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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer General Profile

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x fem! reader

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, heavy manipulation, threats of violence, threats of assault, mind breaks, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of non-con, non-consensual touching, mentions of somnophilia, mentions of cum, threats, Chrollo has a god complex but what else is new, Uvogin is mean to you but he doesn't mean it I promise!, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

His darling doesn’t need to be a genius or anything like that, but they do need to posses a certain degree of intelligence.

Chrollo considers himself a well-read, cultured man, and he feels that his partner needs to match his level of worldly awareness, of cognitive ability. It doesn’t need to necessarily lie in the same fields as his own (though he can’t deny that it would be absolutely wonderful to have a darling who enjoys the same types of literature as him, the same philosophers, the same composers), but they must have a certain area that they hold an above average amount of knowledge in.

He finds intelligence attractive, and what initially causes him to develop an interest in his darling is largely due to the showcasing of this knowledge and smarts. He’s entranced the moment his darling opens his mouth, eagerly hanging onto their every word and nodding along, actually finding himself enjoying speaking with them.

He doesn’t have to pretend to be interested in their words for his own gain, rather finding himself genuinely wondering about their opinion on this or that, curious like a child.

He finds his darling fascinating, and a smart darling will get him falling faster, harder, deeper, to the point where Chrollo develops into a love-starved, desperate man who wants to learn more and more and more, aching to become an expert of his own in his favorite field; his darling.

Creative

Similarly, a darling who leans more on the creative side is a perfect match for Chrollo. It doesn’t matter where this creativity finds its medium – perhaps his darling is particularly artistic, enjoying expressing themselves with the arts.

Maybe they love to paint, watercolors and acrylics seeming to come alive under their fingers. (He’d melt if he found a work of him, the colors making him sigh and dreamily trace the lines, joy swimming in his heart that they painted him, that he means enough to them that he’s taken a starring role in their hobby.)

Perhaps they enjoy photography, documenting small, beautiful moments in life. (He’s always trying to look his best around his darling, keeping his neck tense and posture strong, so that if they did take a sneaky, candid photo of him, they’d enjoy what they see.)

Perhaps they play an instrument, melodies ringing out and making Chrollo smile and nod along. (Learning his favorite pieces would make him struggle to not reach out and place a gentle kiss to their forehead, letting his hands wander down their shoulders and cupping their breasts, telling them he’d love to repay the favor and learn their favorite things as well.)

Maybe they enjoy knitting or crocheting, making all kinds of creations that Chrollo finds endearing. (He’d expect them to make him something, of course, subtly demanding he receives something so that when he’s away, he’ll be able to keep a piece of them with him, something made with love and care and specifically for Chrollo Lucilfer himself.)

Cooking, sewing, writing, anything and everything can fit into this category – Chrollo really just likes that his darling is thinking of him, that they spend their time doing something that makes them happy, and if he gets to be involved, all the better.

He’ll even push his way into their hobby, learning all that he can about it with eager fingers, wanting to impress his darling and make the activity into something they can bond over – a way to spend time together, a way to get them all by his side and happy, never, ever wanting to leave.

He just loves them so very much, after all.

Observant

While it would be difficult to find someone more calculating and cunning than himself, there’s something alluring about a darling who is more observant than those around them.

He likes the idea that his darling is just able to pick up on things, their eye more trained to assess those around them, to understand their motives and notice the things they do.

It’s a sign of intelligence, and once Chrollo’s obsession has formed, he’s purposefully doing things he’s hoping his darling will notice, all with the hope that they’ll spend time wondering why he’s always fiddling with his ring finger, or letting his eyes flick to them. It’s like a game to Chrollo, and he finds it beyond entertaining to watch his darling in action, seeing their expressions flit across their face as they try to interpret his odd behavior.

There’s just something that attracts him towards darling that are able to perceive their world for more than it is – he views himself as better than everyone else, a sort of God among men, but a darling that has this trait rises above the countless below him, standing out alone as a superior being, someone worthy and perfect for him.

He’s egotistical, after all, but a darling that can at least kind of match his observation skills is something that will attract him to them – whether that’s good or bad, one can’t say.

Witty

His darling certainly doesn’t need to be a comedian, but someone who can keep up with his thinly veiled banter would cause his interest to spike.

His words are almost always tinged with just the slightest amount of snark, the slightest bit of condescension that seems to be present no matter who he’s talking to.

Perhaps it’s a result of his own pride or self-confidence, but regardless, a darling who can not only pick up on this but also respond with a bit of snark as well would make him momentarily pause, before laughing a bit and wondering just how far he can push them. It excites him to have a darling who can keep up with him, bantering back and forth, and once his infatuation develops, this is one of his favorite things about his darling.

He loves that speaking with them is endless entertainment, hence how often he tries to goat them into conversations. He’s always, always asking them questions, often designed to get them speculating, philosophical questions that he’s genuinely curious to know their answer to, and in the process he gets to have a sort of playful discussion, something that makes his heart race a bit in his chest.

He just likes his darling’s ability to think on their feet, only reinforcing their intelligence and making him fall deeper, harder, more soundly.

It makes him want to keep that wit all for himself, to not let anyone else have the pleasure of indulging in his darling’s words – they’re his, and the longer his obsession festers, the more he believes in that sentiment.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Dependent

Much of what fuels Chrollo’s obsession for you is selfish in nature.

Initially, he’s interested in you because you make him feel something, some strange emotion he can’t quite place. He’s running through all the possibilities early on, wistfully trying each emotion on before discarding it.

Does he want to use you? No, you wouldn’t be especially useful - you’re not all that developed of a nen user, if one at all, so you’d just be wasted effort.

Does he want to steal something of yours? No, you don’t have anything of particular value, nor are you an important individual.

Does he want to kill you? No, something about the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He’s stumped at first, genuinely unsure of what you’re making him feel, but it’s not until he spends more time with you that he begins considering options that are more foreign to him - that is, that he may have developed more positive emotions towards you, less manipulative and more yearning.

He contemplates whether he’s fallen in love - the books he’s always perusing make love sound so obnoxious, virtuosic, grandiose, and Chrollo can’t quite say he agrees. What he feels for you is ultimately overwhelming, surely - but it’s also much more subtle, slowly taking root in every aspect of his life seemingly without him even noticing. What used to be hours spent searching out new heists and items to steal becomes twinged with just a hint of your presence.

Small thoughts in the back of his head wonder whether you’d like the diamond necklace displayed in this gallery, or how it’d look against your pretty skin, sitting in the hollow of your throat.

What used to be solitary evenings spent reading in candlelight become small daydreams about what you’d think of his current philosopher’s theories, whether you’d indulge him in hours of philosophical discussions, what your opinions on the perception of self are. What your perceptions of yourself are, and, more importantly, what your perception of him is.

It’s not too overwhelming at first; he’s mostly able to control himself, that ever composed stature of his kept carefully in place.

The thoughts are mostly just fleeting, odd off-handed curiosity about you that he doesn’t worry too much about. It’s interesting, mostly, that you’ve gotten to him at all - and it’s this, really, that drives his desire to learn more about you. The fact that you continue to become more and more intertwined with his thoughts leaves him anxiously aching for more, wanting to see the extent to which you’re able to make him feel - something he’d always thought was more or less impossible.

And what you make him feel is so, so very good; his palms are a bit clammy when he sees you, gaze raking over your figure and noting how well your shirt fits your curves, dark eyes eagerly scanning the title of the book you’re reading out of. He’s a confident man, of course, but at the prospect of approaching you and discussing the literature, he can’t help but swallow, tongue sneaking out to lick over his lips.

He feels a strange sense of peace when he’s looking at you, taking in the way the sunlight shines off of your face, the way your clothes frame your body, how your lips quirk up into a smile when you see the little bunny that hops along the grass in the public park. It’s small things, mostly, that get little butterflies fluttering in his chest – and it’s these little fleeting moments of happiness, of contentedness and fascination that lead him to believe what he’s feeling for you could be the ever famous love – or, at least, some variation of it.

Is it love when he’s letting a smile cover his features as you scrunch your brows and huff when you can’t get that stupid jar open? The way you stick your tongue out in concentration and squeeze your eyes shut is honestly adorable, forcing Chrollo’s eyes to linger on your face just a tad bit too long.

(He can’t help but imagine how you’d thank him so profusely if he opened it for you; he’d even go so far as to roll up his sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms that he knows women can’t resist. Do you fall into that category? Would you be transfixed by his strength, his physical appearance, his smooth voice when he tells you that next time call me first, please, I wouldn’t want you to struggle…)

Maybe it’s the way you look so disheveled in your oversized t-shirt and ill-fitting lounge pants as you shuffle about your apartment, completely unaware of the camera he’d had Shalnark place in your living room. You look comfortable, and there’s something about seeing you so vulnerable, so raw that gets him breathing a bit heavier.

(More than once a thought has, seemingly out of the blue, surfaced where you’re starring and wearing a dress shirt of his – white, stiff material just barely hiding the outline of your breasts and the curve of your hips, tantalizing and looking so very right on you. If that were to happen, Chrollo has already made peace with the fact that he’d hold out on washing that particular shirt – just until he’s gotten the chance to slip it on himself, occasionally sniffing the collar and getting something heavenly, something that can only be described as you and him together.)

Chrollo honestly isn’t sure what it is about you that’s gotten to him to develop feelings - he’s intrigued, earnestly trying to understand it, but as time passes and he finds himself spending more and more time simply thinking of you, he finds himself caring less.

It’s happened already - he’s in love, he’s certain, and now that he’s in that position, the only logical thing to do is pursue you. And while he tells himself it’s all because he wants to learn more about how you’ve managed to trick him into falling for you, really it’s all because he absolutely has to. The longer his infatuation goes on, the less time he can spend away from you, and the less he can justify the strength of his feelings.

He becomes restless when you’re not in his sight - his hands are shaking slightly, thin brows pinched together, every muscle in his body flexing involuntarily. His temper is heightened, irritation brewing in his chest even if he doesn’t mean it – he’s snapped at Nobunaga by accident, his words just a bit harsher, a bit more clipped when telling him the meeting time for the next month.

When he’s not been around you for long periods (a day or so), he just feels like something’s missing, something he can’t quite place. There’s a you shaped hole in his chest, and it turns Chrollo into something of an addict going through withdrawals - he’s become too dependent on the way you make something warm bloom in his chest, and the moment he’s without it, he’s counting down the seconds until he can return to you, return to the calmness and serenity of being around you.

And when you smile at him, answer his questions, brush your hand against his when he hands you a cup of tea, Chrollo can’t help but shiver slightly, his content smile twitching up at the corners ever so slightly. It’s addicting, the way you make him feel so alive, so strangely happy, so light and bubbly and horribly enslaved to his emotions. But while he’s never known himself to a weak man, he thinks he’d be okay with you being his Achilles heel - as long as you smile at him, let him stare as you talk away about your day, let him brush his knuckles against your cheek and whisper that you’re so warm and frail, Chrollo could care less.

He could care less about most things, really, once you step into his life - as long as you don’t leave him, that is. As long as you don’t abandon him, taking you and the feelings you ignite within him with you.

You wouldn’t dare, he’s sure of it.

Possessive

Tying into his desperation for you to stay under his thumb and by his side, Chrollo can’t seem to shake the way anger flares up inside him whenever another man interacts with you. He knows it’s irrational - it’s possible to have interactions with the opposite gender without ulterior motives; he regularly speaks with Machi, Pakunoda and Shizuku without any goals aside from Troupe business.

And yet, he just can’t forget the way he knows some men are - viscous, disgusting, cruel, vile in a way even Chrollo isn’t. He may be a mass murderer, mentally unstable, unhealthily in need of being in control and a pathological thief, but he’s never harassed a woman before. He’s never sneered at one, groped or touched them in a sexual way without their consent, and he’s only ever seduced a woman with the intent of getting information out of her.

But others?

He knows others are probably just as in love with you as he is - you’re beautiful, intelligent, sweet and oh so perfect, truly a naive, painfully unaware little bunny in a world full of wolves. And wolves will pounce, even if the bunny is already in another’s jaws - just the thought of another man attempting to intervene and seduce you themselves is enough to get Chrollo’s jaw clenching ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing a bit and his fingers clasping around his nen book just a bit tighter.

He’s territorial, unwilling to share the way you make him feel with anyone else - only you can bring him the happiness he craves, so therefore only he is allowed to be on the receiving end. He hates the idea that another man could start chatting you up, throwing false compliments and sweet words your way, buttering you up and trying to steal you from right underneath his nose. It makes his fingers itch, the sense of control he harbors over you slipping slightly. It scares him, if he’s being honest – an emotion he hasn’t felt since he was very young, scavenging the streets of Meteor City.

He loves the way you’re able to make him feel, but this particular emotion he very much doesn’t like, nor does he enjoy the way jealousy pricks at his heart when another man glances at you. It leaves his blood boiling, every inch of his body feeling unbelievably hot, his muscles tensing up over and over.

And yet, Chrollo is a man of opportunity – while it may be torture to see you with another man, something excruciating in ways Chrollo has never experienced before, this is a good chance to paint himself in a better light. It’s a good opportunity to sway your perception of him – particularly if the man isn’t wooing you successfully.

Before he’s stolen you away, he’s quick to observe how men approach you, with suave smiles that make you visibly nervous, your high pitched responses to his questions vague and obviously constructed for your escape. It makes some weird sort of protectiveness spring up into him, but he holds himself back. He wills himself to wait just a tad bit longer, to elongate the discomfort you’re feeling because this will only really work if you’re desperate for an escape route. It’s torture, watching, but Chrollo holds on – until he decides you’re fearful enough, his long strides towards you not nearly as quick as he’d like.

Words will slip from his tongue before he can even really think, always placing himself in between you and the man, physically separating you as he quietly but firmly tells the man off, mentioning something about how unchivalrous it is to corner a defenseless woman.

Honestly, as shocked as you’ll be that Chrollo just emerges from the shadows so often, you’ll be incredibly grateful for his presence and intervention - which is exactly what he’s hoping for. He doesn’t like the way his possessiveness eats him up, but there’s something to be said about making sure that he saves you, making sure that you perceive him as your protector and someone to trust.

It’s an insurance thing, more than anything, because there’s nothing that calms Chrollo quite like knowing that you like him, that you’re associating positive emotions with him. It makes pride swell in his chest to think that you perceive him as some sort of guardian angel to you, and while it almost makes him pity you, it just makes his job easier.

It makes it easier to constantly be trailing you (you’ll never catch him, however), and to get you falling for him just as strongly as he’s fallen for you. If you hold him in a position of power, he will be exploiting that power and control - he’ll be subtle when he starts isolating you, the power trip making him giddy because now no one will talk to you. It makes the corners of his mouth twitch up when he sees that notification on his phone, your contact flashing across his screen.

(It’s just your full name, though sometimes he’ll play with the idea of adding a star next to it, or perhaps a diamond or crescent moon - it’s too childish for him, but he’ll often type it out and quickly delete it, only to retype and repeat the process.)

It makes him feel good to know that you’re contacting him, that you reached out to him, meaning you’re thinking of him and not someone else. He’s leaving small hints of his presence in your apartment; a copy of his book that he ‘accidentally’ left there last time you invited him over for dinner, a watch of his (that he stole, of course, but you don’t know that) that you keep neatly on your dresser and glance at every morning, marveling at how pristine and silver it is.

He’ll leave his leftovers in your refrigerator from nice evenings out, internally cooing at the way you finish them off yourself, liking that you’re wanting to finish his food, obviously not disturbed by the fact that his mouth may have touched a bit of it. He’s trying to stake his claim on everything around you, no matter how big or small it may be, just to get you thinking of him.

(Of course, he’s also a fan of staking his claim in ways you’re less knowledgeable about - he’s even spent nights at your apartment, dark eyes appraising your pretty, sleeping face, spending hours simply staring before wandering around your room, picking things up and digging through your drawers. Sometimes, on days when Troupe business has him feeling just a bit stressed, or he has to deal with particularly important but irritating individuals, he’ll even settle himself beside you, sitting in your desk chair and letting his black slacks fall to his knees, palming himself and shakily exhaling. He’ll caress your cheek with one hand, letting a strained, breathless smile slip across his face while his other hand relentlessly tugs and flicks around his cock, eager to see the way you’ll look with white splattered all across your pretty face. He’ll clean it up afterwards, mostly – it can’t hurt to leave a bit on your lips, right? Just so that you’ll taste him in the morning? Just so that he’ll be with you all night, all day tomorrow, so close?)

He’s possessive in the worst way possible, and while it manifests itself as seeming chivalrous and even a bit endearing, it’s anything but. There’s nothing cute about the way he religiously thinks of you, his every free moment spent watching you or speaking to you with the smoothest, most attractive voice he can muster.

There’s nothing sweet about the way his hand lingers on the small of your back, just a tad bit too insistent when he's guiding you through the crowd, making sure you don’t stray far enough away from him to let air flow between your bodies.

There’s nothing flattering about the way he gazes at you as you slowly wake up in his hold, with no memory of how you got there, no memory of where you are, no memory of how you’d changed into a pretty, billowy nightgown, and no memory of him, at least of the tattoo across his forehead or the carnal look in those eyes.

He’s a possessive freak, and once he decides you’re his target, there’s really no chance of escaping. So don’t even try.

Manipulative

He’s good at getting what he wants, and that mixed with his natural charisma leaves pretty much everyone he encounters susceptible to his charms. He’s spent his whole life studying human emotions, interactions and what drives people, and as such he’s got a pretty good understanding of how to exploit others, how to find the cracks in their armor that leave them putty in his hands.

It’s almost fun, in a way, like a puzzle Chrollo becomes extremely skilled at solving flawlessly. But when it comes to you? Well, no matter how adept you are at seeing through people, no matter how levelheaded or careful you are, Chrollo will be getting you wrapped around his little finger, completely bending to his will.

You are certainly no exception to his charms, if only because Chrollo is trying extra hard with you, the genuine drive to get you visibly bashful at his compliments and craving his touch nearly driving him to insanity. And honestly, you probably won’t even realize it – he’s subtle, giving you a small push here or there with little comments about the people around you, or about habits he wants you to break.

When you’re out together shopping around at stores much too expensive for you (courtesy of Chrollo smiling at you and requesting you let him buy you something, because it would mean so much to me, and I know you’ve secretly been yearning for that new dress), he’ll gently chastise you about how you shouldn’t talk to him anymore – don’t you see the way his eyes are on your chest rather than your face?

(The sales clerk who had been helping the two of you was most certainly not ogling your breasts – but even if you bring it up to your companion, he’ll just sigh softly at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and murmuring that he knows men better than you do, that he can see right through them, just trust me, he would’ve given anything to have you alone.)

The comments will be small but plentiful, designed to get you listening to him and coming to think of him as right, as much smarter and more observant than yourself, something that Chrollo will use to his advantage. He does love you, in some twisted, sick way, but Chrollo’s idea of love is distorted, warped and made ugly by the way he treats you.

He knows it perhaps isn’t the classic method of wooing you, but there’s nothing wrong with twisting the situation just to make sure that his desired outcome sees fruition. He doesn’t like lying to you, and would prefer to always be truthful (to an extent, at least), but he understands that it’s what has to happen in order to make his long term plans a reality – in order to get you unconditionally devoted to him, just as he craves.

It’s unhealthy, but Chrollo doesn’t mind; which is why he’ll be putting to use every possible tactic he can think of to get you returning his feelings, all twinged with just a hint of manipulation, just to get the right seeds of thought planted in that pretty little head of yours.

He’s buying bouquets of flowers every week, sent to your address by hand with a note attached in big, loopy cursive detailing how gorgeous you are; haikus he writes describing your eyes, your hair, your figure and your laugh that get your neck and cheeks feeling warm, the flowers always your favorite colors. (The note also generously makes use of the word ‘my’, preceding nearly everything pertaining to you – my darling, my beloved, my angel, my future.)

He's dressing himself to the nines, with his shirts and pants always pressed and pristine, his cologne noticeably but not too intense, just the slightest touch of gel in his hair, all just to make sure he look as attractive and presentable as possible. He knows women find men in casual business wear attractive, and he’ll purposefully choose white dress shirts with the sheerest material he can get away with – just so that when the light hits just right, you’ll see the hard lines of muscle underneath, his abs and pectorals standing out and straining against the fabric. (He’s always making comments about how other men dress when he’s out with you – claiming that there’s wrinkles in their clothing, that wearing such bright, obnoxious colors are unbecoming of a true gentleman, that their watches and jewelry are obviously fakes, even that he’s seen that shirt for sale and it’s a laughable price – some men must not care much for beauty, and if they’re willing to purchase such low-quality items, imagine how poorly they must treat their partner.)

It’s a constant with him, as if he’s actively looking for every opportunity he can to make himself look better compared to those around him – call it a result of his possessiveness, or maybe some weird, unhealthy craving to get your praise and admiration.

Regardless, it’ll eventually have you slowly seeing what he means, finding yourself nodding along and agreeing with his words, even if you’d never have independently formed such a thought. It’s a slow process and will take a while to work, but Chrollo watches with intent, bright eyes and bitten lips, satisfaction oozing out of him because he’s got you right where he wants you, and sweet little you doesn’t even know.

Of course, once he’s stolen you away and permanently attached you to his hip, his manipulative tendencies don’t just magically disappear. Oh no – if anything they grow stronger, because now that you’re truly isolated, it’s just so much easier to mold you into the perfect version of yourself, all needy and dependent on him just as he wishes. It’s easy to get you believing things about those on the outside, using tactics like ignoring you or limiting your freedoms in order to get you caving to his desires, to get you listening and hanging on to his every word like it’s God himself speaking.

And really, Chrollo likes that imagery – that he’s your god and you’re his devoted little follower, worshipping everything he says and making him feel good, important, wanted in a way he’s never experienced before. (Although, in reality, the roles are more flipped – you’re his god, the one thing he comes crawling back to no matter the situation, his unending devotion to you rooted so deeply inside him that not even his soul is unaffected by you. He’s written poetry about the idea, entertaining it through writing, but he’s always quick to rip the pages out and crumple them, not enjoying the uncomfortable sense of truth in the words.)

So while Chrollo’s feelings for you do resemble love in some ways, his methods and expression very much doesn’t – he’s not afraid to lie t you in order to receive the results that he wants, and really, it’s best not to bother fighting him. He will prevail, no matter how to try and keep your head on straight, and it’s just easier for the both of you to not try, to not attempt to make sense of the mixture of lies and truth he feeds you. It’ll save you both time and energy, and Chrollo would really, really appreciate your cooperation – you’re cute when you’re being defiant, but it grows old.

And while Chrollo would never lose interest in you, he’s not above making you believe that he has – if it gets you obeying and letting him rest his hand on your hip (dipping down to firmly grip and squeeze at your thigh too, if he’s lucky), Chrollo will do anything it takes, no matter how depraved or violent.

Anything at all.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Chrollo, while liking to view himself as being above other men, is only human. He’s still a man, one with an intense, disgusting obsession with you, and the moment that your attention is threatened, the human side of Chrollo becomes very apparent.

It’s difficult to look at him and see it, but internally he’s simmering with jealousy every time another man approaches you, to the point where it becomes difficult to focus on anything else except you, except the way that you’re looking at someone else, talking with them and breathing the same air as them. It’s horrible, and even more so than the idea that you’ll be stolen away from another man, Chrollo doesn’t like the fact that this scum thinks he has to right to even be in your presence.

You’re perfect, in Chrollo’s eyes, and he hates the fact that others get to be around you so freely, even when that privilege is something should belong to him and him only. It angers him how other men don’t seem to understand that you’re already taken and claimed, your fate decided the moment Chrollo decides he wants you.

You’re better than everyone else, a breed above, and he's always just a bit worried that you’ll somehow be tainted by talking with other men, like your perfection will become marred when others look at you.

So, Chrollo does what he feels he must – he must interfere, even if getting closer and closer to the scene has his heart pounding, anger swimming through his veins in amounts he’s never, ever experienced. It’s cathartic, in a way, to have such sudden bursts of emotion, but as his dark gaze focuses on you, he decides that what you make him feel, all the warmth and dizziness and disorientation, is much better than the jealousy sitting heavily in his gut.

He’ll, of course, take his time; he’s opportunistic and wont’ simply waste the chance to further build his positive image in your mind, but waiting is absolute torture. He’s digging his nails into his palms with every moment he’s forcing himself to wait, dark gaze unblinking as he stares at the two of you, mentally berating the man and thinking of the thousands of ways he could torture and kill him. And once he thinks it’s finally, finally time, he’s not wasting a moment and approaching the two of you as fast as he can. It's easy to enter into the conversation, picking up something the man has said.

His voice is smooth and sure, a complete contrast from the stranger attempted to pick you up – your head turns sharply when you hear him, relief flashing over your features at a semi familiar face.

He’s maybe a regular at a café or diner you enjoy – you’ve seen him around, chatted lightly a few times, only really knowing his name and a few of the books he’s always reading.

And while Chrollo knows this, he can’t help the way his heart practically soars when he sees how visibly relieved you are for his presence. His fingers twitch with the intention of reaching out and cupping your cheek, but he refrains himself.

The man, however, doesn’t seem nearly as pleased by his sudden arrival – he’s scowling slightly, brows tucked inwards as he growls out sorry, but we’re having a private conversation.

Your relieved and awed expression suddenly returns to a grim and fearful one, and internally Chrollo feels his anger flare. His face is still neutral, however, as he responds carefully and calmly that he’s making you obviously uncomfortable, and it’s the chivalrous thing to do when I see a woman being harassed. The man splutters slightly, shocked at Chrollo’s forwardness.

He tries to argue back, claiming you were answering his questions, being polite, so evidently you must have wanted him, right?

You’re unimpressed, shrinking back further away from the man and instead subtly getting closer to Chrollo, something he notes with a distinct sense of pleasure. Chrollo doesn’t let up, however, continuing to inform the man that you don’t want to be there, that you aren’t really interested when he offers to show you his apartment that he swears is the best thing you’ll ever see.

You’re grateful, and as weak and lame as it makes you feel to have Chrollo fighting this particular battle for you, you’re glad he showed up. He always seems to show up, really, just when you need him – it’s almost magic, you think, how he seems to know when you need help. The image of him as your savior makes your cheeks feel warm, the girlish thought embarrassing but oddly accurate.

Eventually the man leaves, huffing and muttering under his breath about how you weren’t even all that pretty anyways, and Chrollo feels his eye twitch, a small flick of the wrist inserting just a bit of nen into his shoulder.

Not enough for the man to feel it, but just enough so that he can keep track of his whereabouts. You’re immediately thanking him profusely, embarrassed about how inept you’d seemed, some small part of you hoping you didn’t look as pathetic as you felt.

But he doesn’t seem to mind – if anything, he’s silent, allowing your rambling to continue on, those dark eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze. It’s intense, but as your voice dies off after the fifth ‘thank you’, he only softly smiles.

Of course, his voice is low and nearly demure, making a shiver roll down your spine, it’s no trouble at all. I’d help you out anytime you need me.

He can tell you’re flustered, and while he wants nothing more than to revel in the sight of you looking bashful, twiddling with your thumbs and stumbling over your words, he knows he has to leave. He needs to leave, really, so that he can check over his book of nen, flipping to the page where that the location of that piece of scum that had bothered you was.

He bids you farewell with a twinkle in his eye, looking over his shoulder as he turns and walks away. You look so pretty, standing there and staring at him, trying to hide the way your mouth gapes open, and Chrollo bites his lip ever so slightly, closing his eyes and reveling in the way his chest feels all warm and airy from just the sight of you. Soon he’s turning off the street where it had all happened, immediately stepping into an alleyway and flipping open the book.

The nen signature leads him to a dingy apartment – surely not the beauty he’d been boasting to you about – and Chrollo nearly snorts as he sees the man throwing back his head, drowning the beer bottle in hand. No one else is in the apartment, he finds as he slips through the front door, which is ideal. He’s quick to conjure up his giant nen fish, a smile slowly spreading across his lips as the man suddenly freezes, unable to move as a fish moves to nibble at a toe, teeth biting and crunching through bone.

It doesn’t take long – maybe ten minutes or so, but Chrollo enjoys every moment of watching the man slowly get eaten alive, those dark eyes wide and excited. It’s euphoric, really, and as he remembers the way the man had nearly had the audacity to touch you, to touch what was Chrollo’s, he can’t stop himself from chuckling slightly.

It’s only after the fact, once all is said and done, that he notices his hands are shaking, his cheeks a bit sore from smiling for such a long period of time. It’s only then that he hears how his heartbeat is loud in his ears, blood pounding as the excitement and satisfaction of seeing the sofa now empty, not a spec of blood ruining the upholstery.

He wishes he could have killed him by his own hand, perhaps stabbed him a few times, burned him alive, maybe even drowned him – but this is better, because now when you watch the news you won’t see some horrible, mangled body.

And once he’s stolen you away, it’s better if you don’t see the gruesome ways that he’s killed – how will you continue to look at him with such adoration and love in your eyes if you do? And Chrollo couldn’t stand to not have you gaze at him with anything short of fondness, admiration, desperation.

He closes the man’s apartment door, making sure to lock it, before tapping into the nen wedge lodged into your own shoulder – seems you’re walking home now. Perhaps you’d like some company from the shadows.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Chrollo is extremely methodical with his approach towards seducing you.

He’s careful to present himself as a gentleman, a classically chivalrous man with his dark features and smooth voice. He’s never tried to genuinely make someone develop feelings for him before – it’s only ever been for a job or to place someone into the palm of his hand, but with you it’s different.

He’s actively trying everything he can think of to make you like him, pouring through romance novels to find common themes, trying all manner of approaches and tactics so that you’ll only associate him with happiness and nerves.

And frankly, Chrollo will absolutely get you falling for him. By the time that he feels he’s ready to steal you away, you’ve probably developed a massive crush on him, your feelings strong and difficult to ignore. Really, you can’t be blamed – he’s a master manipulator, and while his romantic experience is dismal, it’s not so hard to find out your favorite flower and leave a bouquet at your door. It’s not so difficult to send expensive perfumes or jewelry to you, attached with a note detailing what it is about the piece that makes him think of you.

You’ll nearly be in love, something that he’s worked extremely hard to cultivate. It hasn’t been easy, holding off all this time. There’s been more opportunities than he can count where he could’ve so easily swept you into his arms and took off into the night, never to have you seen again by anyone but himself.

He’s had to physically restrain himself more often than he’d care to admit from reaching out and grabbing you, tucking you so tightly against his chest that you can’t breath as he boards the airship, the Troupe standing guard outside your new bedroom to make sure you don’t get any funny ideas. You’re laughably weak compared to him, and while it sometimes causes Chrollo to worry for your safety, it’s ultimately an asset to him.

Because now that you’re completely under the impression that Chrollo is the perfect man for you, it’s all so much easier to relocate you without a fuss. It all happens much faster than Chrollo had expected, however – all too soon you’re seeing blurry images on the television news one night, the cereal you’d been eating forgotten as you take in the familiar earrings, the dark eyes, the forehead tattoo he’s always written off as a family tattoo.

You’re in shock, eyes wide as you listen to the anchor list off the multitudes of crimes the Troupe has been accused of, and for a moment you refuse to believe it’s true. That’s not Chrollo – not your Chrollo, the man who picks you up at 7:00 sharp for the dinner date he’s reserved at the fanciest restaurant in town.

That’s not your Chrollo, the man who opens doors for you and pulls out your chair, almost placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through large crowds. He could never murder someone – could never be the cause of the some hundreds of lost lives the TV claims he’s responsible for.

But then you hear a sigh, that familiar voice murmuring out that it’s really all just so unfortunate, I was hoping to gain your favor a bit more. Alas, the façade is up, I’ll make sure to pack that sweatshirt you love so much. Please, love, don’t struggle too much. There’s a pinprick in your neck, those dark eyes the last thing you see before blackness surrounds you. Chrollo can only mournfully look down at you, having caught your unconscious body in his arms.

It’s a good opportunity to run his fingers over your lips, to trace the shape of your nose, to press a surprisingly sweet kiss to your forehead. It was inevitable, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me eventually. We’re made for one another, after all.

Once you’re trapped with him, a few things will become very apparent to you very quickly. Firstly, Chrollo is a criminal – the dashing man you thought you knew is not real, his true personality slipping out almost immediately. He’s no longer attempting to hide the reality of his work, discussing new jobs and elimination plans over the phone in the same room as you, not mincing words when he tells the mystery man to make it messy, the more blood the better.

Second, he’s a very important man. He’s constantly being phone called, stepping out for this or that meeting, making decisions you don’t even understand. The very few people he’s ever let you meet almost seem to revere him, unconditionally bowing to his word and only addressing him as Boss.

Third, he’s much stronger than you’d realized, the odd pressure he seems to radiate growing and ebbing at various points in the day. You’d seen the way he’s merely flicked his wrist and a man that had seen the handcuffs initially around you was suddenly headless, sliced clean off without so much as a sound.

Lastly, Chrollo Lucilfer is desperate. Despite being kidnapped, forced to jump from hotel room to hotel room firmly attached at his hip, there’s never been a lull in the way that he demands your attention. There’s never been a free moment where he’s not looking at you, that same small smile quirking on his lips that used to fluster you but now only makes your gut twist. He’s always asking you questions – some are easy, surface level and don’t require effort on your part. He’s asking what your favorite color is, what your favorite breakfast foods are, if you prefer to wake up early or sleep in.

(He already know the answers, but he likes hearing you say it.)

Some are more difficult, making you consider your words before you speak them. He’s asking you whether you’ve ever dreamed of what your wedding venue will look like (he of course pushes for details, mentally noting everything and imagining it alongside you), what you would name a pet cat (either solid black or solid white fur, you pick), asking you to jot down a few of your favorite songs so that he can compile a playlist for you, as you have limited electronic access (the playlist is really for him, so that when he’s away on missions he can still feel like he’s with you, but that’s besides the point).

And then there’s the ‘why’ questions – these are the hardest, his eyes boring into you as he asks you why you claim to love your friends, why you’re fighting him so hard, why you think life itself even exists. They make you think, and while you don’t want to answer, Chrollo will keep pushing and pushing and pushing, using your words against you and slowly taking away any privileges you’ve managed to earn.

It’s not worth the fight that ensues if you ignore any of his questions, so you’ll answer as succinctly as possible, choosing your words carefully and watching for his reactions. Mostly, he just likes to hear your voice – knowing there’s no one else in the room, so you’re talking to him and only him, thinking of ways to respond to what he asked you.

He likes to know your opinion on things, each and every word you utter only furthering his fascination with you, contradictions in your thoughts popping up right and left. Mostly, as a captor, Chrollo is really just omnipresent. He’s always there, dark eyes trained on you and listening to every little thing you say, watching every little thing you do, commenting on what feels like every thought you have.

It’s exhausting, the way he’s constantly hovering, the way he’s constantly on the look out for any kind of interaction with him, and at first you’ll find yourself growing tired, afraid, frantic to be alone.

You’ll eventually explode, yelling at him and telling him to leave you alone, to disappear, to just get away from me, you monster! He’s silent as your words sink in, his face carefully neutral, before he laughs softly, shaking his head a bit.

If that’s what you wish, he’ll ominously tell you, walking out the hotel room door and locking it behind him. It’s wonderful, the first few hours without him – finally some time to yourself, to really cry or scream or just ponder your new life.

But after a day or two passes, thing start changing – you don’t like Chrollo, you promise, but it’s sort of lonely without him. The hotel room is big but empty, his missing presence louder than the silence. You’ll slowly find yourself starting to miss him, wishing he’d come back and continue asking those stupid questions of his, to brush his fingers against your cheeks and thighs, to gaze at you with that deranged but enamored look in his eye.

By day five, you’re frantic for him to come back, taking to sitting in the corner and staring at the door, persuading yourself that he’ll have to return sometime, that eventually he’ll come back to you, that he won’t just leave you alone to die.

And when he does, ten days after leaving you fully alone (minus the cameras placed in the room), he’s shocked to feel the way you rush in for a hug as the door swings open. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest, and Chrollo can’t help but blink widely down at you, lips parted but no sounds coming out. He knew the loneliness was getting to you, but you’d never initiated physical contact like this before. Was it an act of desperation, or was it because you were missing him?

Did you ache for human contact, or did you ache for his contact?

He’s not sure, but he finds himself humming and returning the gesture, letting a hand pet your hair as he asks you if you missed him, if you’d gotten lonely, if you’d like to lay down for a bit with him. You’re not as clingy after you pull away from the hug, but Chrollo doesn’t care – you lay with him, a good two feet of space between your bodies, but it’s progress.

You’re more open after that, not flinching away and snapping at him when he reaches out to touch you. Instead, you’re almost leaning into his touch, enjoying it – which leads to another key aspect of being Chrollo’s captive; the touching.

He’s not invasive with it in the beginning, but as time passes you’ll notice the way his hand is always lingering at your waist, his fingers drumming against your skin. You’ll realize he’s always shuffling closer to your body, dissatisfied with the space between you. You’ll get used to the way he asks for a kiss before you both fall into slumber, his arms snaking around your middle and pulling you back against his chest as he sighs into your ear.

The rational side of you is enraged, disgusted by his attempts at romantic and intimate touches, but a part of you that grows larger with every passing day stops caring, slowly accepting that Chrollo is all you have left now, and that you should take advantage of every ounce of affection he’s willing to show you. It may not be real (though the obsession that gleams in his eyes certainly is, as is the blood that sometimes stains his pale chest when he returns home from a few days away), but it’s something.

It’s enough that you can almost overlook the way he keeps you trapped in the hotel rooms, stuck by his side, with only your books and himself to entertain you. You can almost forget the way he’s freely admitted to killing for you, nonchalantly threating family members if you try to escape, telling you he’ll hear about anything and everything you do because nothing can hide from him.

Eventually, you’ll stop caring – your life is easier now, all the stress and worries of independence gone, and Chrollo couldn’t be more pleased that you’re settling down, or mellowing, as he likes to say. You’re closer to realizing your true purpose with him – to continue to give him that warmth he craves, to continue to let him kiss and hold you, to let him steal every ounce of your attention and time.

He’s a thief after all, and now that you’re his, he’s entitled to take whatever he wants.

PUNISHMENTS:

While Chrollo is, overall, a somewhat lenient captor, he does have a few strict guidelines.

Firstly, you are to never ignore him. To ignore him would mean a rejection of his feelings for you, and while Chrollo is normally a cool, level-headed man, the second you even encroach on any actions that could be considered a rejection of a his love, of him, he’s clenching his jaw and doing his best to not lash out, keeping his temper and check and calculating ways to make you recognize the consequences of your actions.

Secondly, do not try to escape. He’s lucid enough to understand that once you’ve first been kidnapped, you’re likely to try everything in your power to escape. It doesn’t matter how deeply your feelings for him have formed – it’s only human nature to not enjoy being trapped, which is why he’ll have to train you, to make sure that you correctly acclimate to your new life with him, to your new future.

And lastly, you must never attempt to hurt him. Of course, you could never do any real damage, but the sentiment will hurt him more than he’d care to admit – by reaching out and wishing him harm, you are, once again, rejecting him. You’re displaying a desire to wound him, and he absolutely cannot have you thinking that you’re in any position of power or control in your relationship with him.

(You are, of course, because Chrollo’s dependence on you is really quite pathetic and sad, but you won’t be aware of the depth of his feelings for you until very, very late into your time with him. He’s good at hiding this, if only because letting you see him vulnerable would mean letting you have a sliver of control over him, a concept that terrifies him to his very core.)

Those three things are really the only ways to set Chrollo off – he’s generally pretty adaptable, able to read you like a clock and understanding what you’re thinking merely by watching your facial expressions, and because of this he won’t often punish you. He doesn’t like the idea of disciplining you, instead preferring to simply manipulate you into thinking and feeling the way he wants you to. But, if any of the three rules are breached, Chrollo finds himself resorting to more extreme measures, doing what he feels is necessary to garner the results he’s looking for.

Even so, he won’t ever rely upon physical means to punish you – he doesn’t like the idea of you being injured or hurt, and it would be a hassle to mend the damage hurting you would cause.

So, Chrollo defaults to more manipulative measures, punishments he knows will leave you crying and terrified, inflicting more psychological rather than physical damage. It’s the only way he can get what he wants, after all, and Chrollo has always been determined to get his way – even at the expense of you, his most prized possession.

When you’re staring at him with such hard, pained eyes, it almost makes him feel bad for a moment. Almost, if only because your words are replaying in his head, the tone and wavering in your voice making pause for a brief moment.

You’d said you hated him, that he was a monster, that you were unhappy being with him. It was all things Chrollo had already known, of course, but it certainly didn’t feel good to hear them come from you, nonetheless.

He just sighs, looking at you with that same belittled, heavy gaze, telling you to calm down, darling, don’t say things you don’t mean.

This just angers you more, it seems, because soon you’re nearly screaming, throwing a pillow or two at him as you yell that you’re not lying, you sick fuck! I hate you, I will never love you, I will never need you! Please, you have to let me go, I can’t stand being with you any longer!

What you’re saying isn’t even particularly harsh – he’s heard much, much worse from his victims over the years, searing words insulting his intelligence, his appearance, his morals, his past, everything and anything. And yet, there’s something about hearing the words coming from you that makes him flounder a bit, a sinking feeling in his gut making him stand up straight, appraising your shaking, heaving form across the room. It’s silent for a few long moments, before he simply adjust his jacket, pulling the lapels slightly and turning his back to you. Very well then, if that’s how you feel. As you wish, my dear.

And with that, he’s slipping out the hotel door, disappearing to who knows where. You’re left trembling in anger, your breathing unsteady, but before you can think you’re rushing to the door, wiggling the handle violently and sucking in a sharp breath when you feel that it’s unlocked, practically begging you to throw it open and leave this godforsaken hotel room.

As you rush away, sprinting down staircases and down never-ending hallways, you’ll distantly know that this is probably a trap. Chrollo wouldn’t just let you go, you’re sure, especially with such suspicious time. But you can’t stop yourself from taking advantage of the opportunity, deciding that even if it is a trap, the few brief moments of freedom that you’ll have will be enough to warrant it all.

And yet, as you push through the front doors and take a look around the busy, bustling street you’ve stumbled upon, you nearly sob. You have no idea where you are, the landmarks totally unfamiliar, but you’re free, feeling the sunlight on your skin without Chrollo’s presence pressed into your side, his cold fingers pushing into your hip or shoulder. You don’t have any money and have no idea where to go, but your legs are moving faster than you can think, wandering through the city along back roads and side streets.

Hours quickly pass by, exhaustion beginning to settle into your bones as the sun dips back behind the horizon, leaving the city in shadows and quiet aside from the hum of cars and the bustle of city goers. It’s only once you’re stumbling through an alley that you hear it – him, to be specific.

At least, you’re pretty sure it’s a man – the footsteps are obviously trying to be quiet, but they’re not doing a good enough job to go unnoticed by you. He’s breathing loudly, too, and as you glance over your shoulder, eyes wide and scared, you don’t see anyone.

You’re sure there’s someone there, that they’ve followed you down this alleyway, and as you press your back against the slightly wet brick wall of the building behind you, you feel your heart practically about to beat out of your chest.

Who was there?

It’s silent for a moment, before a short laugh is barked out, the man emerging from behind a dumpster. Shadow falls over his face, making it impossible to see his face, but you do see his size. He’s a monster of a man, bulky shoulders easily above your head, muscles bulging along his arms and under his pants. A wild bed of hair sits atop his head, and you feel yourself freeze, fear eating away at your heart.

You can’t move as the man comes closer, face still hidden in the darkness, and it’s only when he comes down to punch at your stomach do you realize what’s about to happen, panic engulfing your senses as his fist comes closer and closer and closer – It sucks the air right out of your lungs, making you wheeze and gasp for breath, knees slamming into the concrete below you as you gasp and struggle to regain your breath.

The man laughs, a timber, horrible sound, but stops abruptly at the distant sound of sirens. He curses under his breath, and you feel his eyes on you, daring to look up at him in between your fits of coughing.

You’re lucky, bitch, he starts, voice gravelly as he begins backing up. Next time I’ll get you, the cops won’t be coming and I’ll show you why weak little things like you shouldn’t be in alleyways late at night – makes it hard for me to resist ya, and I think you’d look even better without that ugly ass nightgown you’ve got on.

And with that, he’s sprinting down the alley, running away even as the sirens get further and further away. You’re left to lay on the cold, wet ground, having regained your breath but letting tears stream down your face. You don’t want to admit it, but you’d been hoping that Chrollo would magically appear, just like he always does. You’d hoped that he would’ve stopped the stranger’s punch, that he would’ve saved you just like he used to.

The thought of Chrollo makes you flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was right. Maybe he’s right that you can’t take care of yourself, that you’re too weak for this world, that you’re better off with a monster like him (quoted directly from him, with that signature smirk of his) rather than the everyday men.

You curl up, knees to your chest for a while, before your up again, wandering and trying to retrace your steps back to the hotel you’d run out of only hours ago. Eventually you’ll make it back, and as you wait in the lobby, rubbing at your now dirty and bruised body, your eyes will flick across every person entering and exiting, before you begrudgingly make your way to the elevator, riding up tot eh floor you knew your room was on.

It takes everything in you to knock on the door – his door, but eventually you do. And when he opens it, a small hello trickling past his lips, you can’t help but let out an ugly, gaspy sob, rushing forward and wrapping your arms around him. It feels horrible, disgusting, so very good to feel how he returns the hug, gently patting your back and smoothing down your hair, a soft hello my dear making your shoulders shake.

He won’t ask too many questions, letting you inside and nearly forcing you into the shower, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Even when he’s got you wearing a fresh set of soft, lounging clothing (with a neckline just a bit too low to cover your collarbone, something his eyes are often drawn to), you can’t find it in yourself to ask. He’s talking to you, after all, asking you if you enjoyed your time in the real world, if it was as grand as you’d hoped.

His eyes are twinkling, and although the apology you offer up isn’t as loud or insistent as he’d hoped for, it still makes him smile, his throat bobbing as he loudly swallows.

The conversation is over for the evening, and it’s only after you fall asleep (in his bed, he notes with a somewhat shy smile and a shaky exhale) that he pulls out his phone, pressing the contact name and smiling at the dial tone.

Thank you, Uvogin, he starts, letting a hand run very lightly over your leg under the sheets. This favor won’t be forgotten.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

The thing that makes Chrollo a dangerous yandere is less his violent tendencies, and more of the way you nearly won’t recognize yourself after being with him for long enough.

Of course, he loves you – a sick, messy, disgusting love that he quickly grows addicted to. He finds you irresistible, fascinating and growing drunk off the way your body fits with him, but he’s still a criminal. He’s still a mass murderer, singlehandedly responsible for the deaths of more than he can count, and he will not be suddenly listening to commonplace morals once his feelings for you form.

There’s no such thing as bad to him – he views you as his woman, his partner and his most precious, cherished possession, and as a result he has absolutely no qualms about doing what he wants to you. He’s manipulative, lying to you just as often as he tells the truth, making you feel as if you’re going crazy because you have no idea what’s real and what’s fake.

He’s possessive, slowly isolating you and barring you from any contact at all with anyone he deems a threat to your future with him, or anyone at all, really. He doesn’t want you to grow feelings for another man, and has no issues with cutting off your contact with everyone in your life that you hold dear. He’s always got that same look on his face; a small, prideful smile, his dark eyes so impossibly wide and sparkling as he stares at you, every ounce of his attention focused on you and only you.

He’s terrifying, and while you’ll more than likely develop feelings for him before you know of his true self, you’ll begrudgingly find those feelings doesn’t entirely dissolve even once you know that he’s a crook and a perverted, horrible man who’s stolen you away. You’ll probably still find him charming, still thinking his hair looks soft enough to touch, still finding his hands (littered with a fair share of veins) drool worthy, even when you realize how many have likely died because of them.

You’ll hate yourself for it, but you will eventually find yourself growing just as dependent on Chrollo as he is on you – and really, that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to need him, to yearn for him and crave him, if only because he feels all that for you and more, and he needs to make sure he has you under his thumb, so that your pretty smile and lovely voice and heavenly body are never not by side.

Things would grow ugly if you were to ever be snatched away from him, corpses piling up and his own sanity slipping away until he can hold you in his arms once more, pressing his lips messily, desperately against yours, hearing you say his name with that lilt you always do.

Chrollo needs you, and it’s best if you just give in – you may essentially be ending your own life, but you’re giving meaning to his and saving so many others. So, so many others.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_chrollo lucilfer

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sxcret-garden · 6 months ago

Text

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding.

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp.

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better.

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you.

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him.

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?"

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again.

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you.

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..."

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders,

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core.

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now."

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him.

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around.

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

#ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez x fem reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez series #ateez drabbles #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #smut

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ladytauria · 2 months ago

Note

*★,°*:.☆(￣▽￣)/$:*.°★* 。 When their partner comes from a fight, all injured, with a smile because they won. But they are not happy, because what the actual heck? - sladejay AWOOOO ♡

heheheh thank u so much for the prompt love <3 i had a good time writing it... thank u for all ur help with it, too~

Title: taking a bird in hand Rating: Explicit Pairing: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson Word Count: 8.7k

There are consequences to self-destruction.

>> AO3 <<

Jason's body throbs.

His shoulder aches from where he had to pop it back into place, and he can't put any weight on his left leg without his knee twinging in pain. Blood and sweat are sticky on his skin; his cuts sting where sweat drips into them.

All of the pain, all of the discomfort, is secondary to the way his blood sings.

His landing on the fire escape lacks its usual grace; the metal clatters beneath him, the railing shaking when he reaches out to stabilize himself. When his better leg is no longer wobbling under him, he disables the traps on the window and slips into the brownstone he shares with Slade.

Only after the shades are drawn and the traps have been reset does Jason fumble for the latches of his helmet. He pulls it off with a low, mechanical hiss. Cool air washes over his face, and he tips his head back to enjoy it, running a hand through his hair.

The living room light is on. Jason can see the back of Slade's head—can hear the rhythmic sound of metal scraping against stone. His mouth twitches as he straightens.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls, waltzing toward the couch with a feral, predatory grin. “Did you miss me?”

Not for the first time, Jason is struck by how… normal Slade looks, when he's not clad in the Ikon suit. Sitting on their shared couch, wearing nothing but a Henley and loose sweats, he looks almost… domestic, save for the knife and whetstone in his hands. There are more knives laid out on the coffee table. Jason spots a few of his spares among them—some of his favorite cooking knives, too, alongside a separate whetstone.

He ignores the way that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

Instead, he lets himself drink in the sight of Slade. The top buttons of the Henley are undone, exposing his collarbone and a generous smattering of gray chest hair. Braced against the back of the couch, Jason has a great view down the front of it, and he takes shameless advantage of it.

Slade hums, drawing the blade of the knife over the stone before raising it up to examine it. Light glints off of the blade. “How was patrol?” he asks, the subtlest curl of warmth in his words. He sheaths the knife and twists to look up at him. “Did you—” He cuts himself off, brows knitting. “What the hell happened to you?”

Jason knows him well enough to know the bite in his voice is concern, not anger. “Oh, y'know. Couple'a assholes got in some lucky hits.” Jason shrugs. Nothing he couldn't handle. He trails his fingers over Slade's nape. “I could use a shower. Wanna join me?”

He’s rewarded with a shiver—but then Slade shakes his head, pulling away from Jason’s hand. “Kid, you need medical attention. Not sex.”

“Or…” Jason leans down so his lips are brushing Slade's ear, voice dipping into something low and suggestive. “We could do both.” It wouldn't hurt to take care of his injuries first, honestly—his knee could use a wrap, and the way the cut on his thigh throbs… he probably needs stitches. Then… maybe he can talk Slade into picking him up, fucking him against the shower wall. No risk of popping his stitches that way.

Jason pouts when Slade's only reply is a snort.

Slade sets the knife and whetstone aside before he stands and rounds the couch. Despite the irritation on his face, his grip on Jason’s arm is nothing but gentle as he steers him toward the bathroom.

The pace is too quick at first—Jason stumbles, nearly tripping over his own two feet. Slade immediately shifts, wrapping his arm around Jason’s waist instead.

“The bats just let you walk off like this?” Now the bite in his voice is definitely anger.

Jason’s brow furrows. “What bats?” There better not have been any bats in his territory tonight.

Slade stills. “The ones you called for backup.” His voice drops to something low. Dangerous. A lesser man would be looking for an exit.

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t need back-up.”

Not for a group of small-time thugs guarding a weapons shipment. Jason will begrudgingly admit that they were more skilled than he expected. They landed several good blows—but Jason gave as good as he got.

Better than he got, even, because in the end, he was the only one able to actually walk out of there. Sure, he feels like one big bruise, but he’s had worse. It only hurts to breathe a little.

Slade grunts, disbelieving.

Jason’s hackles raise. “I didn’t. I had it handled,” he bites. He goes to shrug Slade’s arm off, but he doesn’t get the chance before Slade manhandles him to the bathroom.

The easy way Slade moves him never fails to get him hot. Even now, when Slade is being obnoxiously careful with him, he can feel his pulse quicken, his stomach tighten.

As soon as Jason is perched on the closed toilet seat, Slade digs their first aid kit out from under the sink. It’s one of several spread throughout the brownstone, though this one is the most substantial. It takes up more than half the sink counter when Slade opens it.

“Armor off,” Slade orders gruffly.

“I can do this myself,” Jason grunts. He rises to his feet to do just that, but Slade stops him with a hand on his chest.

“You can.” The acknowledgement mollifies Jason… but only slightly. “Let me help anyway.”

Jason debates being difficult and refusing. However… he does want that shower. Preferably as soon as possible. He’s not above acting counter to his own interests just to be petty, but… This time, he decides it’s not worth it.

His shoulder muscles protest as he shrugs out of his jacket, but the pain is easy enough to ignore. He disables the traps on his armor with fingers far less graceful than usual, and then fumbles with the latches until finally, he gets it off. Jason lets both fall to the floor with a thud.

One of them will pick them up later.

He undoes his belt and pops the button on his tac pants, only to still as Slade kneels between his legs. His breath hitches; thighs spreading on reflex. His leg twinges.

Jason isn’t fast enough to hide his wince. Not from Slade.

Slade’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Injury report?”

Jason rolls his shoulders carefully in response. “Dislocated my left shoulder. Popped it back in before I left. Twisted my knee. Got a cut that needs stitches… Normal bruises and scrapes.” He shrugs. “Nothin’ serious. I told you.”

Now that the adrenaline is starting to fade from his system, his side hurts a lot more than it did before. Breathing is a hell of a lot less comfortable. His left side always gives him trouble—he probably just aggravated the muscles or something.

Nothin’ a hot shower and a little endorphin rush can’t fix.

Although the way Slade is acting, he thinks the only action he’ll be seeing tonight is with his hand, and maybe a toy. Disappointing, but Jason will manage.

“Where’s the cut?” Slade asks, scanning Jason’s body.

“Outer thigh.” Jason taps his right leg.

Slade grunts. He goes for Jason’s boots first, deft fingers untying Jason’s laces and then dropping them neatly next to his armor. Jason rises as Slade tugs his tac pants down. The blood from his cut has started to dry; the fabric clinging to his skin and tugging at the edges of his injury. Worse, though, is the way Jason’s torso muscles protest. He grits his teeth against the pain, but he’s breathing a little more heavily when he settles again.

He’d be a fool to think that Slade didn’t notice.

The old man doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he rises again, taking out a cloth and wetting it. His expression is tight; the blue of his eye stormy. Still, when he sweeps the cloth over Jason’s skin, he’s nothing but gentle.

There’s more blood than Jason thought. It turns the white cloth pink. Slade balls it up when he’s done and throws it into the sink. It smacks against the first aid kit, rattling it loudly enough Jason almost flinches. Normally, this is the part where Slade pets him like he's a spooked horse (and Jason despises the way it works, the way he instantly feels settled under Slade's touch). This time, though… Slade doesn't. He grips Jason's leg—still careful not to hurt him—and manipulates it to get a better look at the cut.

It leaves Jason feeling… disquieted.

He keeps his mouth shut.

The cut is maybe four inches long, though not very wide or deep, and definitely in need of stitches.

Jason looks away when Slade reaches for the local anesthetic. It’s not something he would normally allow himself, but—angry at him or not, he trusts Slade.

The pain of the needle is brief, and followed by a numbing sensation that spreads down his thigh. Slade reaches for the suturing kit. Jason leans back and closes his eyes. The feeling is more acute this way, even dulled as it is, but it’s better than watching the needle drive in and out of his skin.

He doesn’t open his eyes again until he hears the soft snip of the thread being cut. Slade’s stitching is neat and precise. He doubts it will leave much of a scar—if any at all.

Slade wraps a bandage around Jason’s thigh to protect the cut, and then he sits back on his haunches, lifting Jason’s leg carefully to examine his knee. The flesh is swollen and tender, hurting no matter how gently Slade touches him. He hums, and then gets out a wrap, binding Jason’s knee tightly.

“Satisfied?” Jason asks. His voice is hoarser than he expected. He clears his throat.

“No. Shirt off. I don’t like the way your breathing sounds.”

Jason huffs. There’s nothing wrong with his breathing. “I’m fine,” he says. “I just need a shower.”

Slade’s eye narrows. “Humor me.”

Jason huffs again, but this time he listens.

It’s not like he won’t have to strip anyway, he supposes. He tugs his undershirt off—or, he starts to. His side screams when he goes to raise it over his head, causing him to drop the shirt with a low, pained groan. Slade is there immediately, smoothing a hand down Jason’s back. Jason leans into the comfort without thinking.

Slade waits until the pain has faded, Jason's muscles loosening, before gripping his shirt and pulling it up. He guides the arm on Jason's uninjured side through the hole and lifts the shirt over his head and down the injured arm so Jason doesn't have to raise it. Then, he sits back on his heels.

The set of his mouth grows tighter.

Jason follows his gaze, looking down at his side. It’s bruised a splotchy purple, and Jason grimaces.

Okay, so maybe Slade had cause to be worried.

Slade mutters an apology before his fingers start probing at Jason’s side, pushing down on each rib. At first, the pain is… manageable, but then—

Jason hisses, full body cringing away from Slade’s touch.

Fuck.

Jason is acutely familiar with the pain of a cracked rib. God fucking dammit. He’s going to be laid up for weeks. Three, at least.

“We’ll do x-rays in a bit.” Slade stands again. “Stay here.” He fills one of the small paper cups they keep in the bathroom and hands it to Jason alongside two capsules of Tylenol.

Jason downs them without complaint.

“Still think you didn’t need back-up?” Slade asks him, his voice low.

Jason scoffs. “I walked out of there, didn’t I?”

Slade clenches his jaw. His eye grows stormy. “If one of them was even slightly luckier, you wouldn’t have.”

“They weren’t.” It’s Jason’s turn to stand, then. His bad knee is on the same side as his potentially-cracked rib, so as long as he keeps his weight on his right side, it’s not so bad. Slade’s hands settle on his waist, steadying him. Even now, in the face of Slade’s anger, there’s still a part of Jason that relishes in the way they make him feel small.

“They could have been,” Slade snaps, holding Jason just a little bit tighter. Jason half-expects him to shake him.

“But they weren’t,” Jason stresses. His grip on Slade tightens a little. God. He’s so tired all of the sudden. He doesn’t want to argue—he wants to shower. Sleep. He doesn’t want to have to deal with Slade’s displeasure. His disappointment. “I—Can we not, right now?”

Slade studies him.

Jason doesn’t know what he sees, but whatever it is... he nods. “Yeah, kid. We can talk about it later.”

Jason expects him to leave, but he doesn’t. He stays right where he is… and Jason is grateful for it as he slumps. He lets his head fall forward to rest on Slade’s shoulder, where he breathes in the scent of him. Slade holds him up, holds him steady, until Jason is ready to pull away.

>> continue reading on AO3 <<

#sladejay #jayde #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #asks and answers #prompt fills #paprikadotmp4 #dcu

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 5 months ago

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Intro post! + links to everything :)

Hi, I'm DK and this blog is mostly full of me talking about the Six of Crows and the rest of the Grishaverse! (and I'm also on AO3 as she_posts_nerdy_stuff)

It's occurred to me recently that I never did an intro post and also I'm just generally feeling that things over here are super disorganised so I've gone through all of my posts since 2022 (this was not a quick task you guys omg) and done my best to organise everything into tags so that you can access them all from here! All the links to the tags, or sometimes individual posts, are below the cut, and the categories are AO3, Grishaverse analysis, Grishaverse edits, Grishasverse knitting projects, and Grishaverse incorrect quotes.

Please note: this is a lot of stuff to wade through and I am sure to have missed the odd thing, but hopefully this is pretty mch everything! If you're looking for something that I've said should be here and can't find it, let me know and I'll do my best to track it down :)

Thank you all so much, love to you all <3

AO3 LINKS (I'm starting with the easier links, I don't have to make tags for these ones)

Original works

As I'm writing this I have four fics up on AO3, two of which are works in progress, and I'll update this post whenever that changes (ie when I finish them or when I start a new one)

UPDATE: Five fics now! Links are below <3

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

225k words, 146 chapters, Kanej focused with Wesper featured and Helnik kinda mentioned, post-canon, no archive warnings, completed

Summary:

Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Don't Go Blindly Into The Dark

100k + words, 60+ chapters, Wesper focused with Kanej featured and Helnik mentioned, pre-canon, canon divergence, no archive warnings, work in progress

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Our Gods Have Abandoned Us

19k + words, 11 chapters, Helnik and Kanej with Wesper kinda featured, so much angst, post-canon, canon-divergence (Van Eck wins AU), major character death, work in progress

This one properly started with this post

Summary:

"Of course they do, Jes," Kaz flexed his fingers in his gloves, "That's what losing a war means. And when that war comes, Kerch can't afford for Shu Han to win it. They'll back Fjerda against Ravka now so that when Shu Han turn against them Fjerda will back them in return. Ravka's navy will fall to Kerch's, most of Ravka's territory will go to Fjerda and if it has any money left then I expect plenty of it will be given to Kerch as part of the deal. The Shu will move against Fjerda to take back the territories they were trying to win from Ravka, and Fjerda will pay them little mind until they declare war on Kerch. Novyi Zem will back Shu Han, because they still think their trade ambassador was killed by the Kerch in what was actually Shu Han's last attempt to start a war over here, Fjerda will back Kerch, refugees will flee to the Wandering Isle and their economy won't be able to withstand it, and meanwhile I will remain exactly where I am and get drunk toasting to the end of the world. You're all welcome to join me,"

OR -

A Van Eck wins AU, mostly exploring how the Crows would respond to the situation but I have some semblance of a larger plot forming I just need to piece it together

If I'm Good Will You Come Back?

2k words, 1 chapter, sad and angst, gen but Helnik mentioned, canon compliant, major character death, completed

Summary:

Five times Matthias Helvar spoke to his baby sister through Djel, and one time that she answered

I’ve put major character death as a tag but it’s nothing beyond canon, it’s just depicted in this fic from a slightly different perspective 👍

Portrait of a Dead Girl

7 chapters so far, gen but also F/M, Alina and the Darkling are in a relationship in this but it isn't shipping them and the Darkling is the villain, canon divergence, alternate universe, rape/non-con, underage, major character death, work in progress

Summary:

Alina Starkov was given to Duke Aleksander Morozova of Os Alta in marriage when she was fifteen years old. Within a year, she was dead. The official cause of Alina's death was marked as putrid fever, but many at the time believed, and many in the future will go on to believe, that she was poisoned by her husband.

This fic is completely inspired by The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrel, which is a work of historical fiction based on the real lives of Duchess Lucrezia d'Este (née de' Medici) and Duke Alfonso ii d'Este of Ferrara. You don't need any prior knowledge of The Marriage Portrait or history to read and enjoy this fic, but know that my writing is very much going to mimic that of O'Farrel in format and although I'm hoping to write the story in my personal usual writing style I will definitely be borrowing a lot of my descriptors, symbols, and so on and so forth from O'Farrel - there will be some of mine too though :)

Somehow, Through The Storm

11 chapters so far but ongoing, kanej-centric with wesper and helnik featured, angst like you wouldn't believe, but also some happier times (ish), alternate universe, major character death, rape/non-con, work in progress

Summary:

In the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling their way through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there… * This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Recommendations

Posts where I'm recommending fics can be found here

GRISHAVERSE ANALYSIS LINKS

Okay this is gonna be where this starts getting complicated to organise but here we go, and hopefully now that I have this as a place to keep it organised I'll be able to routinely come back here and update it so we can keep it all together :)

Assorted analysis - Grishaverse

Grishaverse asks

-> subcategory of asks: 'DK finally gets it together and answers her asks because it's about damn time (working title)'

Chapter-by-chapter SOC analysis

(NOTE: I've really been meaning to bring this series back I just haven't had time, are people still interested??)

Specific posts (I've put these ones here because they're generally the ones people ask to be tagged in or that I reference in other posts)

Kanej bathroom scene analysis

Kaz and Wylan's potential to become each other

Rare Spices Billboard

Inej vs the Wraith

Kaz's views on hierarchy

Religion in the Grishaverse (this one is mostly Djel and a little bit of the Saints; I did also write a lot in a reblog of a really good post on Ghezenism by @skepticalcatfrog as well so if you're interested in either part of that you can find it here, I would highly recommend reading their post it's really interesting)

Shadow and Bone TV show analysis

GRISHAVERSE EDIT LINKS

I'm not really sure how to organise this one but all of them are tagged here

If people would like me to I could come back and try to arrange them by character or ship or something?

GRISHAVERSE KNITTING LINKS

Most of the time when I post about this stuff I give updates on all of them, but if you happen to want to filter them (or if I need to come back looking for something specific) then here are the projects:

Kefta cardigan

Six of Crows blanket

Toy crows of the Crows

GRISHAVERSE INCORRECT QUOTES

I organised these by their sources because there were too many for me to choose another way to sort them tbh

Text posts I made based on things my friends and I have actually said. In real life. - the series

Source: friends

Source: the completely made up adventures of Dick Turpin

Source: community

Source: Parks and Rec

Source: the good place

Source: modern family

Source: our flag means death

Source: ghostbusters

Source: renegade nell

Source: the office

Source: young sheldon

Source: the cornetto trilogy

Source: big bang theory

Source: what we do in the shadows

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lampiridaes · 11 months ago

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# christmas gift giving

★ — chars ; rui , akito

★ — notes ; HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONEEEE its officially christmas here in my timezone, so here's a present from me!! i absolutely adore akito and rui theyre some of my favs in the whole game ... and also tysm for 30 followers ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡! ik it isn't a lot for some people, but i'm very grateful nonetheless! sending a little kiss to all 30 of you /p

★ — notes (2) ; established relationship , reader isn't used to receiving gifts from people / affection in general , otherwise enjoy !!

★ — links ; original prompts , santa rilakkuma png

★ kamishiro rui :

he actually hid it pretty well! rui knows you very well, so he knows what you might like for the holidays.

and, if you're a talker, he doesn't even have to try that hard since you most likely mentioned something on your wishlist.

however, he figured that a handmade gift might steal your heart just a bit more. assuming he hasn't already.

he knows that you might have a hard time accepting gifts and love in general, even if he's told you that he doesn't mind caring for you. rui wants you to know that it's alright to rely on him sometimes and let him take care of you and such.

the way rui gave you his gift was really sweet and endearing! it was after a christmas performance with wxs, and he went up to you after most people left with a gift box in his hand.

"...what's this?"

what was inside the box, you might be wondering? a small robot companion, perfect for whatever your favorite activities are! whether it's drawing, writing, knitting, etc.

you were pleasantly surprised, of course. but at the same time, you felt as if you didn't deserve such an amazing gift. and amazing boyfriend at that.

"rui, you didn't have to get me anything..."

"dear, i wanted to make you something. just let me spoil you for today, alright?"

★ shinonome akito :

unlike rui, akito didn't hide it as well. fortunately for him, you just assumed he was busy practicing with vbs, hanging out with his friends... it was the holiday season, after all. even then, you really missed him and his presence.

unbeknownst to you, however, he was actually working hard and saving up money to get you something special. toya, an, and kohane all love you too, so they helped chip in some money!

the way akito gave you his gift was short and simple, yet still full of love. it was at the end of a date when you were about to go back to your home.

"oh, right, before i forget..."

he cleared his throat, now handing over something to you. you carefully unwrapped his present, realizing it's something you've been wanting for a while now!

... at the same time, it was also something that was on the pricier end.

"akito, how did you... you can't afford this?"

a bit of a ridiculous thing to say, considering he already bought it, but it still shocked you. he really got this for you, despite the price?

not to mention, he even paid for everything during your date...

"it's okay. i just wanted to get something for you."

"you're spoiling me too much today..."

"because you deserve it."

#rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai #pjsk #★ — you are my literature

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shadowynn · 2 years ago

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| in love and lore | five |

pairing: ateez x fem reader (mingi and wooyoung focused, with some seonghwa)

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: mentions of violence, some cursing, yandere themes throughout

summary: the daemon king and his seven black generals. names and faces of these eight had changed over the years as each new king was crowned, but their reputation as the most powerful daemons always remained the same. upon hearing the rumors one of the seven led the charge of the nearby battle, you should have stayed close to the encampment. you should have never wandered out on your own. but you did, and your life would never be the same again. good or bad, you would just have to wait to find out.

“There’s no need to be afraid, angel.” His words were a breath against the side of your neck. “You’ve done so much for us, let your king now return the favor.”

wordcount: 10.4k

a/n: and here we finally are. mc finally gets to meet more of the generals in person. :) i hope you all enjoy this next chapter and thank you again for all the love you’ve shown me and this series so far. i’ve had so much fun writing it and you’ve all helped keep me inspired to continue.

| four | five | six |

It lasted only three days. Three days of nearly continuous onslaught that passed in a hazy blur as you ran from one end of the city to the next and back again. You managed to catch an hour or two of sleep every so often, but the majority of the days and nights were spent on your feet, running to heal the injured soldiers and civilians in one section of the city before being carted off to another. While Suho and the majority of the other human healers remained at the infirmary to deal with the wounds of those able to be moved, the half-daemons were tasked with brewing as many health potions as they could. This task was short lived, however, as you had only managed to store so much of your blood before the attack began. Before the first day of the attack had come to an end, your stock had been deplenished.

You didn't let it stop you. Having no other choice and certain you wouldn't live past the battle anyways, you used your blood in its pure state to heal the soldiers who needed it the most. You did still attempt some subtlety in the act, filling up the empty vials you had on you when they weren't looking to ease the act of drinking your blood. And though some gave you strange looks when you proffered the unknown liquid, they disappeared when their injuries began to knit themselves back together.

Unable to stay away from the fighting, a guard had been stationed to you in an attempt to keep you from harm's way. The majority of the daemon forces remained on the other side of the wall, but it was impossible to stop the steady stream that breached them. While you had some basic training in self-defense, you were by no means a soldier and were nearly useless when it came down to a fight, especially against a daemon. And though the guard and the surrounding soldiers did keep you safe from the rare instances a daemon stumbled too close to you, you had still caught a stray arrow in the shoulder sometime in the third night. It had stung, but only put you out of work for a few minutes as the guard helped you pull it out so you could heal yourself and move on.

And then, it all came to a grinding halt.

One moment you were on the eastern ramparts healing a soldier whose abdomen had been slashed open and the next you were being ordered back to the infirmary when a ceasefire had been announced. At least, that's what the council was calling it, but you knew better than that. The council members were well aware the end was near and they didn't have the resources to win this fight. The ceasefire had been their last ditch effort to save themselves. They were surrendering in the hopes of preventing the entire city from burning to the ground with them still inside.

You were placed on lockdown in the infirmary on the dawn of the fourth day, unable to leave the premises but not really wanting to either. With a ceasefire now in place, the daemons had access to the city for the peace talks and you had no desire to run into or be seen by any of them. You knew they were in the city, the strange hole in your chest had been thrumming ever since the daemons had first attacked, and the uncertainty of what was going to happen now weighed heavily on your mind. While you held on to some hope you and your siblings would be kept safe from whatever was coming, you didn't know exactly how it would all work out, or if the daemons were even going to follow through with their promises.

What if they had lied? What if they had no intentions of keeping you safe? But then again, what if they had been telling the truth? What was going to happen to you then? Would they let you be like you had requested, or would they come for you? As nervous as you were at the prospect of your own demise, the thought of having to see another of the Seven, or even their king, let you just as terrified.

It didn't take long for your questions to be answered. In the afternoon of your second day on lockdown, the doors to the infirmary opened once more. Out of habit, you looked up from the soldier you were bandaging to assess the damage of the latest patient, but your breath hitched the moment you noticed the gleaming, black horns of the daemon in front.

He wasn't the same Black General from that night so many weeks ago, a bit taller than Seonghwa, but no less intimidating or attractive as he had been. It made you briefly wonder if their appearance had been a deciding factor when it came to being one of the Seven. If being that damn attractive was a requirement, All daemons held an unnatural beauty about them, an attribute that showed up in your own features, but these men were something else altogether. And the thought of them being selected based on something as vain as beauty would have made you laugh if it weren't for the position you were currently in.

"Shit," you swore, ducking behind the soldier you were attending to when the general's gaze swept through the infirmary. You couldn't stop the panic that had rose up inside you at his presence, heart race increasing at the thought of him being here because of you. It was crazy, ridiculous. What need did they have of you? Why would they waste the time of one of their generals to come fetch you? But the absurdity of it didn't stop your hands from beginning to shake.

Suho was the first to approach, talking with them for only a few moments before his own eyes began searching the room. When he caught sight of your crouched figure in the back corner, he called out your name and waved you over.

You couldn't stop the second round of curses from slipping out under your breath, and the sound of your name echoing through the now silent room was enough to send another wave of nerves coursing through you. The last thing you wanted to do was go over towards them, but you were left with no other choice when nearly every eye in the room turned your way when Suho called out for you once more.

"One second, please."

With one last deep breath, you finished bandaging the soldier in front of you before standing up and making your way over. You only hoped you looked more confident than you felt and none of them could see just how badly your hands were shaking at that moment.

"Do you need something?"

If they didn't notice your shaking hands, they were bound to notice the slight warble in your voice as you spoke. You were well aware of the general's eyes on your figure as you approached. You could practically feel them boring into you. But you did your best to ignore him for the time being and focused on Suho instead.

"As per agreement with the current status of the treaty talks and as a gesture of good faith, your council has agreed to send you over into our care for the time being and attend to our wounded." It was the general who responded, black eyes still unabashedly taking in your figure as you hovered behind Suho.

"How long will she be there?" Suho asked, and while his defensive nature might have read as annoyance at having his most valuable healer taken away from him for the foreseeable future, you knew him well enough to know he was simply worried for your own wellbeing.

"Until the king decides he has no further use of her." His eyes narrowed, disliking the tone or stance Suho had taken.

"It's okay, Suho." You put a hand on his shoulder, drawing the gaze of each man back to you. "I can take care of myself. Just do me a favor, will you? If you see Soomin or Hyunwoo, will you let them know I'm okay? And that I'll meet them back at the house as soon as I'm able." And though your tone was light, you still stumbled over your words at the thought of your siblings. You hadn't seen either of them since the attack on Maehwa had begun, and though you had received word that both of them were alive and well, you couldn't help but still worry about them. Unlike you, they didn't have the supposed protection of the daemons.

Suho nodded. "If I see them, I'll let them know. Just be careful out there."

"Aren't I always?"

You squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to convey your gratitude towards him, a hint of a smile popping up. You weren't quite certain you were heading to your demise, but it was a thought you couldn't shake. And if you were, and you never saw Suho again, you wanted to thank him for everything he had done for you. For all those years you had known and worked under him, Suho had treated you with a kindness not seen by many. Whatever the future held, you hoped he would not suffer.

"Don't worry, no harm will come to her under our care. She will be safe with us." The Black General's eyes had locked onto the exchange between the two of you, expression softening as you quickly began running through the current status of your storeroom with Suho. "Much safer than she had ever been among your kind. Daemons may hold grudges, but we also make sure to always repay those who have shown us kindness."

His eyes met yours, and you struggled to figure out how exactly his statement made you feel, words stumbling to a close. When he had stated you were being handed over to them for your ability and as a gesture of good faith, you had believed him. That they had purely come to you for your talents. For you blood. But now, you weren't so sure. As crazy as it felt, you couldn't help but now wonder if they had come today because they had wanted you. Not for your ability, but simply because they were finally following through with their promise to keep you safe.

The daemons had set up camp outside the city's walls and the long walk to reach it was spent in silence. You had a hard time not fidgeting with the ends of your sleeves as you walked beside the general, still trying to wrap your head around the true motive behind you going with them. His eyes often strayed in your direction, but he made no move to break the silence that had settled around you. You didn't bother trying to break it either. Despite the million questions burning inside you, your nerves kept you from speaking.

You had tried to play off your fears in front of Suho, but now that you were alone with him and the other daemon guards, you had a hard time hiding them. You didn't know what awaited you back at their camp, and as much as you didn't want to go with them, you had no say in the matter. It wasn't like you could try and run from them. Not only would that possibly void any agreement you might have had with them, but you wouldn't stand a chance against them if you tried. Even if they weren't physically stronger and faster than you, the general's daemon ability was a threat to you. You were well aware he had one. He had to have one for someone of his status, and if it was anything like Seonghwa's, you didn't stand a chance against him. You had tried to run before, after all, and look where that had gotten you. Absolutely nowhere.

Once you had reached the southern gates, the general waved away the daemons who had been accompanying you, ordering them to return to their original posts. Just like before, you found your nerves growing as you were left alone with one of the Seven once again, wondering what was going to become of you this time around. It wasn't until you had cleared the gates and were away from any prying eyes or ears that he finally spoke to you.

"I can see now why the others have seemed so smitten with you. When Seonghwa claimed you truly were the angel the rumors spoke about, I was skeptical, and yet..." His lip twitched, the shadow of a smirk appearing at the chuckle that escaped his mouth. "I see now why he was so upset when Hongjoong sent him to lead the assault at Yuchae. Along with why he was so quick on taking it once we had arrived here."

You remained quiet, too unsure of how his statement made you feel to think of a proper response. It seemed like a compliment, especially with the smirk that remained as he assessed your reaction out of the corner of your eye, but you had a hard time feeling flattered by it. Not when it came from him. Despite the thrumming in your chest that attempted to lull you into a sense of warmth and security, you could feel the power radiating off of him. His presence was nearly suffocating, the intensity of his aura unnerving. And without knowing just what he and the others intended to do with you, you figured it was in your best interest to keep your distance and hope their interest in you would wane when their need for you was over.

“Hongjoong said the past few days have been rough on you, so I’m under orders to only take you to the soldiers who are in the most dire need of your services for the day and then let you get some rest.” If he was upset by your lack of a response, he didn’t show it, continuing on with their plans for you without skipping a beat. “He said you haven’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks thanks to those fucking pigs working you day and night.”

“They needed me,” you were quick to reply this time around, an edge of bitterness in your tone that matched the disgust that had laced his own words. While it was true you were exhausted and overworked, you hadn’t ever minded the long hours. A few more hours awake meant a few more soldiers that wouldn’t end up dead.

“And what exactly did they do to show you their gratitude?” he spit back with even more venom than before. “By threatening to have you killed for treason if you didn’t do exactly what they wanted when they wanted it?”

“And you would have treated me any more kindly?” While his words were true, you had a hard time letting him speak in such a manner when you knew for a fact things wouldn’t have been any different for you if you had been on their side. “You would have your men treat me as an equal among them?”

“You have done a great service to our king. If anyone were to treat you unkindly, they would pay for the disservice they had shown you.”

“Ah, of course,” you scoffed, his words doing little to comfort you. “You would have killed them the same way you would have killed me when I had been born a halfbreed. Or would it be more akin to the way you killed that lady when she threatened my life?”

“What were we supposed to do? Just let her live after what she said to you? After what she did to you?” He came to a stop, head shaking as he refuted your statement. “She resigned herself to her own fate the moment she fucking touched you.”

You took a step away from him, turning your head in an attempt to get your emotions back under control. There was a lot you wanted to say, but his words scared you as much as they angered you. A haunting reference to what the daemon had said to you that first night back home and a reminder she had only died because of you.

Anyone who so much as touches you will face the full wrath of the daemon king.

“You think us cruel for what we did, and perhaps we are.” A hand reached for your face, lifting your gaze towards him. “But if you knew what she had done. If you knew what she wanted to do to you, what she thought of you, you would know she deserved every ounce of cruelty we showed her. I only wish I had been there myself to add to it.”

“And what,” your breath hitched, struggling to speak as the intensity of his aura hit you again in that moment. A stark reminder of just who you were speaking to and how Hak’s fate could just as easily become your own if you didn’t reign in your emotions. “What was it that she thought of me? That I’m a traitor to my own people? That I’m a disgrace? That I’m nothing more than a lowly, dirty mutt? That I don’t deserve the life I have? And how wonderful it would be to watch me die?” You shook your head, eyes closing. “I knew exactly what she was thinking. It’s the same thing nearly everyone thinks of me.” Taking a breath in an attempt to even out your voice, your eyes opened once more and locked onto his own. “Both daemons and humans. So, forgive me, please, when I have a hard time believing you would treat me any differently. Not after everything you’ve put me through these past weeks.”

“I will admit things have not gone as smoothly as we had hoped, but if you’re expecting an apology for her death, I won’t give you one. None of us will. Not after what she did to you.“ He shook his head, expression set.

“Why?” If you had thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing to how he appeared now: every bit the Black General you had heard rumors about. Every bit the man you had envisioned them to be in your head. “Why are you doing this?”

“We promised you we would keep you safe. If we didn’t stop her from following through with her threat, we would have broken our word to you.”

“But, why? Why are you doing this for someone like me?”

“Because you saved so many of our men’s lives. Because you saved Seonghwa’s life. Would it not be wrong of us to not want to return the favor? To return the kindness you’ve shown us?”

“No, not when I’ve told you I don’t need you to.” You turned your face away from him, arms crossing along your chest. “Not when I requested for you to do the exact opposite and to just leave me alone. Not when you’re going to start killing people because of it.”

“You have siblings, don’t you, angel? How would you feel if it had been one of them who had been in harm’s way? How would you feel if it had been one of them who’s life was being threatened?” His tone had softened, the previous venom he had spoke with beginning to deteriorate. “We may not be related by blood, but Seonghwa is like a brother to me. Losing him would have been akin to losing a part of myself. And for a moment there, I thought I was going to lose him. I was so sure he was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it. I was powerless to stop it, but then you appeared. You saved him and now I can’t help but feel that nothing I ever do will repay you for the kindness you showed us that night.”

“I can understand why you may feel that way, but I never needed to be repaid. I didn’t do what I did because I wanted something in return. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this.” You turned your face back towards him, hoping he would listen to you. “I do not need to be repaid for what I’ve done, but if you truly feel as though you are in my debt, then will you please just let me be? You’ve saved my life, and I appreciate the gesture, but please. I just want my life to return to what it used to be. I just want things to be normal again.”

“I’m sorry, angel. I am more than happy to carry out nearly anything you ask of me, but I cannot fulfill that one.” His hand raised to your shoulder, and though his words cut, genuine sympathy did seem to appear in his eyes. “You are so much more important than you could possibly understand.“

“Then help me understand.” Your eyes pleaded with him, begging him to clear everything up for you. To finally explain what was going on and whether you would end up dead by the end of it. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let me go? What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m afraid I cannot answer those for you at this time, angel.” His hand squeezed your shoulder, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips as he did his best to attempt to alleviate the frustration and fear you felt towards everything they had done to you. “But know that you are safe now. We won’t let anything else happen to you. We won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

It was impossible to fight the frown his answer - or lack of one - pulled out of you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the question that had started it all from falling out again. Why? Why were they keeping you safe? Why were they so intent on protecting you? Why did your chest ache whenever you weren’t around one of them? Why wouldn’t they just let you go? And why the hell would they not answer any of your questions?

They talked about repaying you, wanting to thank you for what you had done, but then why would they not repay you in the way you asked? If they truly wanted to thank you, they should just leave you be like you asked. And if they truly couldn’t, then at least they could explain to you why. You may have not liked it or the excuses they would give you, but you would take it. It would be better than the obliviousness they seemed intent on keeping you in.

“I know how this might all sound. I know how confused and overwhelmed this has made you, but everything will be made clear in due time.” His hand lowered to your back, gently guiding you in the direction of the tents before you. “For now, let us do what we came here for and then you may get some much needed rest. I’m sure you’ll feel much better in the morning when you’re not so exhausted.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to tell him that your exhaustion had nothing to do with how you felt at this current moment, but he gave you no time to do so. Now that you were near the encampment, your conversation was no longer private. Daemons roamed around the grounds, each of them quick to observe you. Anything you might have still wanted to say to the general fell away at their presence. Their looks were heavy on the back of your neck, and though you saw more than a few scowls pointed in your direction once they realized what you were, no one said a word. Not with the man gently guiding you through them. And as much as you disliked him in that moment, you couldn’t help but inch your way closer towards him, shrinking beneath the weight of their eyes.

If he noticed the way you had begun to cling closer towards him, he didn’t mention it. Now that you were in their camp, he had become silent once more, leaving the weight of your past conversation hanging in between you.

Working did ease some of the tension that had built inside you. In the middle of the enemies’ encampment and surrounded by strangers, the act of it brought a sense of familiarity. Though the majority of the soldiers were hesitant in your presence, wondering why someone of your kind was attending to them, none of them spoke back to you. You knew what they truly thought. You could see the looks they sent your way when they thought you weren’t looking, but they held their tongue when they noticed your guard.

But even the looks eventually stopped when you began your work. Without any healing potions left, you had no choice but to use your blood freely on those closest to death. And once you started offering it with promises to ease the pain, your identity was revealed to them and whispers of you being the Black Angel swiftly flew through the camp.

Was this why they wouldn’t just let you be? Because they had learned of your ability and decided it was too valuable to let go? If you could save Seonghwa from death’s door, then what else could you do for them? How else could you benefit them?

You learned the general who escorted you was named Mingi from the soldiers who talked with him, and though his eyes were quick to catch each of your movements, he made no move to question anything you did. Every once in a while you would catch him muttering something under his breath, but his words were too quiet to make out above the noise of the camp.

About an hour after your arrival, Mingi decided you had done enough for the day. You attempted to argue at first, taking quick note of the daemons still in need of your care and the last few hours of daylight that remained, but he held strong against your requests, especially at the way you were having a hard time holding back your yawns. Instead, he grabbed hold of your shoulder and guided you out of the infirmary before you could attempt to work a bit more by prolonging the argument between you.

You assumed he was taking you back into the city to your house, but we’re surprised when he instead came to a stop in front of one of the tents set up in the middle of the encampment, the golden sigil of their king hanging outside the entrance.

“You can rest here for the night. A bath has been drawn for you inside and though we were a bit unprepared when it came to clothes, you’ll find a clean set that will do for now. I’ll be standing guard out here for the next few hours, so if you need anything else in the meantime, please come ask.”

You hadn’t realized how quickly your heart had started beating when you saw the banner hanging outside the tent until Mingi explained where he actually taken you. For a split second you had thought he had actually taken you to meet with their king and it had caused a panic to erupt inside of you faster than you had expected. Now that he had made his intentions known, however, you inwardly cursed yourself for your stupidity. Why would they take you to see their king? Why would he want to speak with you?

“I appreciate the thought, but this isn’t necessary. I have a house in the city and I’m sure it would be easier if I just returned there for the night. I don’t want to put anyone out of their bed when my own is so close.” And I just want to be in the safety of my own house with my family again.

It was clear the tent did belong to someone, and someone of importance as the size and adornments set it apart from the others scattered among the fields. Mingi’s offer may have seemed friendly on the surface, but it left you uncomfortable all the same. While the thought of taking someone’s space when yours was just a short walk away did leave you with some discomfort, it was the way his words mimicked his earlier sentiments. Of how they had no intention of letting you go for the time being.

“I assure you the tent’s original occupant doesn’t mind. In fact, he insisted you stay here for the time being when the problem presented itself,” he replied, but it didn’t ease your feelings on the matter. It did little to fight the idea you were a prisoner here for the time being, especially when he would be standing guard outside the whole time. “I know you would prefer to go home, but we felt it would be safer keeping you here where we can afford more than a spare set of eyes watching you,” he continued. “Tensions are still high at the moment and who knows how the humans will react if they come to find out you’ve been healing our soldiers instead of theirs. We would all feel much better with you here than with them. At least until we conclude our business here.”

Your lips twisted, taking in the tent before you one last time as you debated whether this was something worth fighting him on or not. You were well aware this was a battle you wouldn’t be winning, but that didn’t make it any easier to just accept it either. You may be their prisoner for the time being, but that didn’t mean you were just going to accept your fate. You didn’t stand a chance against them, you knew that, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being able to control you without a little bit of a fight. Without letting them know just how frustrating and terrifying this whole situation was for you.

They acted like this was all for your benefit. For your safety. But you didn’t see how being trapped here with them was beneficial to you. How it was supposed to be protecting you. You had no say in coming over here and you had no say in when you would be leaving. Whether this was actually on their part, the council’s, or both, it didn’t matter. You were nothing more than a pawn between the two. Hated by both for who you were, but beyond useful.

“You’re sure he doesn’t mind?”

You didn’t want to give in, but the thought of a hot bath did tempt you. You had a chance to clean yourself when you had arrived back at the infirmary the day before, but that had been nothing more than a cold bucket of water to wipe off the grime and dirt that had collected and extinguish the smell of the battlefield off your body. It had been nearly a week since you had last had a chance to bathe and relax, and it would be a shame to turn it all down because your pride had a hard time accepting kindness from them.

But was this even kindness they were showing you? They presented it in an offer to repay you, but you couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion you would be expected to pay it all back in full when the moment came. That this kindness wasn’t the same you had shown towards them, but an ulterior motive to get something from you. What that might have been, you didn’t know, but there had to be something. Daemons wouldn’t treat you this way without expecting something in return.

At Mingi’s insistence it was fine, you finally relented and took the offer to head inside. Your suspicion of the tent belonging to someone of importance was confirmed as you wandered inside. While the decor and furniture were sparse, the few items there were of a quality you could never hope to attain. A bed was set in the back corner, and though the sheets and pillows were plain, you could tell by just looking at them, they would be the softest and nicest set you would ever have the opportunity to lay in. The bath Mingi had mentioned laid in the other corner, hidden behind a set of screens set up for your privacy. The set of clothes he had also spoken of were folded on a stool next to it alongside some soap and towels.

A small table and a set of chairs sat to the left of the entrance, while a much larger table took up the majority of the center. Papers and maps were scattered across its surface and one glance had you diverting your eyes. The entirety of the table’s contents contained valuable information on the war and left you with the sense you were intruding. If it wasn’t for the immaculate condition of the rest of the room and the items near the bath they had set up for you, you would have thought they had just forgotten to clean up. The more likely option was that they didn’t feel the need to hide anything. The war was all but won for them, and even if it wasn’t, who would you tell? You weren’t going anywhere soon, not with Mingi standing guard outside. And even if you could get away from him, where would you go and who would you tell when there was another daemon who could control your body at a second’s notice.

Either way, you didn’t want to look at them, not when you didn’t know if they had left it out to see what you would do. So, you averted your eyes and made your way to the bath to bathe before the water grew too cold.

You felt more relaxed inside the tent, away from any prying eyes, but knowing Mingi was waiting just outside did keep you on edge. He didn’t seem like the type of person to walk in unannounced, especially when he was the one who had suggested you take the time to bathe, but the lack of security in your privacy did concern you. You were alone now, but you still felt exposed here in the middle of a camp full of daemons you couldn’t trust, and you slipped out of your clothes and into the water as quickly as you could. They might have hated your kind, but that hadn’t stopped some men from being men before.

The water felt better than you had been expecting, or that you cared to admit, and you sank further into it with a deep sigh. The want to take your time and relish this small luxury until the water ran cold did hit you, but the anxiety of taking too long and someone wandering inside crept at the back of your mind and kept you from lingering in the water for too long. Once you had scrubbed your body and hair clean, you only strayed for a minute or two longer before climbing out.

The air was chilly as you stepped out, and you were quick to pull on the clothes that had been set aside for you. Just like everything else in this place, the quality of items were nicer than anything you had ever worn before. The material was soft and though a few sizes too big, you found the oversized fit oddly comfortable, relishing in the small comfort you found in the way the shirt drowned your figure.

Once you were clean, you were unsure of what to do next. You were exhausted, but knew you would have a hard time sleeping with the sunlight still peeking through the fabric of the tent. And if you weren’t sleeping, you were left with just two other options. Either sit inside the tent by yourself for the next few hours and drive yourself insane thinking about what was going to happen to you, or go see if you couldn’t happen to pull some more answers out of Mingi. He had said if you needed anything, to just ask, and you felt like answers were something you could use right about now. That and some food. You hadn’t had time to eat much the past few days and your stomach was starting to growl. If they had offered up a bath, perhaps you could also get some food out of them in the meantime.

To your surprise, Mingi was no longer alone when you made your way back outside. A table and chairs had been set up in your absence and another daemon sat in the chair beside him.

He sat backwards in his chair, arms crossed along the back as he listened intently to something Mingi was saying. Upon hearing your approach, his eyes flitted over to you and his expression softened as he took you in.

“Oh, you’re still up! I guess my trip over here wasn’t in vain then.” He exchanged a look with Mingi who seemed equally surprised at your appearance as he did. “This is for you, by the way. I brought it just in case you were hungry, though you’ll have to forgive me for sneaking a few bites.” He pushed the plate he mentioned towards you, snagging one of the grapes and popping it in his mouth. “I’m Wooyoung. It’s nice to officially meet you, angel.”

“Have we met?” you asked, having no choice but to take the other chair next to Mingi when he pulled it out for you to sit. Something about him did feel familiar, but you felt for sure you would remember him if you had met him before. Your theory of the generals being picked based on their appearance continued to hold as you took him in, noting he was just as attractive as the others.

“Just once and I’ll even give you a hint.”

His smile and demeanor were light and teasing, the exact opposite of what you had always expected from the daemons you had heard rumors about your entire life. Each of the Seven you had met did seem far less terrifying than the stories had gone, but you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to be lulled into the act. After all, you were more than aware they had killed Hak Seongmin and with a cruelty Mingi had refused to apologize for. They might have seemed kind on the outside, but you knew of the darker side that hid within. You had seen it for yourself.

Clearing his throat, Wooyoung did his best to mask his playfulness with something a little more serious. “Miss l/n, did you or did you not have something to do with what happened to Ms. Hak last night?”

“That was you?”

You couldn’t keep the shock off your face and he laughed while nodding his head. Part of you didn’t want to believe him. The idea of an ability that allowed him to blend in so easily with the humans was terrifying, but it was clear he was telling the truth. He looked nothing like the man who had interrogated you nearly a week ago, but his behavior and mannerisms were too similar for him to be anyone else. How he had snuck in and impersonated one of the upper guards well enough to even fool the people he was with, though, you had no idea. But one thing was clear. His daemon ability was powerful. Much more powerful than your blood, and you wondered what other hidden talents each of these men had.

“I knew he was a daemon, but…” You hadn’t expected him to be one of the Seven? You hadn’t expected him to be so… attractive.

Your words trailed off, the hint of a blush rising up the back of your neck. You had known he was a daemon, but you had just assumed he was just hiding his daemonic features, not his entire appearance. And seeing him now, in his true form, you were reminded of all the sly looks and smirks he had sent your way that day. And of the voice that had rung in your head when you had thought he was Yeosang.

Oh, god. Does that mean they could read your thoughts? Could they hear what was running through you head right now? Had they just heard how you had just admitted they were both equally as attractive?

It was hard to tell. A smirk had crossed Wooyoung’s features as he assessed you from the other side of the table, but if he was aware of what thoughts were currently running through your head, he made no inclination towards hearing them.

“Yeah, Hongjoong wasn’t exactly happy when I didn’t try very hard at hiding it to you, but well, it was my first time meeting you and I was excited-“

“More like you just wanted to show off,” Mingi mumbled, earning a kick from Wooyoung under the table for his comment.

“I’ll have you know it’s quite hard to stay undercover when you have multiple people’s thoughts interrupting your own on top of constantly sorting through the thoughts of the person you’re supposed to be. I was just trying to do my job, but Hongjoong kept going on and on. ‘Act more serious, Woo, you’re giving yourself away.’ Or ‘Why the hell did you just ask her that? You’re going to get her in trouble!’ For a second there, I thought my brain was going to explode.” He groaned, rubbing at his temple before reaching over to steal another bite of food off the plate he had previously stated was for you. “Please, eat. Otherwise I might accidentally beat you to it.” He gave a sort of sheepish smile before leaning his chin down into his arms with a sigh. “I swear, nothing is more exhausting than sitting in a room and listening to those pigs go on and on all day long about why we shouldn’t just kill them. If you ask me, I’d much rather have finished them off by other means, but well…” His words trailed off, eyes flickering over in your direction. “Be thankful you got to leave when you did, Mingi.”

“I’m well aware, trust me. None of you even tried to hide your disappointment when Hongjoong picked me to go fetch her,” he replied, a smirk crossing his face as he settled back into his own chair.

“And then you didn’t even bother to hide that same damn smirk when he called out your name either, you smug bastard,” Wooyoung snapped back, but the smile that danced on his face was teasing. “Although you’ll get a kick out of hearing the human’s latest development in saving their own hides. A marriage alliance.”

“You’re kidding me?” Mingi’s smirk fell at the news. “After everything they’ve done, this pigs really think they can fuck their way back into our good graces?”

Even you had a hard time keeping the surprise off your face. The hypocrisy of the offer hitting you hard. The humans hated the daemons, and in turn, they hated your kind. The fact those who had mistreated and despised you for your lineage were now offering to form an alliance that would result in more half-daemons like you was not only insulting, it was degrading.

“San couldn’t hold back his amusement when they first mentioned it and burst out laughing before he realized they were being serious,” Wooyoung continued, eyes flickering in your direction at the scoff you were unable to hide from his earlier statement. “Even Hongjoong had a hard time covering his distaste towards the offer and wasted no time calling them out on the hypocrisy of their offer. I swear, they’re selfish, fucking pigs, all of them. The sooner we get back home and away from them, the better.”

“Thank you for the food, but I think I might retire for the night.”

You knew this was an opportune time to try and wrangle information out of them, but the comments they had made towards the possible marriage alliance made your stomach churn and you found yourself wanting to be alone as your mind raced over what they had meant. To think the very people who had been so cruel to you your entire life suddenly being okay with someone of mixed blood now that their lives were at risk more than frustrated you.

It wasn’t just the humans that had you reeling, though, but the daemons reactions to it as well. They had laughed at the idea, finding it so utterly preposterous that they would ever mix their blood with a creature so far below them. Finding it utterly disgusting. Finding you disgusting.

“Aw, I know you’re tired, but do you think you can stay up for just a bit longer, angel?” Wooyoung’s tone lightened as he addressed you, eyes glancing momentarily towards Mingi as though he could feel the way your mood had suddenly shifted. “The ones from Yuchae should be arriving here soon and I know Seonghwa has been eager to see you again. Can you at least stay up until he gets here? Pretty please?”

His words had your stomach twisting again, wondering just who he and the others were. This innocent, kind act had to be a charade, right? They couldn’t possibly feel that way towards you? Not when they were so appalled by the idea of a marriage alliance with the humans. Not when it was so well known the daemons hated your kind. So, what was the meaning behind it? Why had they saved you? Why had they protected you when they disliked halfbreeds so much? Just what were they trying to get at?

“Fine, but answer me a question in return, will you? Why do you hate my kind so much?” The question was out before you could stop it and the reaction it pulled from each of the daemons sitting before you showed it had caught them off guard. “Like, I just really don’t get why everyone hates us so much. Why is the idea of a halfbreed so terrible? Why is the idea of us so disgusting? Why does my simple existence cause so much grief for yours?”

“Angel, none of us hates you. We could never hate you.” Wooyoung was the first to speak, a sad expression crossing his features as though you thinking that had hurt as much as their words had hurt you. “Why would you ever think such a thing?”

“Oh, so we’re just going to pretend you didn’t just say how disgusting the idea of a human and a daemon being together is, huh? And why’s that? Because it taints the blood?”

“You misunderstood us, angel. We don’t hate you for what you are. Our distaste is towards the hypocrisy the humans have shown in their offer. We’re more than aware of how they’ve treated you just because you’re not fully human, and the idea they are now willing to be okay with both daemons and halfbreeds to save themselves is disgusting.”

You cocked your head, searching for any source of distrust in Wooyoung’s face as he spoke. He seemed sincere in his speech, and as you mulled over his earlier words once again, you began to see where you might have misinterpreted them.

“But then why? Why does-“

“y/n, I know how confusing this all must be for you right now, but you just have to trust us, okay?” Mingi interrupted you, and you didn’t realize how your hands had begun to shake until he laid one of his own on top of them. “I know you want answers, but just give us a little more time to sort through some things. When the time is right, Hongjoong will explain everything. Just trust us when we say you are safe here with us. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

You had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from saying anything that might get you in trouble. How the hell were you supposed to trust them when nothing they had done made you feel like you could? It was impossible to tell when they were telling the truth or not, so how the hell were you supposed to just trust them when they said everything was going to be okay? Seonghwa had said no one would hurt you and then attacked you once you had healed him. How did you know the others wouldn’t do the same? How did you know if you could truly trust them?

But one look at both of them and you knew you wouldn’t be getting anything else out of them. Mingi had just given you the same roundabout answer he had given you the last time. Only this time, he had let it slip Hongjoong would give you answers when the time was right.

“This Hongjoong you mentioned. Is he…” you began instead, “…is he the one inside my head?”

It felt strange asking it, and you were half afraid they would think you were crazy, but you remembered Wooyoung’s earlier remarks about him. About how he had been talking to him during the interrogation. And then there were Mingi’s comments about how Hongjoong knew certain aspects of your life, making you wonder if he had not only been speaking to you, but spying as well. A thought that nearly left you shivering.

“So, he’s already started talking to you, has he?” Wooyoung smirked, mumbling something else under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch, but had Mingi chuckling.

“Well, he sort of had to when you botched up the interrogation,” he replied, earning another kick from Wooyoung.

“I’ll have you know everything was going just fine.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Even with the truth potion, none of them would have believed her if she had said a daemon had done it. I would have made sure of it. And even if they had, Yeosang and I would have gotten her out of there with very little effort.”

It unnerved you how flippant they were with the whole situation, oblivious to how terrifying it was to have confirmation someone had access to your brain and could spy on you without you realizing it. What all had they seen or heard from you? To know at any given moment, he could not only be spying on your thoughts or actions, but that he could control your body as well was more than unnerving. It was terrifying.

“I know how it may seem, but try not to let it worry you so much. Hongjoong does his best to respect others’ privacy. After all, even he knows what it feels like to have his own thoughts used against him.” Mingi shot an annoyed look over at Wooyoung. “He tries to only intervene when it’s absolutely necessary, like when your emotions begin to spike.”

“So, he can just read my thoughts, then? Whenever he wants?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“But like I said, you needn’t worry about it for the time being.” Mingi was quick to add seeing how their words affected you. “Hongjoong will explain it all to you later. Until then, trust us when we say none of us will willingly read them.”

Your lips twisted, feeling no better with the vague answer the two had given you. It might have held some relief knowing they weren’t observing your every last move, but none of it still sat right with you. What had Mingi meant when he said none of them would willingly read them? That they would leave you alone unless they had no other choice? Like when they decided they had no choice during the interrogation? Even when you had screamed at them to just leave you alone?

And then, who exactly was this Hongjoong? Both of them had mentioned him quite often. Your first assumption was that he was just another one of the Seven. A daemon with an ability to somehow get in the minds of others, but now you weren’t so sure. They spoke casually of him, like they did with the others, but there was a certain air of respect when they spoke of him. Maybe he was just another Black General, but what if he wasn’t? What if he was actually their king?

It sounded crazy. It felt crazy. To think that the man who had been conversing with you inside your mind, the king of the daemons. But as you ran through every conversation you could remember about this man, it all seemed to fit. Hongjoong said this. Hongjoong told me to do this. Hongjoong wasn’t happy about this. Hongjoong decided on this. And if this was true, that he really was the daemon king, you had already met him. At least, in a way. He had spoken to you multiple times and been the one to get you through the interrogation without exposing yourself or Yeosang.

And then, on more than one occasion, he had called you pretty.

It was hard to stop the blush that rose up at this last thought, and you prayed the dying light alongside your hand hid the reaction it pulled out of you. But as flustered as it made you feel, it reminded you of how ridiculous the whole thing was. Even with all the signs pointing to him being the daemon king, you knew it couldn’t actually be true. Why would he think you were pretty? Let alone take the time to make sure you were safe and help you out when you ended up in a dangerous predicament.

No, he couldn’t have been their king. He must have just been another one of the Seven. He had to have been another one of the Seven. For as ludicrous as it was for them to treat you this way, it was even more so for someone of his status to. No, the daemon king wouldn’t bother himself with the likes of someone like you.

“Have the others made it back, yet?” Mingi asked in your silence, turning the conversation to another topic. A silent motion that told you no more of your questions were being discussed tonight.

“Hongjoong wanted to run through some things in the city after the meetings were over, so he had Yeosang accompany him for the sake of discretion. Meanwhile, San arrived the same time I did, but was ordered to start getting a better defense set up around the camp much to his distaste. He was so looking forward to meeting our angel here.”

Though distracted by your own thoughts to pay much attention to what new conversation they had started, your ears did prick up at the mention of Yeosang. This wasn’t the first time he had been mentioned tonight, and the double mention of him had your stomach churning once more. While it could have been purely coincidental, you knew the answer to the question his mention brought up before you could ask it. Yeosang wasn’t just another daemon. He was a Black General like all the others. The realization of it only added to the bitterness you felt towards him and the others. Why wouldn’t the only nice, pretty boy you had thought to be human be one of the Seven? And his time with you nothing more than an act to get you to lower your guard around him. To lull you in to whatever game they were playing.

The sound of your name being called out behind you pulled you out of your thoughts once more and you instantly tensed. You didn’t have to look to know who it had been. You already knew who it was. The daemon who had started it all. The one who had gotten you into this mess in the first place. Seonghwa.

“You’re still up! I thought for sure you would be asleep by the time we made it back.”

His eyes were bright and smile wide as he approached the table you were sitting at. As if the last instance you remember with him wasn’t his fangs at your neck. As if the last memory you had of him was thinking he was going to kill you.

He pulled out the chair next to you, tugging it closer towards your own before collapsing into it in a similar fashion as Wooyoung.

“She stayed up just to see you, Hwa,” Wooyoung replied for you. The words combined with the wink he shot in your direction enough to make your cheeks tint once more.

“Is that so?” He asked, and the smirk that crossed his face as he rested his chin on top of his arms along the back of the chair was enough to deepen the blush Wooyoung had started. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long, then, angel.”

You averted your gaze, unable to stop the mixture of emotions that flooded you in that moment. You were terrified of this man, there was no questioning that. The way his fangs had sunk into your neck still haunted you to this day. You had been so sure he was killing you, and yet, here you were. Just as alive as you had been that night. So, if he hadn’t wanted to kill you, what had he meant to do?

But despite your fears, you were once again struck with how incredibly attractive he was. And as his eyes roamed over your figure in the dying light, you were quick to remember the way he had called you beautiful that night. Was that why they had gone through so much effort to keep you safe and why Wooyoung had taken it upon himself to tease you about it? Because Seonghwa had taken some sort of special interest in you that night? You knew daemons didn’t hold relationships the same way humans did, and what little you knew of their ‘mating’ process felt much more barbaric than the traditional marriage seen by the humans. So, was that what the bite had been for? Some dark, twisted, daemon ritual for him to mark you as his own? The thought, as crazy as it was, still left you shivering in your seat and praying you were wrong.

“I’m guessing everything went according to plan in Yuchae, then?” You were saved from having to come up with a reply when Mingi spoke up beside you, an edge to his tone that caused Seonghwa to roll his eyes as he turned back to him.

“The humans put up far less of a defense than we had been expecting,” he replied, stealing a bite to eat from your plate when he noticed it sitting in front of you. “We could have taken it much earlier, but Hongjoong told us to pull things out until you surprised them here. Once we had the all clear, it was very little trouble to take.”

“And Yunho and Jongho?”

“They both headed straight to the tents upon our arrival. Yunho takes over your shift later, so he decided to get some sleep beforehand. Jongho, on the other hand, thought it best if we give her some space and didn’t all rush her at once. If you ask me, though, I'd say he was just nervous.” His eyes twinkled in your direction.

It was hard trying to keep each of the names they mentioned straight in you head. It was likely each of them were another member of the Seven, but they flew through each of them so quickly, you had a hard time saving each to memory and wondering if all Seven had been mentioned so far.

“That’s our Jongho for you. You’d never know he was the fiercest one out of us all on the battlefield with the way he acts outside of it.” Wooyoung chuckled.

“I think we’ve kept y/n up for long enough.” Mingi interrupted their teasing, catching the way you attempted to smother your yawn with a hand. “Hongjoong and Yeosang are on their way back now, and he wants you to report to him before you go to bed. You, however,” his gaze turned from Seonghwa to you, however, “should retire for the night, angel. You can meet the others tomorrow.” He rose from his chair, offering a small smile as he extended his hand towards you. “Thank you for keeping us company tonight, though. I’ll be gone in the morning, but Yunho will be here when you wake up.”

You nod, hesitantly taking his hand to help bring you to your feet. You had no qualms going to bed, and in fact, welcomed the excuse to leave them. After everything that had happened today, you needed time to think. To sort through everything you had found out.

Each of the daemons issued some sort of farewell as you went. Wooyoung even going so far as to kiss the top of your hand and ushering a soft apology in your ear for any distress the earlier conversation might have caused you. You mumbled your own farewell in return before entering the tent, taking a deep sigh of relief now that you were alone once more.

Things quieted down as you crawled your way into bed. Mingi sent Wooyoung on his way now that you were gone, but you could still make out some idle chatter between him and Seonghwa as they waited for the others to return. You attempted to stay up. Your curiosity towards wanting to know if this Hongjoong really was their king, and if so, perhaps even sneaking a peek of him getting the better of you, but the sheets were even softer than you had imagined and found it harder to keep your eyes open with each passing minute.

You thought you heard a new voice at some point, followed by the faint sound of your name. It left you fighting the sleep overcoming you, struggling to open your eyes and listen to what was going on outside the tent, but one soft whisper of ‘Go to sleep, angel,” and a gentle push to keep your eyes closed was all it took to keep you where you were. And before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

@layzfeelit @calirix @seonghwarizon @yunho0o0o0o @blglmgk01 @marievllr-abg @ddeonghwva @rosie-hao @malyxsoulpersonal @kirooz @violetpenguinkris @woosmaid @eggyomelet @wooya1224 @mulanateez @kimi-kiwi @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @yourleftsock @dear-dreamie @uriruwi @purplelady85 @camzpetite @peachesandcream-9 @beautysirens @peachy-yabbay @seonghwaholic @honeyedtalisman @nichobins @fl0r4f4wn @avantalem @seojonneh @is4b3ll3s @ahhhhhhhhhghh

#ateez x reader #ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fantasy au #ateez fanfic #yandere ateez #yandere

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asexualbookbird · 5 months ago

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Immediately forgets everything that happened in June. Uh. I threw a tea party! Finished a knit hat! Did one (1) queer corvid piece! Started playing baldurs gate! Read some good books! SAW SOME SANDHILL CRANES!!!! Found new enrichment in the form of a new walking route! A busy busy month! Didn't read as much as I intended, but I did get to check off five more books on my Reading Books I Own chart so I call that a win.

The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakranorty ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- WHAT A FUN BOOK! "Adventure" is the perfect word for this. Yes, it's a trilogy with only one book out, but this also works so well on its own, as individual books SHOULD! It's its own little thing. Wrapped up neat and tidy with little threads to pick up in the future. I had so much fun and the audiobook was a DELIGHT, I want to read it again immediately.

The Novice by Taran Matharu ⭐- This has been sitting on my shelf since its release. It moved homes with me. It will not be doing so again. Bland, generic, poorly written. Proof just because you were an internet success, doesn't mean you don't need an editor. Also proof that publishing is about Luck and Connections. I know goodreads ratings mean Nothing, but come on. Why is this one so high. Did people really enjoy it that much? HOW??

Translation State by Ann Leckie ⭐⭐⭐⭐- Okay. Look. This was not my favorite Leckie novel. In fact it very well could by me least favorite Leckie novel. HOWEVER. Even then, it was still fun and enjoyable. I wish it ended differently, but I still loved all the characters and how they interact. I do want to reread this as well, because I remember enjoying Ancillary Justice more the second time around and I wonder if the same will happen here.

What Moves The Dead by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - A reread! To get ready for What Feasts At Night! Even knowing all the secrets, it's still a perfectly bite sized creepy read. My favorite thing about Kingfishers writing is how even with the darkest subjects she still manages to add humor. And it never seems out of place! It's a great breather for the reader but doesn't detract from the tension. Do not recommend reading this while walking through a field of bunnies.

What Feasts At Night by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I gave What Moves The Dead four stars at my initial read through, so I wonder if this will ALSO change to five stars upon rereading. I had to read the first few chapters twice for them to stick, and ended up switching to the audiobook which was very well done. I really didn't expect another book about Alex Easton, but I'm hooked now to be honest. I mean, stop putting this soldier in Situations, but also. I want to know what other Situations ka gets into. Angus and Miss Potter are adorable.

The library has a few summer reading games with prizes so my reading in the upcoming months will be influenced by those. Someone said there might even be a local bookstore gift package in the mix and I Want That. I do still want to do the Bone Season updated read, if for no other reason than to get rid of those books so I don't have to pack and move them. Other than that, no reading plans. I've read nearly every book that's on the shelf in my bedroom, which, wow, so it's getting harder to choose what to read. I guess that's a good thing! Leaves more room to reread old favorites.

#bookbird babbles #reading wrap up #monthly wrap up #june wrap up #books #booklr #i dont want to get rid of the bone season books bc theyre the og hardbacks with the GOOD covers #but honestly. i like the anniversary editions so much better #those white covers though......oof lmao #but like. if the book is Bad then who cares lmao #i could probably sell them tbh #i know theyre in high demand in the fandom #or were five years ago #i think the fandom has kind of given up bc it takes so long for each book to come out #and i mean. authors dont owe us anything and all that but.#girl.#ten years since book one released and youre not even halfway through your seven book series #....maybe you are #four books are out?#STILL YOU GET MY POINT #grrm behavior and that is NOT a compliment #anyway. it was an okay month #neighbors suck my health sucks the weather sucks #but the tea party fucked we killed that one #oh also i gave myself a terrible haircut the other night #chop chop!!!!!#my moms like why dont you just go to a professional and i said because im not paying 30$ for them to cut off two inches LMAO #stylists work hard but im broke thanks #ill suffer an uneven haircut for a while if it means i can do other things like buy a silly little boba #id like to dye it soon too and now that all the old blond is gone i should be safe lol

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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year ago

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“Caught in a web, drunk on love”

Shutara Senjumaru x Reader

wc : 3100

cw : not really unrequited love // jealousy // misunderstandings // a sprinkle of drama // fluffy floofs

well what can i say. she’s so mommy and i’m a hoe for mommies so i couldn’t help it. always wanted to write something for her but i was just needing that little push which obviously her bankai gave me 😩

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Spider. A creature you have never been too big of a fan of. Those creepy crawlers with their beady eyes and fuzzy limbs are, and will always be the genesis of your nightmares. Simply the idea of the word will forever have dread burgeoning within you and ice cascading down your spine, or so you have believed. Why, then, are flowers blooming inside your chest as you watch the bane of your existence weaving a web? In other words, you are atrociously, irreversibly, positively, and utterly fucked.

In the Soul King Palace, you are one of the less important guards under the direct command of one Shutara Senjumaru. Less important of course than the esteemed Royal Guards, but certainly on par with the strongest of shinigamis. Although there is no official title to it, your position beside your lady is an equivalent of a Lieutenant down in Seireitei.

Ever since the beginning, the divine general of the north, with her onyx hair and golden halo, eyes oozing with mesmerism, and lips a delightful red, but the most arresting of all, her spindly automatonic limbs sprouting from her back like six unworldly wings, has reminded you of a spider: one that is elegant and teeming with splendour. The lady’s introduction into your life has seeded in you a habit of conjuring up her face whenever you see or even think of your once-dreaded friends. In fact, when you think of an eight-legged crawler, you are rarely thinking of one and very much thinking of the six artificially limbed stunner. Hence, you are decisively fucked.

In pursuit of comfort, your hand, as if having a mind of its own, glide towards your waist where a knitted red charm dwells, the tassel of which dangles from the white sash of your uniform. Running delicate fingers along the intricate patterns of fine silk, your lips flourish into a smile.

From socks to scarfs and whatnots, your lady, the great weaver as her name suggests, has tailored many a thing for you. Not only has she remedied a great many holes in your battle worn uniforms, she has also graciously showered you with a miscellany of pristine garments. After all, artisanship is your lady’s forte, occurring as naturally as breathing to her, and her six hands are either sewing, knitting, embroidering or doing all three of it at the same time. She does it with such great finesse and dexterity that she may as well be carving a statue of herself out of your heart, for it worships the very ground she walks on.

When you notice her presence, you smell it before you hear it. Delightfully floral with a touch of dark undertones, heavenly, mysterious and so undoubtedly her.

“It was my understanding that you have a strong dislike for them, no?”

Comes the mesmerising lilt of her voice, glazed with a trickle of tease, and you smile a little, knowing smile, bringing your gaze from the spider to its human counterpart.

“I’ve steadily started finding them charming I’m afraid.” The little blossom of a smile on your lips once you search her eyes is that of softness. Your lady regards you coolly with a barely noticeable smile, drenched in enigma by her siren-eyed gaze, the caress of which is well-nigh tangible on your face. It does a quick travel to your waist, and upon finding the gift that you carry on your body since acquiring it, a hum spills forth a pair of bewitching, blood-red lips.

“Walk with me.”

You take the hand that she offers, smooth, spindly and rather ample in size that you are only truly able to grasp two of her lithe digits.

“With pleasure, my lady.”

“Am I allowed to wonder what exactly is the architect of your change in impression of arachnid? You of yore would flee the site if she so much as catches a glimpse of an itsy-bitsy one, I’m sure.”

You love that she remembers things about you the way you do things about her. She fancies her tea with a drizzle of honey. Not unlike a spider, she does have eight arms, the two of which are of her own flesh and blood, and because she keeps them hidden under her cloak at all times, only a handful of people have witnessed them. You have, during a visit to the hot spring in Kirinden. Nobody has given her a gift personally hand crafted by them, so when you have made for her a braided charm, a very clumsy attempt at that, she has told you that she would cherish it, and cherish it, she does. Despite it being faulty, it has found its forever home tucked safely in the red sash of her outfit, the tassel of it peeking out from under her haori with every elegant step she takes. Playful banter is her favourite pastime and it amuses her greatly that you indulge her. So once again, you do.

“You have every liberty to wonder, my lady. The decision to answer lies in my hand after all. I will say this though, it’s who rather than what.”

“My,” So she drawls in a tone that deliciously tickles your spine, and when she stops, you do too, watching as lips reveal teeth in a kittenish smile. “is that so?”

You have an inkling that to an extent, she knows of your fondness for her, evident in the way she humors you. Judging from her behaviors, she does not appear entirely opposed to it, and you might even go as far as saying that there is a good chance of her considering you should you confess.

Suddenly, a droplet touches your cheek. In the small interval of time that it takes for you to look up, your lady has expertly woven an umbrella out of thin air, all the while her one hand holds onto yours. By the time a drizzle escalates to a downpour, you are well under the protection of your lady’s masterful craft. However, your heart is going haywire, for the space between the two of you has considerably narrowed when your eyes meet. Leaning forward, a cool pad of a thumb presses a delicate kiss onto your cheek, caressing the wetness away from your face which inadvertently leaves a pink tinge in its wake.

“Let’s call it a day, shall we?”

At your nod of approval, she adjusts her hold on you, slipping her fingers just so that your hands are intertwined together. The tips of her robotic digits easily reach your wrist, and when the cool pad of her thumb gingerly traces the hummingbird flutter of your pulse, the little creature coos inside your ribcage.

Roses are red.

The sky is blue.

And oh how you love Senjumaru.

───────────────── · · · · ✿

“Yoohoo Shutara, look who I found dilly-dallying around!”

The guffaw of Hikifune jolts Senjumaru out of her bath induced reverie. Her head tilts, propped up by her fist, the dark waterfall of her hair swaying slightly as her eyes lazily search her friend.

Think of the devil and the devil is here.

A ghost of a smile graces her lips, for she finds you tucked under the arm of the ruler of grain. It has been a while after all since the two of you have spent time together.

“Can you please unhand me?” More laughter ensues, louder this time, and your request is effectively nipped in the bud. Ruffling your hair, she tugs you closer to the point that you are smothered by her generous bosoms.

“Lady Hikifune, you- you’re-”

Killing me with your breasts! You wanted to say, but instead, you are left a sputtering mess.

“My my, haven’t you bagged yourself a cutie, Shutara!”

Granted, Senjumaru would find the sweet strawberry shade on your cheeks ridiculously charming, that is, if it had been a product of her doing. Certainly not after you have just been called a cutie by a woman who has her breasts shoved into your face.

And so, she rises with all the grace of a nymph, droplets on her body twinkling like little diamonds in the soft light.

“Why Kirio, I thank you on behalf of my girl for escorting her to me,” Meanwhile, she has effortlessly drawn you into her arms, one of which is slithering across your waist. Alas, the little wasp has been caught in a spider’s web. “but if I do recall, you have matters to attend to, have you not? By all means, do not let us hinder you.”

“Ugh now my mood is spoiled, thank you very much Shutara.” The divine general of the south’s voice drips with sarcasm, and that of the north replies just as sarcastically. “Of course.”

“On another note, I smell ya later cutie!”

With a wink thrown towards your way, the cheery general is gone.

“Wild woman.” Murmurs Senjumaru as two fingers pinch the bridge of her nose.

You on the other hand, through the flimsy fabric of your robe, can feel her body pressing into your back; all the ridges and the valleys, every dip and dent, and lord is she so wonderfully soft.

Suddenly, along with a ghost of a breath on the shell of your ear, her voice greets you. “Hello there, my girl.” Like a dollop of butter on a pile of warm, fluffy pancakes, you melt, all giddy and toasty inside. “Now that you’re here, could I trouble you to give my hair a wash?”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’d be delighted to.” You do not dare turn lest your legs fail you, and in a desperate need of a moment of reprieve for your sorry little heart, you chance a glance at her. “Why don’t you go relax in the water, my lady. I’ll be right with you.”

There is a beat of silence before you feel hands on your hips and a delicate touch of lips on your nape.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.”

The milkiness of her skin practically glows in the warm water while her luscious mane, like the finest of silks, effortlessly slips through your fingers. The urge to bury your nose in her silky smooth strands is strong, but not as strong as the urge to nuzzle your face in the exquisite beauty of a neck that is captivating you from beneath those onyx mane. Lost in a daydream, you do not realise that you have paused amidst your task until your lady turns towards you. Without so much as a warning, she pulls you into the pool. The sorry excuse of a cloth on your body gives way to water, and you mirror your lady in that you are now thoroughly soaked and bare.

Her gaze roams, and you notice the exact moment that the warm mischievous glint in her eyes goes glacial. She has seen your body, or rather the marks peppered across your neck and chest in varying shades of red. Her face is unreadable, the very picture of aloofness, and although it stings, although it seems as if a chasm has suddenly appeared between the two of you, you try to bridge it, take a step, an olive branch of sorts. It is your darkest nightmare comes true however when she avoids the hand that reaches for her, a look of, dare you say, disgust etched onto her face, and without so much as a word, she takes leave.

What have you done wrong, you do not understand.

All you know is that you feel discarded as though you are but a stale meal.

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To have been branded by this enchantress of a woman and afterwards carry the very traces of herself on your body, even with a good chance that she will no longer have any recollection of your little moment together, has filled you with bliss as much as having her mouth on your flesh did.

Although her mien has betrayed nothing and she was the very picture of poise, you knew she was drunk as soon as endearments fell freely from her lips. “My darling sweetheart” so she has called you, and you have been too naive, too lovesick to believe that, albeit being under the influence of liquor, she has peppered you with kisses while thinking of you, while still being aware that it was on your body that she was leaving her traces. Alas, it has never crossed your mind that you would turn out to be a cheap substitute for the one she truly desires.

“Oi oi Lady Senjumaru has brought a girl to her palace.”

When you have heard such murmurs amongst the guards, as selfish as it is, you were hoping it to be a falsehood.

Your little glimmer of a hope is crushed into smithereens once you are summoned to her chambers only to have your heart join the pile of dust on the ground. Nestled in your lady’s arms like a baby bird, a naked girl mewls and trembles whilst red lips leave messy kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.

The spider is making a show of devouring its prey, but instead of fear, you fall victim to pain, oh wretched, unforgiving pain. She is being deliberately cruel because ultimately, you are an audience to this play only due to her invitation.

“My darling little sweetheart.” And you watch, drenched in melancholy, as your lady savours the lips of someone who is not you.

Oh.

“You.” Comes the voice, indifferent unlike the loving coo that was just uttered to the girl cradled close to her chest. “I want you to tidy up my place while I take my darling home.”

Oh.

A nod, or rather, a bow is all you can manage so as not to bare your features that is now marred with an endless cascade of tears.

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Peeved would be a horrible understatement. It does not bode well with Senjumaru that while you were all she could think about, you had been cosying up to another, who, for all she knows, could have been one of her friends. Judging from the little display the other day, it could very well have been Kirio. How laughable she must have appeared, being all overly defensive for naught.

She admits however that she was unnecessarily cruel with her reaction, and that her little act of revenge was childish at best. Essentially, she has only herself to blame, misinterpreting your innocent admiration for her to be something else, something sacred. And now, with that calloused display of hers, she might have even ruined the bond that the two of you have shared.

No matter how she reasons with herself, it still perturbs her after all, and once again, something ugly rears its head when she finds more of those lingering hickeys on your body while she crosses paths with you in Kirinden.

Good and evil play a tug of war, and evil emerges victorious.

“Back from another fun, I presume?”

“Why do you care?”

“My, what gives you the impression that I do? I’m merely curious which one of my comrades’ bed one of my guards is diligently warming every night.”

“Curiosity kills the cat, Lady Senjumaru.”

Rising out of the pool like a predator on a hunt, she corners her prey. Whereas her spindly arms manipulate you so that you are facing away from her and then, trap you against the wall, her two hands find home in the dip of your hips, pulling you until your back fits into the curve of her body.

“And oh does it pounce!” Growls the hunter as lips find your nape, teeth bestowing bruises and tongue soothing stings, all the while you shake like a leaf in her bodily confine.

Her hands wander over to your ribcage, holding you there, thumbing the soft underside of your breasts. It has your back curving into her body.

“Swift work is my biggest selling point, you understand. Do not underestimate the name of Senjumaru.” The sinking of her teeth directly into the throbbing vein on your neck triggers your fingers to dig into the flesh of her thigh. “Shu- ngh- Shutara.”

Senjumaru remembers a dream, an all too tantalising dream. In it, her charming little prey was deliciously caught in her web, and the great weaver has taken her sweet time savouring the delectable creature. What a divine little thing her prey was, squirming in her grasp and panting her name, ambrosia to her ears, while her mouth has mapped as many inches of skin as she could manage, committing everything to memory. It stays with her even when dawn breaks, except that, the dream she had was all but a dream, eluded Senjumaru.

Amidst her arm twining round your chest, she hears it, a broken little sound that is but a tiny whisper.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The lady turns you in her arms. With gentle fingers, she tucks a few wayward strands behind your ears to reveal more of her colourful works, which she gingerly traces with a delicate digit.

“These were my doing.” It is not a query, merely a statement.

“I understand that you have mistaken me for someone else.” You release a sigh, eyes slipping shut when a thumb presses onto a particularly sore spot. “So please, just let me be.”

“Is that what you want of me? To let you be?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Your attempt to flee from her gaze is effectively put to an end by a hand cradling your jaw. Mindlessly, a thumb bestows soft caresses to the apple of your cheek. “Answer me.”

“It just doesn’t, alright? Because I’m not- I’m not what you want.” When you look into her eyes, she finds in yours the first dew of tears, and before they could escalate into a cloudburst, she pulls you into her six-armed embrace, your face safely tucked into the nook of her neck. Along with a soft lingering press of a kiss atop your temple, she breathes her words into your skin. “Though I have a penchant for darning, it seems I’m superb at tearing the one thing I want perfectly weaved.”

“I hate you, my lady.” By the way your hands are fisting into her flesh as though your life depends on it, she begs to differ, though she only indulges you, a ghost of a smile hanging loosely on her lips. “Do you now?”

“Very much so. I hate that I love you.”

“Oh, but my dearest, how I love that you love me.”

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