you thought your jaw would crack.

“I said you don't deserve to fucking call me that.” He said in a low voice.

Your heart was beating and your breath hitched as he lifted the gun from your head, sitting up to look down at you. He had released his grip from your face, causing you to gape your mouth to get rid of the soreness.

“Please let me go. I’ll go straight up North. To where we were originally headed.” You pleaded again. He looked down at you with pity.

“I don’t trust you.” He spat. “It all ends here.”

Panic shocked through your system, as you tried to thrash and wriggle out of his grip. Pleaded no’s fell off your lips until he took a sharp breath.

“It pains me to do this darling.” He said quietly. He leaned down towards your lips. He planted a kiss, the warmth usually associated with the action gone. You were sobbing violently as he kissed you, your lips trembling against his.

“Please Coriolanus..” You cried against his lowered face. You felt him let out a shaky breath.

“You made me do this. I love you, but I can’t let you jeopardize my future.” He said calmly. How was he so calm? You didn’t know.

Did he have any remorse? Any guilt?

His eerie calmness just added to your terror as aimed his rifle, fingers finding their place on the trigger. The gun was placed against your head while he still laid over you, blue eyes darting all over your face.

Coriolanus leaned down and kissed you again. It was hard, hungry, passionate almost as if he was silently apologizing.

You still had time for one more cry of protest before it all ended.

Your body had no time to react. Your senses enveloped in black, your life glittering away in a spiral of emotions and sounds. Death felt cold as it embraced you.

You couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel Coriolanus’ lips on yours.

You were gone.

[cosmicjoke]

This isn’t the suffering olympics but it’s very interesting to me when people think Eren suffered the most in AoT when in the end he was the own cause of the majority of his suffering all because of his selfish desire.

lol, yeah, that’s… I mean, how exactly did Eren suffer the most? These people talk about how his mother died in front of him and claim he’s the “only character” who experiences this. I guess their brains just forgot Levi and Mikasa exist. They also seem to forget that Eren killed his own mother. He literally stops Dina from eating Bertolt all so the attack on the wall can happen, all to set the events in motion that will lead to him gaining the power to enact the Rumbling. He quite literally orchestrated his own “trauma”. He had an idyllic childhood that he completely didn’t appreciate because his nature makes it impossible for him to appreciate anything good he has. We see Eren constantly disobey his mother and father and show zero regard for the grief he’s causing others from the moment we meet him, with the way he gets into constant fights and forces Mikasa to rescue him, forcing her into confrontations she never wanted or asked for. People are so dumb, lol. That’s foreshadowing for what Eren would do to all of the people who cared about him in the end, all because he was bored, basically.

In the school castes au, we find out the zombie apocalypse that breaks out at the school was only ever Eren’s dream. When he wakes up and realizes it’s not real, he starts crying. Why do people think that is? Isayama has said that the characters in the school castes au have the same personalities and psychologies as they do in canon. Eren is crying because the zombie apocalypse isn’t real. He’s upset and disappointed that something horrifically bad isn’t happening because he’s bored. This is a mirror image of Eren in canon. It’s staring people right in the face and they don’t see it.

Eren goes after Mikasa’s kidnappers, not because he cares about rescuing her (he’d never even met her up to that point), but because he’s bored and wants something to happen. So he goes and premeditates the murder of a bunch of guys. And it’s exactly what happens with the attack on Wall Maria and everything that follows after. Every single death that occurs following that opening attack is on Eren’s hands, every scout that dies as a result of that attack and beyond, every citizen of Paradis that these people claim Eren cared so much about, every one of his friends that he loses, they all died because he was bored with his idyllic life and wanted something to happen. Every moment of grief and loss his friends and comrades suffer following that opening attack, is because Eren was bored and wanted something to happen.

Remember that scene with him staring up at the sky and sighing to himself “I wish something would happen.”? There’s Eren’s reasoning for doing everything. He just… wanted something to happen to shake up his boredom. It’s why he’s so “disappointed” with there being humanity beyond the walls. Because he wanted to continue having an excuse to destroy and tear things apart, and eventually, he just decides to continue doing so anyway and to hell with the consequences. His nature is that of someone perpetually unsatisfied and desirous of chaos. He was never going to be happy with anything they discovered beyond the walls. He’s a literal child, mentally and emotionally. He never matures or develops any sense of morality. He doesn’t care about the consequences of his actions on anyone else. All he sees is what he wants and he’s willing to do anything, including killing the people he cares about, to get it.

So no, Eren didn’t suffer the most, lol. He’s the literal architect of his own loss, and of everyone else’s too.

[itsmewillful]

All for you, Sweetheart-Oneshot

Main Masterlist

(Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader OneShot)

3rd person(POV)

Word Count: 799

Warning(s): some curse words, very angst-y, mentions of Order 66, non-canon details, fluffy ending

***

The hallways of the Jedi Temple were dead silent, which was unusual for a Saturday morning. Usually, many people hustle around at this time to get to the cafeteria where they can get a weekly serving of pancakes. Which of course, confused Y/N a lot when she arrived back at the temple, to empty halls.

She had just arrived back from a week-long mission; one of her firsts, actually without her Master. 

She left the hangar bay and began to tread down the hallways of the temple to get to the main area of the building.

That’s when she saw it-bodies.

Everywhere.

“What the fuck?” She gasped at the sight. 

Younglings, Padawans, the children of the temple, were spread out everywhere along the floors of the enormous room. Near them, their Masters, died attempting to protect them, only to fail.

“Oh my gosh, Master!” She choked on her air when she spotted a familiar lightsaber laying on the ground near her feet. She ran over to her Master and sat down next to them, and laid their head on her lap. Her eyes became glassy and tears started to fall slowly down her face.

“Oh, Master. Who did this to you?” She whispered. Tears began to fall more frequently. Her sorrow began to black out all other senses around her; she didn’t feel him.

“I did it.” 

She turned around and met his gaze. The eyes of her best friend. Her secret lover. Him. Anakin Skywalker. His eyes looked conflicted and had some unnatural colours swirling around in his once sapphire blue eyes. His hair was matted and stuck to his face. Never once had she seen him so vulnerable–so weakened and troubled.

“A-Ani?” She gasped. She stood up from the ground and began to take small steps back.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” He whispered gently. He reached out to her but she moved away.

“What do you mean by ‘I did it?’ Did you kill everyone? All the Padawans-the children?!” Her voice cracked at the end and more tears fell down her cheeks. Anakin’s words were caught in his throat at the sight. Never has he ever seen her so depressed in his entire life knowing her.

“I-” he hesitated between his words. He looked up to meet her gaze and swallowed visibly. Tears also began to fall down his cheeks and she gazed at him with her mouth agape.

“I have no excuse for the things I did. I was used when I was the weakest–he promised me, but it still ended up twisted in the end.” 

“Who? Who used you, Ani?” She asked, stepping closer to place a hand on his cheek. Tears fell from both of their eyes, and she used her thumb to swipe them away from his cheek.

“I-I can’t, and I know what I’m about to tell you will make you hate me for the rest of your life.” The words fell from his lips, struggling to tell the words clearly.

Her lip began to quiver- could she ever forgive him? Yes, she could. It may take a long time but he will make up for it.

“Anakin Skywalker, I know that you’re not the type of person to suddenly go around in a building and kill everyone in sight without something forcing you to it.” She placed her other hand on his cheek. “Please, tell me. I want to help you.” She whispered.

Anakin sighed heavily and moved her hands from his face.

“Palpatine. He promised me that if I did his bidding he’d protect everyone I love and care for.” He breathed in heavily and his dreary eyes met her glassy ones. 

“I was part of his plan.” He continued shakily.“He manipulated me and used the things I cared for the most against me. It isn’t fair. Now I must face the consequences of my actions. I deserve to die.”

“No, Anakin. No one deserves to die. Especially not you.” She stopped him. Her hands found his hands and she squeezed them lightly.

“Y/N, I did something unforgettable, how can you say that?” He choked as more tears began to escape his eyes.

“Because, Anakin.” She placed her forehead against his. “I know you did it all for me. To protect me. And I will never be mad at someone for protecting their loved ones. It’ll take time, but I know you will make up for it one day.” 

He inhaled deeply before he closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. His eyes fluttered open and met her gaze.

Love, sympathy, and understanding filled them.

“Yes, I did it all for you, Sweetheart."

[storiesofsvu]

Christmas Admirer

Elizabeth Donnelly x reader warnings: language, argument, minor stalking. Look! I did a thing! Thank you for the ko-fi and the request!! I hope this lives up to expectations lol. Covers the "fight before xmas" square for bingo. I'm slowly getting back into it y'all! I wanted to get a lot more done for bingo but I hate to admit I don't think I'm gonna get much done, which sucks. I still have the creative spurts but I think I'm so wrapped up in NCIS that other characters have fallen down the list lol. I'll do my best to get the more developed ideas out for bingo! Love y'all!

The first time it happened, you didn’t think a thing about it. Liz always had new staff in the early fall, clerks, paralegals, assistants, secretaries, baby prosecutors that you hadn’t met yet. Those who had graduated college and wanted some on the job experience before law school, those who had graduated law school and were killing time before being able to write the Bar. There was never a shortage of strange faces around Hogan Place, so you breezed through the halls with no worries, a handful of files tucked under your arm and two coffees balanced in your hand as you approached her office door.

“I wouldn’t!” The voice rang out from the desk situated outside of Liz’s office and you stalled in your steps, letting out a small laugh.

“I’m sure it’s fine. She’s expecting me.”

“That was probably before she found out Anderson lied about having a warrant.” The man winced slightly and you let out a sigh right before Liz’s voice boomed through the glass, clearly upset and about to tear Anderson a new one.

“Guess so.” You dropped down into a chair opposite the man’s desk, placing the coffees down on it, files on your lap as you tugged out your phone. “This the only headache she’s had to deal with today?”

“Aside from the damage control that’ll go along with it, I think so.”

“Great.” Your head tilted back as you let out a groan, there went your dinner plans.

You didn’t catch it, the way his eyes were lingering on you, examining the folders in your lap, recognizing them as legal ones, an NYPD logo stamped on the second one in the pile just peeking its way out. How he was putting together that you were in the legal field, but no badge or gun meant you weren’t a cop. How casual you were in the space meant you’d been here plenty of times before. His gaze dragged up your body, watching your hand reach out for your coffee cup, nearly frowning that you were using your right, your left hidden under the pile of files and he’d have to resort to a verbal tactic to figure out more.

“How long has Anderson been in there?” You asked, swallowing down your coffee.

“Oh, uh? Only a few minutes before you got here.” He replied, “I could always take a message Mrs…?”

You barked out a laugh, turning toward him with a grin on your face, “please, it’s Ms. Parker.” He stuck his hand out over his desk and you took it, shaking while he smiled.

“Thomas, it’s nice to meet you.”

Your eyes surveyed him for a minute, flicking around the room before you spoke, “you got a nice looking name plate,” you gestured to the desk, “you’ve either been here a while or you’re planning on it.”

“Hoping to be.” He shifted in his chair, sitting more upright, “figured this was the best way to save up for law school.” He laughed awkwardly, “not that I’m freshly graduated or anything, I just didn’t figure things out right away, you know?”

“I do.” You laughed, glancing back towards Liz’s door where you could barely hear Anderson stammering along as she continued to lecture him.

“She always this intense?”

“Depends.” You picked up your coffee, taking another swig, “but Anderson… he’s annoying. He’s one of those ones that has an excuse for literally everything and none of them are valid. He’ll never own up to his actions or accept the consequences and shit like that pisses her off even more. If this case sinks, he’s done for.”

A small pause in the conversation while you both tried to eavesdrop and ignore the argument on the other side of the office wall before he spoke again, “sounds like you’ve known Donnelly a while.”

“Five years, give or take.” You replied, picking up your coffee again.

Though it was the last two that were the most significant, a year of back and fourth flirtation whenever you ran into each other until Melinda practically dragged you to some gala she was forced to attend and one thing led to another and confessions of true feelings were whispered into the night. You’d never expected to fall in love with someone like Liz and you’d definitely never thought someone like her would fall in love with you, yet here you were.

“Bet you know all the best ways to make it into her good books.” Thomas practically teased and you laughed.

“Work hard, pay attention, be ready on your feet and up to date as you can be on any open or upcoming cases. She’s big on loyalty, don’t let her catch you fraternizing with the enemy or sweet talking other departments or firms. If you’re thinking about switching jobs, let her know up front and she’ll give you the glowing recommendation you deserve, but if you do it behind her back, your options will be limited. Don’t be a suck up, but on a really bad day, the shrimp scampi from Forlini’s is a life saver,” you were suddenly cut off as the door flew open and Anderson came scurrying by without bothering to stop and you glanced back to Thomas, “and her coffee order is an Americano or drip with two packets of sweetener.” You picked up the untouched coffee, placing it down directly in front of him as you stood from your seat, “but I have a feeling she doesn’t need any more adrenaline boosts today and you just might.” You shot him a wink before scooping up your own coffee and stepping towards Liz’s ajar door, knocking on the frame.

“What?” She snapped as you pushed it open, offering her a warm smile and she let out a sigh from where she sat behind her desk, “sorry.”

“No need.” You swung the door shut behind you, moving through the room.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked softly, hand reaching out to squeeze at yours as you perched on the side of her desk.

“Had lunch with Sophie.” You shrugged, dropping the pile of files into her inbox, “figured I’d save her the ten minute drive.”

“One of these days you’re going to remember you’re a writer and not my assistant.” She teased as you leant down to steal a kiss.

“Speaking of…” you glanced behind you to the closed door, “you’ve got a new one.”

“He’s competent so far.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair, “unlike fucking Anderson.” You laughed, squeezing at her shoulder.

“He’s been in the hotseat for nearly a year, it’s about time they let him go.” You frowned slightly, “but I am guessing this means our dinner plans are off?”

Liz let out a heavy sigh, pinching at the bridge of her nose as she muttered “this is why I hate this job sometimes.” She glanced up at you, “yes.” Taking both of your hands in hers she smiled at you, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t spoil you. You go home, I’ll send dinner to your place, dessert too, and probably another million little gifts.”

“Liz, you really don’t have to.” You giggled, leaning down to kiss her.

“No sweetheart, I really do. We made these plans a while ago and I know how much you were looking forward to them.”

“Alright,” you slid off her desk, “fine. I’ll accept delicious, free dinner and treats but you better send me a picture of your dinner too, even if it’s in your office. I need you to not forget to eat.”

“And you really think you don’t take care of me?” She grinned up at you and you giggled again when she pulled you back to her for another kiss, “thank you for understanding.”

“Always.” You smiled, “and hey, don’t be too hard on that kid out there, he doesn’t seem so bad.”

“As long as he’s not Anderson.” She replied with an eye roll and you pulled the door open with a laugh, shooting a wave and a smile to Thomas as you sped through the office, leaving the room fast enough that you missed the way he ducked his gaze and his cheeks flushed pink.

**

The second time it happened, you were none the wiser, more focussed on getting your daily tasks done through the first snowfall of the year.

“God it is freezing out there.” You grumbled, letting out a little shiver as you shook the snow off your shoulders, “hope you guys have the heat on.” You reached out, placing a coffee cup down on Thomas’ desk.

“Got a portable one under my desk.” He replied with a slightly bashful smile.

“Good.” You shot him a wink, wrapping your hands around your own coffee and letting out a warm sigh.

“If it’s that cold out you should really have gloves on.”

“I know.” You groaned, rolling your eyes, “my friend’s dog chewed through my last pair this weekend, haven’t gotten around to a shopping trip yet.”

“She doesn’t give you any time off?” He asked with a frown, nodding toward Liz’s door and you laughed.

“She’s not my boss.” You tugged around in your purse for a moment, pulling out a business card, “I write kid’s books… well, primarily. I’ve been known to dabble into true crime too.”

He took the card from you, studying it for a minute before looking back up at you, “oh, that’s really cool. And… wildly different departments.”

You laughed, smiling softly at Thomas, “yeah, I guess they balance each other out well enough. Gotta splash some colour in that drab, cruel world, ya know?”

“Yeah.” He twirled the card around in his fingers, placing it down next to his cup of pens, “I’d love to pick your brain about it.”

“Really?” Your smile widened, taken aback by someone showing genuine interest into what you spent your time doing.

“Yeah. I’ll even buy you a drink, or a coffee, for your time? Tonight?”

“I can’t tonight.” Your nose scrunched and Thomas thought it was the cutest thing he’d seen all month, “got a thing. Friday?”

“Yeah, yeah! That’s perfect.”

“Well,” grinning, you gestured toward the card, “you’ve got my number.”

You scooped up your coffee, briefly knocking on Liz’s door before entering her office, letting the door swing shut behind you as you crossed the room.

“You’re late.” She chastised, half teasing while you leant over to kiss her cheek, your hand resting just past the collar of her shirt and she winced, “and your hands are freezing! What did I tell you about buying new gloves?”

“I’ll get around to it.” You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, “and how am I late if all I’m doing is playing errand boy for you?”

“Cleaners’ only open until three today.” She replied with a shrug pulling a claim ticket out of her desk and passing it to you.

“Good thing it’s only one then.” You replied with a grin, swiping the tag from her and popping it into your purse. “Your dress will be in one piece and ready to go at my place once you’re done here. You’ll have just enough time to go over your speech before we head out.”

“You’re a life saver.” She tugged you back to her to steal a kiss, wincing again at the temperature of your fingers. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You got home with Liz’s dry cleaning over your arm and take out in your other (still bare) hand to find a gift bag sitting outside of your apartment door. You managed to scoop it up and once you got inside you discovered two pairs of very warm, cozy and luxurious gloves inside. A smile crept onto your cheeks and your body relaxed with warmth at the thought of Liz thinking of you on an already crammed busy day.

**

The third time you were slowly starting to pick up on it but brushed it off as friendliness. Thomas had agreed to buy you a drink to pick your brain over your work and you were more than excited to have someone who wasn’t your agent or publisher to talk to about the creative thoughts flying through your brain. You spent more than a few hours at a small table in the corner of a bar picking over appetizers and a few cocktails while you got to know each other a bit more. Thomas was new to town, spent the majority of his time working and thus didn’t really have a lot of friends in the city yet. You tried to pay for your half of the tab but he insisted it was his treat and you weren’t about to complain. When he offered to walk you home you figured he was just being friendly, cautious as a man should be about letting their companion go on alone at night in New York. You didn’t have to argue too much as you already had a car coming and assured that you would text once you were home safe.

**

The fourth time things started to happen you were so wrapped up in the holiday season you wouldn’t have noticed even if you had been looking for it. All of your shopping was done online to avoid crowded stores, there were small piles of packages outside your door daily, more Christmas cards than you could count flowing through your mail box. An array of little gifts from Liz, some signed with her initials, some wrapped with a ‘do not open until Christmas’ warnings, others bare in their Amazon boxes. Some were shipped, some were dropped off and it seemed to change every week.

Flowers, chocolates and candy were frequently left at your work desk, a treat for the entire office, trinkets from fans or avid readers, it was just what happened this time of year. It didn’t matter if it didn’t have a card, it was just a little boost to get through the cold snap and into the new year.

Figuring you should get a start on wrapping the gifts you were giving you started to sort through the boxes littered underneath the tree, finding a surprising amount of things that had been on your public wish list. You were stuck in an internal battle between setting a reminder to thank Liz in the morning or not mention anything considering they were likely supposed to be Christmas gifts and you eventually decided on the latter.

Just as you were finishing up, putting the final bow on the final present there was a knock at your door and you were surprised with dinner from your favourite place. You were a little taken a back with this one, considering it was one of the pricier places you really adored, but hey, it was Christmas time, Liz was working late and cancelled a date night, you weren’t going to complain about a pricey apology.

**

The fifth time it happened Thomas had been away from his desk when you arrived, you figured he was already gone for the night and headed straight to Liz’s office. That was where you discovered that she was having the utter day from hell, more than one prosecutor getting served thanks to playing out of line during their current cases. Meaning she now had to comb through both of their cases from start to where they were currently to find any violations, possibly take them over herself and help them find the appropriate counsel for the suits being filed.

She apologized profusely, promising that she would make it up to you later that weekend and you simply smiled, nodding gently and pressing a kiss to her cheek. You’d known what level of workload she had when you started dating and you reminded her that you knew this wasn’t exactly work from home over a glass of wine type of work. Reluctantly, you finally left her office, quietly shutting the door on your way out before your eyes flicked up and you spotted Thomas back at his desk beginning to pack things up.

“Figured you’d left already.” You greeted with a small smile.

“Oh, just a few last minute things she needed me to take over. Done now.” His eyes slowly raked up your body, taking in the heels, form fitting dress, jewelry and curled hair and he gulped, “you look… nice.”

“Thanks.” You huffed out a laugh, “dinner plans.”

“You didn’t get roped into this somehow, did you?” He asked, gesturing towards Liz’s office.

“Oh no.” You shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket when it pinged to read the text message and let out another sigh, “but my date did cancel on me.”

“Really? It’s practically Christmas.”

“Meh, happens.” You shrugged, pocketing your phone again.

“You know… I was just on my way out; my plan was leftover pizza. If you maybe wanted some company, we could grab a bite?” He offered and you hummed over it for a moment.

“You sure?”

“’Course.”

“That’d honestly be really nice, I’ve been cooped up alone in my home office all week and was looking forward to the company.” You glanced up to him, “but I’m paying this time!”

“Not after you got stood up.” He chuckled and you let out a small laugh.

“I had reservations at Trattoria Dell’Arte, it’s not exactly cheap. Let me get it.”

“Only if I take care of the drinks.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

You likely would have noticed that he was flirting, not just being friendly if you hadn’t been so preoccupied up in your head. Between both of your jobs you and Liz hadn’t managed to see that much of each other recently and you were beginning to second guess yourself, thinking that she was simply just too tired to want to bother seeing you after a long week. That the extra work was a welcomed excuse to have to take a rain check yet again.

Instead you played nice, laughed at most of his jokes and contributed the best you could over dinner. Spending time with him wasn’t bad, he was decent enough company you didn’t mind it, you just would have preferred your girlfriend. He did try to snag the dinner bill but you were quicker, taking care of it on the way back from the restroom, leaving him with the agreed upon bottle of wine to settle up.

He once again offered to walk you home, or at least split a cab and you agreed on the latter considering it was a chillier night and you didn’t want either of you to get caught out in the snow. The heavier the incoming storm got, the fewer cabs there would be out on the streets, so it didn’t even cross your mind. You thought nothing of the rose he presented to you after you flagged down the cab considering the street peddler was pushy, the assertive in your face type that wouldn’t take no for an answer until you’d agreed to buy something from them. You’d even both laughed about it on the way home, talking about how guys like that used to target tourists more than the locals and when you reached your apartment you thanked him for the fun evening and hoped he had a great rest of his weekend.

With your back turned you missed the way his eyes followed you all the way up to the entrance to your building, a small smile on his cheeks as the fantasies began to play through his head, some of which were already playing out in real life right in front of him.

**

Stepping out of the cab you cautiously jogged up the stairs to Liz’s brownstone, careful to avoid the ice in your heels, coat open and flowing behind you as you briefly stopped to ring the bell before letting yourself in.

“I’ll be five minutes!” Her voice rang through from her upstairs office, “make yourself a drink.”

“Okay.” You called back, wiping off your shoes and shrugging off your coat to be hung on one of the hallway hooks.

Liz’s house was no stranger to you, it was your home away from home, a place you spent many weekends curled in her arms on the couch or tangled in her bedsheets as the sun crept in through the curtains. It felt homier that your apartment, the place you often opted to work from home when you needed to, the long days that she worked that you missed her, wanted to still feel surrounded by her even if she didn’t come home until long after you were asleep.

You crossed the living room to the bar cart, pouring yourself a gin and tonic to pass the time while she finished whatever it was she was doing. Sipping on the beverage you pulled your phone from your pocket, scrolling through a couple of apps and replying to a couple of messages while your gaze was distracted out the window, watching the snowfall start to get thicker, coating the streets with white fluff.

“Well don’t you look absolutely stunning.” Liz’s voice broke through the silence of the room and you turned back to her with a small laugh, the smile staying on your warm cheeks as she approached you. Her hand cupped your cheek, pulling you to her for a tender kiss that you couldn’t help but relax into.

“Thank you.” You smiled across at her, “figured I should look a little extra nice considering how many nights we’ve missed recently.”

“You know you don’t have to dress up for me.” Liz replied with a small smile, kissing your cheek gently as she squeezed at your hand, “but I do deeply appreciate it.” Her fingers tangled with yours, pulling your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss on the back of it.

“With the amount you spoil me it’s the least I could do.” You replied with a quiet laugh, draining your drink before placing the cup down on a side table. Liz hummed, her eyes dropping to your bracelet on the arm she still held up. Her gaze focused on it, eyes narrowing slightly as she examined it, her brow beginning to furrow. “What?” You asked, heart picking up in your chest as you watched her expression harden.

“This bracelet… it’s awfully personal.” Her hand dropped yours before circling your wrist, twisting your arm back and fourth to examine the jewelry.

“It’s my birthstone, yeah.” You laughed awkwardly “surrounded by yours.”

Her eyes examined it for a moment longer, pulling your wrist closer until she let out a small huff, “that’s not blue topaz, those are diamonds. They’re pulling the light from the sapphires, where did you get this?”

“You.” You chuckled again, feeling your heartbeat pick up in your chest, “one of those little secret Santa gifts you’ve been leaving.”

“It’s not from me.”

“Liz, there’ve been so many packages delivered I can’t even keep track of them, you probably ordered it months ago and forgot.”

“That’s Buccellati. I think I would remember spending that much money on you.” She scoffed, dropping your arm as she turned from you with an eye roll. “And half of those gifts were a don’t open until Christmas.”

“I just said I couldn’t keep track.” You retorted, feeling the annoyance beginning to build up through your veins.

“And I know that’s not from me.” She replied, frustration bubbling up inside of her, she’d been dealing with so much already she’d just wanted to have a nice night out and now this was ruining everything. Then again, maybe things had been ruined before she’d even realized, “diamonds mean someone born in April, or someone that likes you an awful lot and you don’t keep in touch with any family and not to offend but none of your friends could afford that.”

“I told you, it’s from you.” Your voice hardened and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Come on y/n, you’re better than that. That’s the oldest lie in the book.” She picked up a bottle of scotch, pouring out a few ounces and taking a swig as she spoke, “go around galivanting with someone else and when you get caught gaslight your partner into thinking it was them all along.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been so distant!” Her voice raised ever so lightly, tensing as she spoke, her mouth tightening in that all too familiar pissed off way. “I’ve barely seen you all month, you always wait until the morning to call me back, your texts are far and few in between and the few times I’ve tried to stop by your apartment you’re out! God.” She shook her head with a heavy laugh, “I don’t know how I didn’t put it together earlier that you were seeing someone else.”

“Did you just accuse me of cheating on you?!” Anger jolted through you as you immediately saw red, an offended scoff leaving your lips.

“Well how else would you explain it!?” Her hands flailed in your general direction.

“You’re the one who keeps cancelling fucking dates Liz! I’ve been completely accommodating of your work schedule and how demanding it’s been recently. You’ve barely seen me because you keep blowing me off! Sorry that I’m not at your beck and call, I was trying to give you space and time to regroup from work! I didn’t realize I was supposed to mope around my apartment and wait for you to find a sliver of time for me, sorry that I have other friends to spend time with who actually give a shit.”

“So you admit you’ve been seeing someone?”

“I’m not fucking doing this.” Your hands shot up in surrender, “you’re being insane all over a fucking bracelet.”

“A seven thousand dollar bracelet!” She snapped back, “what would you like to do, go through my bank records?”

“No.” Grabbing your coat you headed for the door, “you can do that yourself and wake up from this fucking delusion where I would cheat on you. I cannot believe you would ever accuse me of something like that, I thought you trusted me!”

The door was pulled open and you were halfway down the steps by the time she called after you, “fine! Walk out on another fucking date, no surprise there!”

**

Christmas Eve was finally upon you and instead of being out celebrating like you thought you would be, you were curled up in the bay window of your apartment watching the snow coat the city in a thick blanket. The remnants of Chinese takeout splayed across the coffee table while the television blared quietly in the background, some marathon of holiday movies still going.

Letting out a heavy sigh you picked up the bottle of wine from beside you, topping up your glass before taking a sip as your gaze redirected out into the night once again. You hadn’t heard from Liz in nearly two weeks, the two of you no doubt trapped in a game of ‘Say Uncle’, waiting for the other to admit they were wrong before any reconciling could begin. It wasn’t the first time you’d fought and if things started moving forward again you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, she was strong willed and always would be. You were hoping that this time in light of the holiday season maybe you would be getting an apology but it appeared she was digging her heels in, burying herself in work while trying to push the image of you with another woman out of her head rather than talking her way through it.

You’d spent some time thinking about it, imagining the last couple of months from Liz’s point of view and you were starting to maybe see where she was coming from. There had been more time apart than usual, more nights of cancelled dates spent apart rather than her coming home late from work to find you making her home warm and welcoming. You’d been busy, actually accepting the offers for holiday parties and meet ups with friends in town for the season rather than sitting around bored at home. But you reminded yourself that just because she might have had the excuse to be suspicious didn’t mean the argument and her accusation was justified.

Letting out another sigh as you sucked back your wine you were debating reheating some leftover Chinese, your stomach beginning to rumble when your attention was pulled to the door. Your head tilted for a moment, wondering if you were hearing things from the television or not but the second knocking came though loud and clear. A small groan escaped your lips as you untangled yourself from the blanket, stretching out stiff muscles as you padded through your apartment to the door, pulling it open to a very lavish bouquet of poinsettias and red and white roses, it was only after a moment that you realized who was holding it.

“Thomas?” You let out a huff, “seriously, she’s making you do her bidding on Christmas Eve? You deserve a break, and a raise. If she can’t be bothered to drop them off herself I don’t want them.”

“Her?” He asked with a tilt of the head.

“Liz.” You rolled your eyes, “I knew she liked having minions to do shit like this but this is so not cool.”

“Ms. Donnelly?” His nose scrunched, “no, these are from me.”

“Oh.” You stalled in your movement, taking a step back from the door to open it wider, “I guess… come in then.”

“Thanks.” He flashed you a smile, quickly stepping into the apartment, following you so he could place the bouquet down on the kitchen island.

“You know, you really didn’t have to bring me anything.”

“Well, you’re pretty big on Christmas, aren’t you?” He gestured around your apartment, eyes sweeping through the decorations, the large tree in the corner with piles of gifts wrapped underneath it, “everyone deserves a little bit of holiday cheer.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, smiling softly across from him.

“Besides, after I saw you were actually wearing the bracelet the last time you swung through the office I figured I should stop playing secret Santa and reveal myself.” His eyes flicked down to your wrist and a frown took over his face, “but… you’re not wearing it now.”

“Hmph,” you mumbled over a sip of wine, “Liz and I got into a big fight over it, kinda left a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Oh…” He stuttered a moment, wringing his hands while he gathered his words and you took another sip of your drink, “I thought it looked quite nice. You know, my birthday’s in April, always thought diamonds and sapphires complimented each other well.”

The wine glass in your hand paused halfway back to the kitchen island and you did your best to not let it show on your face as ice began to run through your veins. The wheels were spinning in your brain, trying to make it make sense and if there was ever a moment to trust your gut, you knew this was it. Before you could fully process everything Thomas spoke again,

“I like what you did with the shadowboxes,” he gestured to the wall above the television, “they had them in your favourite colour too, but I thought that might clash with the rest of the room. I’m glad the silver looks so nice.”

“Thanks…” The glass finally met the island gently as your fingers slipped off it, gripping the edge of the counter.

“Oh and that blanket!” His eyes lit up with excitement when he saw the one you’d previously been curled up in, “isn’t it the softest thing you’ve ever felt?” You nodded slowly, “bought one for myself when I picked it up.” He was nearly two steps into your living room by the time you found your voice, clearing your throat before you spoke.

“Hey Thomas…”

“Yeah?” He whipped around, a gleam in his eye and wide smile on his face.

“How did you know where I live?” You asked slowly, keeping your tone calm and cool in an attempt to keep him in the same mood he was in currently, completely unaware that the hair on the back of your neck was standing up.

“After our date at Trattoria we shared a cab.” He reminded you, “dropped you off first.”

“Date…” You nodded slowly, an unsure smile on your lips.

“Well,” he laughed, “I guess it would’ve been more of a date if you’d let me pay for dinner, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Uh-huh.” You picked up your wine glass again, taking another sip as you watched him take in your apartment, “you know, my name’s not on a buzzer. You go knocking on everyone’s doors?”

“Nope.” He smiled brightly over at you, “told the cabbie to wait that night, wanting to make sure you got in alright. I saw your light flick on when you got in, just did my own investigative work to figure out which suite was yours.”

“I’ll add detective to your resume.” You gently teased and he chuckled, his fingers trailing over the back of your couch while his eyes dragged through your living room.

“Chow mein noodles…” he muttered, “I should’ve known.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at himself, “hope you didn’t mind the shanghai ones I had sent over.”

“Hmm?” Your brow raised in his direction as your stomach began to churn.

“A couple of weeks ago.” He laughed softly, “you said you were dreading cooking dinner so I thought I’d help out a bit.”

“That was you…” You asked with a breath, feeling your heart starting to thud heavily in your chest.

“Well yeah.” He smiled brightly, “who else would it be?”

“Tell me something… how many times have you sent stuff to my apartment?”

“Food? At least once a week, I mean, you can’t forget to eat, it’s important.”

“Sure is.”

“The other stuff? Depended.” He shrugged, “I figured it’s Christmas so you should get treated a little more than usual, flowers, treats. I went through your Amazon list,” he nodded toward the tree, “though I’m figuring some of that’s still under there.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because you deserve it.” He stepped toward you and you fought every instinct in your brain to step back, not wanting to get a negative response out of him, “you’re so beautiful, so kind and sweet. I mean, it didn’t take much to fall in love with you.”

“Oh Thomas I—”

“Was I too secretive with my Santa game?” He laughed, “did you not realize they were all from me?”

“No.. no I did not.”

“Well, surprise.” He replied with a sheepish grin, “I was your secret admirer.”

“I didn’t even realize I had one.” You replied with an awkward laugh, praying that he would stay the two feet away from you he currently was.

“What’d you mean?” He asked, his face falling, “who did you think they were from?”

“Well, to be completely honest, Liz.”

“Ms. Donnelly?” His face scrunched, “why would any of them be from her?”

“Because I am her girlfriend.” Liz’s voice growled through the apartment and you jumped, having not realized the door had never been shut behind Thomas. You had no idea how long she had been standing there or how much she had heard but one thing was clear; she was absolutely livid. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“It’s practically Christmas.” He gestured around, “I thought that was the best time to make romantic declarations.”

“Is that so?” Liz asked, her brow raising before whatever was in her hands found home on the entry way table and a dark gleam took over her eyes. “How about I tell you what the best thing to do is right now?” She stepped towards him and he visibly gulped, “you’re going to get the hell out of here and you’re never going to set foot on this block ever again. If I so much as catch a glimpse of you attempting to nose your way into her life, I’ll sick Stabler on you, understood?”

“Yes Ms. Donnelly.” He nodded, shrinking around himself as he ducked his gaze, attempting to step around her to get over to the door.

“And I think it’s very clear you don’t need to show up at work after the holidays, you’re fired. Don’t expect any good references either.”

She followed him toward the door, making sure he was scurrying his way to the stairs before she swung it shut behind him, flicking the lock for extra security. Her eyes closed for a moment and she took a deep breath before turning to you, noticing the way you were clutching the counter so tight your knuckles were white.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her voice impeccably soft as she cautiously stepped toward you, a hand soothing its way up your arm and you looked up at her, a slight shake in your voice.

“Kinda feel like I’m gonna be sick.” You ran your hand over your face, letting out a low breath, “god I was so stupid, how could I not realize?” You leant back into the counter, “I really did think it was you sending me everything.”

“Everything?” Her brow raised as her arm wound around your waist, pulling you to her so she could leave a soft kiss on your temple. “It wasn’t just the flowers?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at the lavish bouquet that you wanted nothing more than to toss in the garbage, “he’s been sending me things for months, and I don’t even know what was him and what was you.”

“Has he been following you?” She asked, worry taking over her voice.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, “we split a cab after drinks one night, dropped me off first but who knows, that was probably part of the plan.”

“I thought I was going overboard mentioning Stabler but now I’m starting to think it may be a good idea.” Her eyes swept through your apartment, taking in all the new trinkets that hadn’t been there the last time she was, “I’m going to get him to run Thomas’ name, do a more thorough background check, and let’s get you out of here, you’re staying at my place until New Years.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She squeezed at your hand.

“You’re not…  mad anymore?” You asked and her face fell before she let out a weary sigh, shaking her head.

“Absolutely not. I was over worked and stressed and came to a very wrong conclusion when I should have seen how suspicious that was from a different angle.”

“You know I’d never cheat on you, right?” You couldn’t help the tears swimming into your eyes, both at the question and the fact that you were pretty shaken up considering your evening.

“Oh sweetheart.” Liz stepped forward again, her hands cupping your cheeks as she leant in to kiss you, her lips brushing against yours while she spoke, “of course I do. I know how much you love me and I love you even more than you could imagine. I’m so sorry I said those terrible things. You’re the greatest partner I could ask for, always so understanding when I have to shuffle things around, I should be praising the ground you walk on.”

“Okay well now you’re going overboard.” You let out a watery laugh, smiling as you leant forward to kiss her again.

“Nonsense.” She kissed the tip of your nose, “my girl deserves the absolute best.”

“The absolute best would be getting the fuck out of here; I feel like I need to burn half my belongings.” You shuddered and she squeezed at your shoulders, directing you toward the door.

“Grab what you need. We can come back in a couple of days to sort through everything and figure out what came from that creep and what I had sent over.”

“Okay.” You slipped into your coat, grabbing your bag grabbing Liz quickly before she ushered you out the door “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you more sweetheart.”

You’d fully calmed down a couple of hours later, curled up in Liz’s arms on her couch at her very comfortable and very private brownstone. A warm glow casted from the fully decorated tree in the corner, the main source of light in the room as Christmas movies played on the television and fluffy snowflakes drifted through the air outside. You let out a soft sigh, burrowing further into her embrace and in return her arm squeezed at you, her lips brushing against your hairline as the curved up into a smile. You both knew that no matter what the world threw at you, you had each other, you were safe and loved and there was no one else you’d rather spend the holidays or your lives with.

__________________

@svulife-rl @mickey-gomez @yesterdaysgone @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @alexxavicry @rainbowelshrhian @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @kdaghay @svushots @onmykneesformarvel @kalixxh @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @imlike-so-gaydude @gay-frogs08 @baubeautyandthegeek

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Q/U/X is for -- Ulysses

Writing for Ulysses always seems to transport me to another world, I swear, he just-- His way of speaking, and the general air about the man is all just... ethereal, in a way? I don't know, but he makes me feel like more of a poet than I've ever been, lol.

And the dialogue prompt he got had me on the floor, it's just SO accurate and perfect for him and Six. Ugh.

Anywho, I hope you guys like it!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

--

Pair: Ulysses x g/n! Six

Dialogue: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Word: Unite

Rating: SFW

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

“Um, well, I suppose I should be leaving, then. Ulysses.” Six stepped away from the pair’s close proximity slowly, backing up while still facing him. 

To hold our eye contact, or to make sure I don't stab them in the back?

“You’re not leaving.” 

Though the words commanded Six's attention, the way he voiced it was more of a question than an order. 

Ulysses couldn’t tell if that put them at ease or not.

“Well, I… Why you’d want to be around me at all, after everything I’ve learned about myself... I don’t blame you for wanting me dead, is all. Figure I should leave before you act on it though, right?” 

Six’s voice was nervous, but there was a sadness that Ulysses detected there as well. A shame, even. 

They should feel ashamed for what they’ve done… But then, is the shame enough of a consequence on its own? Does it absolve them of their wrongdoings, if they are pained by it this way, even without memory of the action itself? 

“What about my behavior has told you that I plan on acting on what I spoke about in our first meeting?” 

Ulysses was closer to them now, looking down the point of his mask to their large eyes, wide with… was it fear? 

Still?

“I don’t know, I just… I understand why you were so furious, why you sought me out, I couldn’t imagine… If I had a home, and someone took it from me, well, I’d like to think I would’ve done the same as you did. Only, maybe less honorably.” 

A soft snort escaped the mask, and Six could see some semblance of sympathy shining within the dark depths of Ulysses’ intense eyes. 

“That, in itself, is honorable to say.” They couldn’t pull their gaze from his, and as his compliment met their ears, a smooth tingle of relief wove up their spine. Ulysses could see it, from his perspective, the way they sought his forgiveness. 

That too, was honorable. 

He couldn’t help but admire the courier then. Then… and now. Now, as he shared his tent with them. A temporary home, but still some fragment of the place of belonging that they both craved so wholly. 

And how could he blame them? With their memories, as shoddy and incomplete as the crude camps he’d often made himself to stifle that wound in his chest that the Divide was meant to fill.  

They didn’t even know who they were, what they’d done, or why. It was a struggle he himself could not quite imagine. 

“I can’t believe I’m here…” 

Ulysses heard them say, perhaps to themself, as they turned and dropped their pack back to its place near to his sleeping mat. 

“I mean, I thought you hated me… That you would never forgive me, never stop… trying to kill me.” 

“Hate and love are but cousins;” Ulysses told them, stepping closer as they rounded to face him again, “Passion drawn from deep within and showcasing itself in the most intense forms available to us. The difference is but one instant.” 

And that instant is now. 

Ulysses’ impassioned gaze told them, near amber in color, with the emotion blazing within them. The simple look itself sent an overwhelming shiver down the courier’s spine. 

“But, hold on.” They said, before his stare had a chance to hold them prisoner for eternity, “Everything I’ve done, I mean… Your second chance, your home, a place away from the Legion, a new start, it was all yours, until me. How... how could you look past that?" 

Ulysses could easily see the struggle within them from the outside, just as much as he heard it in their words. 

Is it so hard for them to detect my own inner thoughts? 

After the nights they’d shared, they’d had to share during the massive dust storm that could’ve claimed both their lives, had they not had each other; how could they not see the way his view of them has changed? 

Six had seen him all those nights. His perseverance, his will, yes, that they knew of before the pair had properly even met. No, but those nights, they’d seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. The man behind the mask, the one who longs for a place to call his own, a place to belong, after a lifetime of feeling wrong. 

Wrong for turning his back on the Twisted Hairs with the illusion of not having a choice, wrong for being a part of the Legion, the very same faction that murdered and enslaved his people, that eradicated them from the map and from memory. Then, maybe wrongly too, he’d turned his back on the Legion as well. 

Had he no honor? Had he not a decisive mind? No allegiance? No loyalty? 

Who was Ulysses, if not a Twisted Hair, if not a Frumentarius, if not a courier? 

So wholeheartedly he had always formed his identity around that which he was forced to follow, to be a part of, even against his own wishes. 

His wishes, that now he had the freedom to consider. 

And Ulysses did. 

Even now, he was considering Six. The courier who’d seen him, a blank slate, with not even themself for Ulysses to obsess over. No, now all was out in the open. No holotapes, no hiding, no mystery, and yet, Six accepted him, forgave him, allied themself with him... 

It was true. Ulysses had made up his mind now, and he’d done it on his own, wholly. 

“My new start?” He said, his voice rumbling so softly from within his mask, that Six had to lean in close to catch his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I merely had to reflect to see it. To look back on my past, and on yours. The way that you’ve shaped me, without even knowing it.”

Six blinked at him, and their mouth fell slightly agape in their shock. 

 “Our stories are comparable, Six. Both alone, with a rich past, but no idea who we truly are. Not when your memory was taken from you, and my individuality. Together though, I see a change in both of us. I see what I thought was stolen forever from me, by you.”

Ulysses took another step forward, his chest just barely brushing Six’s as he took a deep breath in, his eyes locked to theirs, dark hair curtaining an intense, but pleading expression. 

And there it was again, that vulnerability that the ex-soldier, ex-spy, had never been able to show another living soul, and it was showing plain in his expression, sounding so clearly in his voice, that it was effortless. 

Six made it effortless for him to be genuine with them. 

It was something he could find himself getting used to, he thought. 

“With you,” He continued, raising one hand to brush the roughened tips of his fingers to Six’s chin. Affectionate, but subtle. “I see a future for us both.”

[gremlin-bot]

Dear God, why do you know that name‽

Jason was going to kill Roy, that orange haired fuck. He had better watch his goddamn back. When he told him that he'd been looking for some low-effort games with romance he could play during the very little free time he had, he didn’t expect to be gifted a bunch of raunchy-ass monsterfucker games.

He hates it even more, now that he's gone and gotten invested! Yeah, the main character can be shitty, but the story and concepts had him hooked!

Who wouldn't be fascinated by the implications of a former death god that tends to their garden! Hikmat deserves better than fucking Allen.

Speaking of the Allen in his life, one Tim Drake was bitching about the plan… again. Sometimes the replacement could be so smart, yet still so fucking dumb. It’s not like he wasn’t going to just go against the plan after the meeting, like he always did.

"Hey, discount Allen, if you don't shut up about the plan-" Jason starts, cut off by Tim slapping a hand indignantly to his chest.

"Allen‽ As in the-'' Tim cries vehemently before cutting himself off. Did… did he get the fucking reference? Jason hopes he didn't but going by that slight glare he was getting, Tim absolutely did.

Well, shit. Looks like his actions have consequences today.

"So, we're just gonna ignore that?" Duke asked the now quiet gaggle of bats. Only to be met with a unanimous yes, it seems like the family is tired of both Jason and Tim's bullshit today.

-----------

Tim has so many questions and frankly, he's not sure if he wants answers to most of them. Finding out that Jason has (probably) played the one visual novel where the main character that looks eerily like him gets dicked down by big hot monster men, was not something he expected would happen during a briefing. And by calling him fucking Allen of all things!

Allen‽‽

Allen was an asshat, but Tim could see Jason's point in calling him Allen. He hates it, but he can see it, even if he would never admit it out loud.

This still begs the question of why Jason plays that game. 

What better way to break the tense silence that leached into the atmosphere? It's not like they had anything better to do during their stake out.

"So Hood, are you gonna tell me why you, (presumably), played the raunchy visual novel with a main character that looks a little too much like me?" Tim asked as he scanned the windows of the warehouse once again.

Jason, to his credit, didn't hesitate to answer.

"I don't know Red, why did you play a raunchy visual novel with a main character that looks a little too much like yourself?" Jason sassed back to Tim, who raised an eyebrow in response

They stared each other down, neither willing to cave. Jason broke first.

"We agree to never speak about Allen again?" Jason proposes. Surprising, but still in line for him.

"Is the rest of the game still up for discussion?" Tim inquired thoughtfully. He hasn't been able to talk about the implication of the game's magic systems with anyone and it drove him a little crazy, he’d take anyone at this point.

Jason scoffed,"Of course!"

"Deal." Tim stuck out his hand, shaking Jason’s. "Okay, so Momo-"

"Of-fucking-course you'd go for him!"

[rosetheocto]

Hi! Hope this ask finds ya at a good time.

I was wondering what characters from Failtopia you think have a lot of angst potential (besides Erica—I do really like her, but I admit I feel like the majority of the community ignores most of the others). Personally, I'd say both Shrimp and Friend have backstories that allow for a rollercoaster of emotions.

AGGH THE ANGST POTENTIAL THIS SERIES HAS IS SO FUN TO WORK WITH!!! Long rant under the cut!

Friend and Shrimp are definitely good characters to explore with the trauma they’ve gotten before/during the series. As much as people talk about Friend and Lee together, we need more people talking about Friend’s emotions in the aftermath of Lee’s betrayal. Lee was very much abusive to Friend and their relationship (no matter if you see it as romantic or platonic) was undeniably very toxic!! And Shrimp literally had her father leave her to go exploring or whatever he did in that D&D stream (idk I didn’t watch it fully) AND she got bullied at a young age for her dream of being a singer, plus being on a world saving team at the age of 14 isn’t exactly the best thing to happen to a child like her!

I’d also like to mention Mar has amazing angst potential! dude had to witness first hand the effects The Consequences Of His Actions had on Miitopia from the hero’s side, and it is NOT PRETTY. Plus a good chunk of his now teammates were had to deal with this twice, the first time being directly his fault! like. Mar hurt members of his family! Yea it was in the past before The Incident’s formation, but you can’t tell me he doesn’t feel SUPER guilty about it!! Imagine how he felt with Hank’s reveal!! He was just as much to blame for Lee’s villain arc as C!Fail was. I think more people should seriously explore Mar as a character cuz he is so interesting to me

This may seem like a strange one too but.. Simple Bob!! If there’s any angst in this series that’s overlooked, it’s his. He’s a demon hunter, not only that but just like Erica, he’s had people die on him before, with absolutely nothing he could do to save them since he’s not a healer! Punnyatta, Bob’s mentor, was killed by Hank not long before the events of S1. I just wish Bob got better treatment since all his demon hunter stuff is so interesting to me and has a lot of potential!

Rose is also good for angst too since she had to fake so much stuff just to keep up her Rosalina thing! Like, where does Rosalina end and Rose start?? She’s got a whole identity crisis more, and her becoming a worse person as the season goes on is also really cool to me!! Deko obviously has a lot of interesting stuff too that (just like Bob) gets kinda looked over. DUDE WAS EXPERIMENTED ON!! He was ridiculed for something he couldn’t control and permanently changed himself because of it. and that isn’t even mentioning meeting an alternate version of himself who’s better off than him in every way. Dude’s self esteem was low before, but now it’s in the GUTTER. Dude’s struggling

There’s so much more I wanna say but I don’t want this to get too long lol, but I swear you can make some good angst with any character (even Joker’s ‘canon’ story, with him being in an unfamiliar world and all)

[im-out-of-it]

season 2, episode 2 “a door into the dark” also this is sort of long

1. “the law is hard but it is the law” does this shit extend to shadowhunters who murder any downworlders they so please and allow them to get away with it????

2. oh so because some downworlders can multiply and shadowhunters can’t?????? Valentine has to go do something about it??????? someone do the math because more downworlders are probably dying. if shadowhunters die, it’s because either they aren’t prepared for battle, they go into battle stupid thinking they can overtake their enemies. y’all can literally procreate and create as many shadowhunters as y’all want

3. “you could have portaled me to the clave, but did you?” LITERALLY VALENTINE IS SAYING THE SAME SHIT I WAS. Jace didn’t surrender to the clave, he didn’t send Valentine to the clave, and he’s chosen to leave with Valentine TWICE. Valentine wasn’t torturing jace in episode 13 of season one and forcing him to leave. JACE CHOSE TO LEAVE in case he was “bad” or whatever

4. like you don’t just join a villain because you think there’s something terrible inside of you. you stop your whining, work on yourself, and try to better yourself. I can sympathize with someone who is having an identity crisis but not with Jace. he never thinks about how his actions affect everyone else until it’s too late. Alec as of this next episode has almost died twice trying to protect jace and also requested him for help

5. I mean she literally hid that you’re a shadowhunter for 17 years while being on the run so is Jocelyn’s actions that shocking????? I’m just saying clary doesn’t know her mother AT ALL

6. yes and I applaud her for it. just let that ungrateful bastard die and stay dead

7. “there’s so much you don’t know.” “oh and whose fault is that?” I mean clary has a point. Jocelyn kept so many secrets and expected clary to be okay with it

8. now y’all got me defending clary fucking hell

9. “I’m a victim here too, we all are.”-jocelyn. oh how I love when people call themselves victims so you’ll try to feel bad for them lmao if you’re for real a victim, I stand with you but there’s something about someone pulling that shit so you feel pity for them makes me feel uneasy. Jocelyn is such a pick me girl and feel bad for me please girl

10. enter demon flower killing child

11. Jocelyn was right about the being the evil part

12. “your brother would only leave death and destruction”- well Jocelyn was also right about this as well. it’s funny how they tried to make jace “the good person” but he’s not. he’s selfish, conceited, and always does whatever he wants. he may not be who Jocelyn is referring to but jace is not a good person. I don’t even think he has the capability to change and be better. he’s constantly going to think about what he wants

13. Simon: I don’t get paid enough for this

14. ah shit, Raphael will be coming for your ass and not in a good way

15. I feel for Alec because he was close to getting jace back and he’s lost him again. I don’t like jace and I wish alec wasn’t so hung up on the idea of losing him but it makes me sad for Alec

16. Alec showdown part 3 (GO OFF KING 🔥)

17. MY BOY ATE DELIVERED CONQUERED AND LEFT NO DUST

18. okay though, what did he say that wasn’t true? Izzy was almost deruned because jace and clary left with the cup because they thought they knew better. Alec constantly saved clary’s ass just to get her mother back and he took the blame, as well as the treatment from Maryse and jace. Alec has had nothing but problems since clary arrived and I haven’t really seen her think through the consequences of her actions. Alec has had to deal with all of the consequences. Alec has every right to be upset and clary being like he’s my brother too but you haven’t spent the last ten years knowing him.

19. whatever bond Alec and jace have, it started ten years ago. clary meets jace for a few days and automatically think she knows him better than Alec does. and “I’m not my mother” but yet you create problems while you have other people take care of them? and I never once saw clary talk to Izzy or apologize after Izzy was almost deruned. the Lightwood family but mainly Alec paid for the consequences for her actions. yeah saying I’m not my mother but Magnus calling Jocelyn out for the same behavior Alec does just feels right.

20. Alec said what he said and he meant what he said and he did not fucking stutter and he will say it again

21. oh Alec made clary cry but guess we are even because clary almost ruined Alec’s whole family. Izzy almost loses being a shadowhunter, the lightwoods reputation was tarnished for a while, alec gets an arranged marriage, and then has to deal with all the emotional turmoil of that AND he loses jace (which means nothing to me) so yes clary is to blame for a lot of that but jace deserves the blame just as much.

28. let’s be fair, we aren’t close to being even

29. “your lack of training is a liability”-now you got me agreeing with aldertree fucking hell

30. Alec: there’s no place for you here. what I’ve been saying since the first episode

31. cue sad music so clary can go and pity herself 🙄

32. finally clary says something true and Izzy is being supportive as always

33. ok leave then lmao

34. I mean, clary isn’t a good shadowhunter. someone who only thinks about themselves and puts everyone else in danger shouldn’t be a shadowhunter (Alec is like we don’t need you bye bitch)

35. and if she wants to be a shadowhunter, she needs to go through extensive training and get a new personality and brain (and I’ll never understand how she’s a leader in the books. but then again, clary is CC’s self insert so it does make sense in a way)

36. aw Simon just got told off poor soul but it’s about to get worse and I have a feeling Simon would rather face the wolves

37. Simon, ya just fucked up

38. honestly it looks like Valentine is running more of a zoo than some group of people

39. Valentine: im asking for humanity. while you go out and kill innocent people????? honestly he should be have’s father because they’re alike in many ways.

40. jocelyn is all like omg clary ran away! where did she learn that from??????

41. Alec: there is only one person who calls me that and you are not him

41. Izzy is amused but Alec is not having it 😭 but this will make it better lmao

42. Alec: I’ve never been prouder of my little sis

43. Simon has asked for Magnus’s help because let’s be honest, he can’t find Camille on his own

44. Simon: I hate this

45. Magnus: have you met Camille? (I also love his face here)

46. but Magnus is open to helping Simon (and he’s going to be having a big day helping and saving people)

47. for a price (sorry it’s not free Simon, you’re not Alexander) (also Magnus looks pretty)

48. Simon: BUT MY JUNK MAGNUS

49. I love how helpful and kind Magnus is. Simon went through the vampire transformation before he was changed alone and then he sort of had Raphael’s help after he changed as well as Luke’s. Clary wasn’t there for him much which to be fair, he didn’t want to kill her and control his thirst more- (I wouldn’t have faulted him for it) but before he was a vampire, clary wasn’t there for him. but Magnus is here for him and willing to aid Simon and I think that’s thoughtful. Magnus and simons friendship is another one of my favorite friendships in the show

and I’ll stop at 50 because that should be easy to remember but there’s like 20 ish minutes left so I’ll start part 2 later today ✨

[back-of-the-dodo]

I’ve got this jjk au where gojo ended up with mimiko and nanako but doesn’t defect & geto ends up with megumi (and tsumiki but I’ll get into that later) but still defects

gojo does full girl dad and raises the twins because he wants to give them the childhood that was taken away from them but they both end up becoming jujutsu sorcers anyway (but they end up in nobara & yuji’s year because *looks at smudged ink on hand* plot reasons)

but geto takes care of megs and t except that because of him tsumiki gets put under the coma curse way earlier (like a year into being under geto’s care) and this wasn’t on purpose on geto’s part but also he could have done a little more right to protect this kid so he’s sorta just stuck with megumi but because the two don’t have the same connection that the twins and geto did in canon, they don’t really care about each other and are more trying to make the best out of a bad situation. Megumi reminds geto too much of toji and megumi doesn’t actually have anyone anymore because tsumiki’s basically gone.

But Because of geto’s powers being so similar to megumi’s, megumi’s training progresses waay faster than in canon & is able to master a majority of his shikigami the jjk movie goes down the same way Except now, megumi’s pretty op but doesn’t have much allegiance to geto (now kenjaku) & when kenjaku pulls up and is like hey wanna help out with this end the world thingy megs is just kinda like “no I’m good” & when he meets itadori and itadori’s like no we don’t have to kill non-sorcerers?? Megumi becomes like a very uninspired ally

and he would have joined jujustu high but when he asked if they could wake tsumiki up & they couldn’t he kinda just say fuck it I’ll just leave then but anyways the rest of the au is just the main trying to befriend megumi

also he’s like a triple threat to gojo because bam he reminds you of the guy that killed you and also his son that you failed because toji asked you to do something about it but the other person you failed royally fucked this kid up so he’s a constant reminder of literally all of gojo’s failures nicely wrapped into one fucked up kid who’s never really known what it means to be loved by a family or have any normal friends

At the end of the day though gojo can’t change the past and had to accept that the best he can do now is support him but also teach him a bit of empathy because that wasn’t really geto “i killed my parents” suguru’s priority with megumi

also megumi wears traditional japanese garb like geto but covers his lower face because geto didn’t like seeing him (he didn’t tell megumi to do this, meg just did it himself to avoid as much conflict as possible) and he has long hair with no bangs that he usually keeps in a braid because geto enjoyed taking care of meg’s hair and given that that was kinda meg’s only soft connection w/ geto he unintentionally leans into it

I think the difficult (read: fun) part of this au is that geto isn’t like actively a worse person than he is in canon and any abuse he inflicts on megumi isn’t malicious or on purpose, he’s just a super emotionally unavailable highly unstable racist cult leader, but also his actions still have consequences so megumi’s got this fun little eldest daughter syndrome type thing going on you know?

[theundeadgospel]

I’m still sobbing over the fact our DM finally took our training wheels off in COS,,she’s been relatively tame so far up until last session when Strahd murdered our Dhampir then told us hi you’re level 6 now welcome to the REAL COS game :’))))

Granted, my party isn’t dumb. We’re not going to get a TPK unlike her other COS groups lmao and a lot of my party members are very clever. It’s not harder mechanic wise — it’s hard choice driven wise. Our actions have strict consequences now that Strahd is reintroduced. And it’s so fucking heartbreaking.

Because she snapped during the friendly war games and, in a fit of provoking and PTSD, accidentally killed a platoon of men and one of our party members she’s back though thank god for her weird ass demon father. Which caused the knights of Hallowbrook to decide between execution or banishment. The inn keeper, the domain lord, keeps trying to insist she’s a better person and Kass really didn’t want to hurt anyone — to which more than half of his knights retorted with she’s a fucking monster, a danger, and deserves to die.

In this campaign, Vashka is an even bigger threat than Kass because she lost all of her humanity — Kass still acts based off of human emotion and love, which is what led to all these poor choices. Same with Bethanne — because of her humanity, she’s a flawed undead that acts out of panic and love, which indirectly caused the deaths of others. So by executing Kass, Vashka becomes the new BBEG — and even more insane threat to everyone. Kass hasn’t even long rested yet and is still more than likely having a mental breakdown while the knights are prepping themselves with silver weaponry and rooting for her slaughter weeps. And now it’s up to the party to roll good enough or act good enough in my case even though I do have the paladin’s charismatic advantage to convince the inn keeper and his men to stand down — and get Kass to actually speak with us before she fucking dies :’)))) which is. so nerve wracking. christ.

The whole party is separated rn too. Only our dwarf, Morian, overhead this and managed to quell some fires luckily. He’s our other theatric player aside from me. Beth and her centaur friend Elias managed to reconvene with Myrkul and he took her back under his wing thank fucking god and even brought back his dead lover — with no memory whatsoever of who Elias is, reanimated in some random area for them to meet again. Because a Myrkulite managed to change a Lathanderite’s vision on undead, making Beth now in charge of keeping it that way and to continue breaking the stigma on undead. Yona. our satyr, is off sobbing to Kelemvor about all that happened. Oren, our changeling, shit faced drunk and passed out. Nova, our half elf, just trying to get by. Aphrodite, our dhampir, being resurrected somewhere we don’t know. Everyone is split and we’re running out of time. Beth has 0 fucking idea that the knights are planning on ambushing and murdering Kass.

We can’t fight them either — the inn keeper and Kass are both level 20’s. The knights are his men. We have to actually rely solely on performance and dice rolls for this one wheezes,,, and either manage to save Kass, make an enemy out of the entirety of Hallowbrook, or fail and watch her die. There’s really no winning here.

listen my DM chooses rule of cool and theatrics above dice rolls in tense situations a lot and I am the most theatric person here lmao the only reason Beth managed to get Myrkul’s attention was not because of my d100, but because I voiced a full mental breakdown of her monologuing and pleading for him to help her and her party before we had a tpk. and I’ll fucking do it again with a full mental breakdown in front of the knights to spare Kass’ life smh this campaign is HELL