#yandere Hunter X hunter
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yandere-daydreams · 1 month ago
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Screening: Dracula (1931).
Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).
Runtime: 1.8k.
TW: Implied Non/Con, Obsessive Behavior, Threats of Physical Violence, Slight Gore, and Mentions of Death.
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Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
You could feel his eyes burning into you from the other side of the abruptly-too-short table, the chill of the marble slab where it threatened to press into your midriff, but you did your best to ignore both. The table had already been set by the time you were called down to the dining room, a small army of silver platters arranged neatly in the space between you and him. You hadn’t eaten since the night before, but you weren’t hungry. Even if you had been, it was hard to imagine forcing yourself to choke down anything aside from your own anxiety. You were tempted to try your luck with the generously poured glass of wine to your left, but to drink it, you’d have to reach for it, and to reach for it, you’d have to lift your hands from where they were balled in your lap and you couldn’t do that because your hands wouldn’t stop fucking shak—
“Is the meal not to your tastes, dear?”
“It’s perfect,” you responded immediately, beaming. You grabbed the wine glass before you could hesitate, drinking as much as you could stand to. Chrollo’s ever-present grin had taken on a contented lull by the time you set it down. “Remind me to thank the chef before I leave. That is, if I ever actually manage to catch him.” And then, with a forced laugh, “That is, if this storm ever lets up long enough for me to get out of here.”
As if on cue, thunder clapped outside, followed shortly by a bolt of lightning bright enough to cast the dimly light dining room in a vibrant silver haze. You shrunk into your seat, but Chrollo’s dark eyes only seemed to brighten. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into a member of my staff, yet. It’s been… how long? Four days?” Six. Come midnight, you’d be celebrating your week-long anniversary. “I hope you don’t think I’m keeping anyone away from you deliberately. Not that I’d mind keeping you to myself.”
It took everything you had to smile rather than cringe, to laugh rather than bury your face in your hands and scream. A day ago, you would’ve found your host’s nonchalance charming, but it was hard to find someone charming when the thought of meeting his eyes made you feel physically sick. It was hard to believe you’d been so thankful when you first turned-up on the doorstep of his dark, empty countryside mansion, when you realized you wouldn’t be at the mercy of an ancient, self-isolating millionaire but a man around you own age who, as far as you could tell, was as flustered to see you as you were to need his help. You explained that your car broke down about half a mile down the road, and he invited you to spend the night before calling for help at a more reasonable hour. The typhoon had rolled in not long before sunrise, and, well…
Again, thunder crashed and rain pelted the mansion from all directions. This time, you flinched into your seat before you could stop yourself.
It was your own fault, honestly. It’s not like there weren’t signs that something was wrong. Chrollo was charming, but he was off-putting, too. He seemed to treat the concept of personal space as more of a suggestion as a rule, whether that meant seeking you out in the tightest corner of the mansion’s sprawling library just to share a sofa truly meant for, at most, one person or letting himself into your room at night as if he couldn’t tell the difference between two in the afternoon and two in the morning. He claimed to have a full staff, and yet, you’d never run into any maids, butlers or cooks – never saw anyone who wasn’t Chrollo. His clothes always seemed to be either strange or ill-fitting, like he was wearing items from someone else’s closet, and more damningly, he didn’t seem at all suspicious of you, the stranger he’d allowed to stay in his home for nearly a week, now. No offense was particularly jarring, but it should’ve added up. You should’ve noticed sooner.
The only thing you could do, you figured, was bid your time and sneak out in the early hours of the morning. The landlines were down and you didn’t have cell reception, but the next house couldn’t be that far away, and you doubted Chrollo would follow you into the storm. Or, you hoped he wouldn’t, at least. You couldn’t really do much more than that.
“So,” Chrollo went on, and you made a point of nodding and smiling like he’d just said the smartest thing you’d ever heard, “When did you find the bodies?”
Immediately, your expression fell. A second later, you noticed that your hands had stopped shaking, but only because you’d lost the ability to move entirely.
When you finally regained the will to speak, it was all you could do to spit out something pathetically noncommittal. “...I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“Don’t be shy. I promise, I’m not mad, just curious.” He paused, letting his eyes bore into you. “You left the door unlocked.”
Ah.
The basement door, to be more specific. Calling what you’d found ‘bodies’ might’ve been a little generous, too. What little had been left of each corpse was already so badly deteriorated that it would’ve been impossible to tell which detached hand might’ve belonged to what disembodied torso. That was probably your fault, too. If you’d known to be wary of Chrollo, you would’ve known better than to follow him into the one place he’d asked you not to go, the one place he seemed to always disappear to when he wasn’t breathing down your neck.
“This morning,” you admitted. “I was bored and looking for you. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing that it took me this long to realize you were a…”
You trailed off, but Chrollo was more than happy to finish in your stead. “A member of the Phantom Troupe?”
This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from buckling – your mouth falling open as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” And then, after burying your face in your hands, “I thought you were a fucking vampire, you goth prick.”
That was enough to earn an airy chuckle from Chrollo, any condescension hidden well underneath wry amusement. While you tried to recover, he went on. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you that I don’t actually live here. In truth, I only arrived a few hours before you did – long enough to dispose of the residents and staff, even if getting rid of their remains has been an…” For once, his eyes shifted away from you, skirting to the left. “An ongoing process.”
With a shallow sigh, he pushed himself to his feet rounding the table and falling into the chair closest to you. Dinner, if he’d ever had any interest in it at all, was thoroughly forgotten as he propped an arm on the edge and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not being more upfront. In a line of work like mine, it’s so rare to find an opportunity to play house.”
So, he was a thief. No, it was more than that – he was a world-class thief, with worse crimes under his belt than a handful of homicides and the wrongful imprisonment of one confused civilian. God. This was bad. You should’ve left earlier – as soon as you found the bodies. You should’ve never gotten out of your car at all.
Slowly, you straightened your back, keeping your arms crossed as you glared half-heartedly. “Are you going to let me leave?”
He hummed, drumming his fingers against his jaw. “Now, why would I go and do something like that?”
Your heart sank in your chest. “You’re going to kill me, then?”
“Now you’re just being hurtful.” It was uncanny, how little his demeanor changed prior and post to his confession. If anything, he seemed even more smug – like he was basking in your apparent terror. “As if I could be so wasteful. Besides, I was under the impression that you’ve been enjoying out time together.”
“And I was under the impression that you weren’t a serial killer!” You threw up your hands, agitation quickly overshadowing the worst of your nerves. “Things can change!”
“I suppose they can.” He was so frustratingly calm. If the memory of his dissected victims wasn’t burnt so deeply into your mind, you would’ve rolled your eyes. “And eventually, things will. You don’t think I plan to keep you trapped in this estate forever, do you?”
Rather than dwell on the implication, you moved on swiftly. “If you’re not going to hurt me, you can’t stop me from leaving. The storm can’t be more dangerous than spending another night with you.”
Somehow, his smile only seemed to grow that much wider. “Did you know that the majority of deaths related to natural disasters are from delayed attempts to evacuate? There are all sorts of threats – flooding, debris, sinkholes…” He brightened with each listed hazard, and you tried (and failed) not to picture yourself drowning in muddy rainwater. “Oh, and sickness, of course. Spend enough time in the rain and it won’t matter if you eventually find shelter – you’ll die of pneumonia in a matter of weeks.”
“You don’t know—”
“And, for the record, I said I wasn’t planning to kill you. You never asked about anything else.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry, but I sure you understand. It’d just be irresponsible to promise that I’ll never have to, say, dislocate your ankle to stop you from making a very brash, very unadvisable decision.”
“Like calling the cops.”
“Like trying to go outside in a very bad, very easily deadly storm,” he clarified. “You can contact anyone you’d like, but please, try to be considerate. I’m going to run out of room in the basement eventually.”
This time, when you melted into your seat, it wasn’t out of reflex or anxiety, but in a deliberate effort to put that much more distance between him and you. “I… I don’t want to get hurt, and I don’t want to die,” you admitted, taking longer than it should’ve to say something so glaringly obvious. “Tell me what I have to do to make that not happen.”
Yet another clap of thunder. This time, the lightning didn’t so much as tint his soulless eyes. “Straight to the point, as always. I like that about you.”
For the first time, he seemed to hesitate – a pink haze spreading over his pale cheeks as he reached out and laid his hand, almost gingerly, over yours. His trepidation was short-lived, though, only lasting up until the second you tried to pull away and he had an excuse to intertwine his fingers with yours, his grip tight enough to bruise.
“Why don’t we get to bed, darling?”  
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animeyanderelover · 5 months ago
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I've just recently finally gathered the courage to buy a horror manga from Junji Ito and I've gone for Tomie and now that I've actually started reading it, I just can't stop thinking about having a female s/o based on a similar concept. Someone who has the uncanny ability to make people obsessed with her if they spend enough time with her and who always regenerates no matter how cruel her deaths are by the hands of very same people who fell victims to her strange powers and claimed to adore her.
After years of enduring death and obsession in an never-ending cycle again and again, I can only imagine how jaded and morbid reader would be with everything. She has fully embraced her cursed existence at this point because there is literally nothing she can do about it so at this point she has turned it all into a game. Every time someone else falls for her, she's basically playing the 'what Yandere type are you going to be?' in her head as she has seen it all. She has seen the possessive, the obsessive, the delusional, the overprotective, the clingy, the submissive and dominant, the worshippers and the sadists.
Reader can only sit back and watch with a mixture of pity and amusement in her heart as her newest victim is molded into another obsessive freak that she will live with and indulge their every whim for as long until they snap and she will die yet another death at the hands of her supposed lover.
There are a few worlds where I think such a reader would be especially interesting to let loose (by the way, there are spoilers for Chainsaw Man if you are an anime only):
In Hunter x Hunter I have two headcannons for a Tomie reader. Either she has a Nen ability. Considering that her mere presence would twist and change everyone's emotions as well as considering her regeneration abilities and other things she can do with her body, she'd either be in possession of two nen types which would be Transmutation and Manipulation or she would be a Specialist
The headcannon I consider to be far more intriguing though would be if reader would be a humanoid creature who originated from the Dark Continent but somehow found her way to the Known World. Imagine the Hunter Association or the Known World Government finding out about your existence and hiring skilled Hunters and assassins to track you down and murder you before your abilities could cause any panic.
Imagine Chrollo and the Phantom Troupe catching wind of the situation that is currently being hidden from public. Chrollo, who would be instantly intrigued to track you down and see for himself what a creature from the Dark Continent is capable of and who would keep you as his most priced treasure the moment the troupe has finally found you after searching for you for a long time. Who has to share with the rest of the Phantom Troupe as your mere presence eventually gets to them too, to some sooner than to others and who notices your mild surprise that they actually work together insted of slaughtering each other, something you must be used to seeing. Chrollo, who shares with you experiences in the Known World and adores listening to your stories about the Dark Continent where you were born.
To make it even more interesting, let's assume that you are caught and kept around the time Hisoka has infiltrated the Troupe. Hisoka, the only member Chrollo doesn't trust to leave you alone and neither do any of the other members. There are usually at least two other spiders with you when Hisoka is around but the clown takes it with slightly infuriated amusement as he gives brief glances in your direction, patiently waiting for the day where he can keep you for himself. He has to give it to Chrollo after all, the man knew just how special you'd be when he decided to go after you. He can't wait to steal you away right under the nose of the criminal~
Another possible scenario would be that the Zoldyck Family is hired to hunt you down and capture you as they were informed that you are akin to an immortal being. Imagine Illumi spending months tracking you down and successfully capturing you, though that is only because you do not resist when he finds you, only to never hand you over to the government. Instead he keeps you, black eyes staring fascinated at you whenever he sees you, his cold skin tingling whenever he touches yours, his chest clenching with a sensation he can't quite grasp. He only knows one thing though. That he needs more of whatever it is he feels when he sees you and touches you.
I've already explored this world with a Tomie reader before in this post but Jujutsu Kaisen would literally be perfect because reader could literally be the enbodiment of the curse of obsession which could be used to explain her immortality. No matter how many times she is killed or even exorcised, she will be reborn for as long as people obsess over someone else, no matter how superficial or deep their feelings really are.
Suguru would be an interesting choice that I didn't talk about in the Hc's I linked since he uses Cursed Spirit Manipulation to control curses. The question would be though whether or not Suguru would be able to exorcise and consume you to enable him to gain control over you and summon you at any given time he wishes. Ironically enough a relationship with you in a scenario where you would be a curse would probably be better for you than if you were human since Suguru doesn't look down on you nor would he judge you for your nature as it is the negative emotions of humans from which you were created. You have shared with him some stories of the past where you were murdered from non-sorcerers when they lost control due to your powers and it only fawns his hatred against the monkeys. There are always sweet promises whispered into your ears that he'll never hurt you like they did and you can only wait half-interested whether or not he will remain true to those words.
We could also go way back in time to the Heian Era and simply crown you as the Queen of Curses who stood by Sukuna's side as obsession over someone else is as ancient as the concept of love in all its twisted and radiant forms itself. For a curse to be so strong that it can even influence other curses would stir Sukuna's interest, though he never expected to fall under your spell himself. He is somewhat displeased that his resistance is that weak as he has had multiple women warming his bed before he consumed them and enjoyed their flesh yet he knows that you are a being that will be reborn even if he kills you. Now that you have done it and seduced him though, he'd much rather have you pay the price for it. From now on you shall be his queen. When he is sealed away, you go into hiding. You feel no deep grief in the centuries that follow, though Sukuna has certainly been more memorable than the thousands of other people that follow him, one as bland as pathetic as the next one. It isn't until the 21st century that Sukuna is finally reincarnated into Yuji's body, thrilled and excited about this chance to finally live again. Now he only needs to find his Queen again...
As someone who just recently finished Chainsaw Man, in this universe the reader could just be a devil who has the form of a young woman. You'd probably also assume the role of the Obsession Devil in that scenario and whilst you could just be a wild devil, I think it'd be much more interesting if you actually work sort of together with the Devil Hunters without being locked away like some other devils are. It's rather rare for you to make contracts yourself even if multiple Devil Hunters have willingly offered limbs, senses and much more to you to form a contract with you as you only accept a contract if you are actually interested in a Devil Hunter. Instead you find yourself often negotiating with other devils to convince them to form contracts with Devil Hunters as your influence to make people infatuated with you even affects other devils.
Extreme femme fatale vibes and interesting scenario would be if it is Makima aka the Control Devil herself who is no exception to your abilities. What would make this so unique would simply be that Makima is, just like her devil suggests, someone who represents the fear of conquest and is a woman who is always in control, no matter the situation. That would so very much contrasts with the fear you represent since an obsession is rarely something that can be controlled and both of you are aware of her feelings she harbors for you. You have little capacity to care about people around you as years of living through the same events again and again have made you jaded towards the very idea of attachment and love but perhaps it is the uniqueness of the situation that perks your interest as she can tell that you are testing the waters with her. Are you willing to play the game with her? You should be prepared for the possible consequences if your answer is yes.
Kishibe is one of the few people who you have ever approached and asked for a contract as he caught your eye when he first joined and decades later he takes pride in the fact that he is the one you have held a contract with for the longest time. Your condition for a contract have always remained the same. The moment the Devil Hunter you were contracted to would stop being interesting to you, you wanted his heart and until that point, you would assist them whenever they desired your help. Some sane people would consider those conditions as nothing short of lunatic yet a Devil Hunter rarely survives if they do not belong to the crazy kind and the first time you approached him, he could already tell why you were as desired as you were by many Devil Hunters. Kishibe has survived for as long as he did precisely because he is a madman and that is why your interest in him hasn't faded to this day. You fulfill his every wish in this contract yet he has held himself back in comparison to some of your previous Devil Hunters, though some things are always the same. Like the few other Devil Hunters who had a contract with you, he proposed to you and it isn't the first wedding you went through yet it is the first time you have let a contract last as long to the point where both of you already had a silver wedding to celebrate 25 years of marriage. You're going to miss this one the most when his time comes...
In One Piece a reader with such mysterious abilities could of course be suspected of having eaten a Devil Fruit but I personally would like you to instead be an ancient being that, according to rumors, originated from somewhere in the New World, though nothing about you has ever been revealed. Throughout history, you have only gotten yourself involved a few times yet whenever you did, you were the demise of entire nations yet the full extent of your powers remains as shrouded in darkness as the rest of you. Only the highest-ranked people in the Marine and are even aware of your existence and the World Government has been after you ever since they were established. Not only are your powers frightening but it is also the knowledge that you hold that has made you the most dangerous being in the Grand Line.
You have watched history unfold in front of your eyes, know about the Ancient Weapons and other events that occured throughout time that no one is supposed to know, know even about the darkest secrets of the Navy and know exactly where the proof for their hidden atrocities lies that would ruin their reputation. Whilst the citizens on every island do not know of your existence, in the Grand Line exist tales of you that parents commonly tell children as bedtime stories where you are usually portrayed as a monster. You know of that but you do not care as an existence as long as yours has taught you best that you are not even remotely a human, though your appearance may fool others into thinking otherwise.
I'm not quite sure yet about individual characters in One Piece yet but since I just recently finished the Marineford Arc, I can't help but imagine that after essentially centuries of laying dormant and only being a silent watcher, you finally decide to take an active role when news of Fire Fist Ace's public execution reaches you. Your eyes and ears are everywhere, you always know what is happening in all different oceans after all, no matter how much the Navy may try to hide it from the rest of the world. Though the news of the execution are not kept as a secret this time and reach ears on every island throughout all of the seas. There are no heroic motives though as you make your way. You're just simply bored and decide that messing with the Marine, the pirates and all the people who will watch it all unfold might be amusing and provide some thrill, even if only temporary. The world is certainly going to shake when they find out that the monster from the fairy tale has always been there yet those who will be exposed to your aura on that day will probably go out of their way to chase you down, pushed by their ever-growing obsession. You do not mind. It has been way too long since you've been entertained by them after all. You're just hoping that at least a few of them will prove to be more than yet another waste of your time...
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after-witch · 8 months ago
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Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]
Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up. 
Word count: 17,510
Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse
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Thursday
Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away. 
A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs. 
They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life. 
It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.
Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.
Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season. 
The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.
The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.
The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.
Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner. 
That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.
It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.
Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.
Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes. 
And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New  York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’ 
Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.
It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.
It would have been terribly romantic. 
Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces. 
Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.
With people watching in mind,  you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running. 
Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.
You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?
But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.
Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?
He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.
What a creep. 
It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking. 
Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild. 
So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.
Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.
Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way. 
But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.
Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?
Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.
After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket. 
He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”
You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”
The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”
The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.
“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”
The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.
“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.” 
Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.
“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right? 
The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.
“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. 
Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway. 
You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.
Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he? 
And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark. 
Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another,  you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.
As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week. 
“I figured,” you say lightly enough.
He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”
You put your hands into your pockets and look around you. 
“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”
His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place.  “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”
You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.
“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.” 
Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.
But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested. 
“And what would you imagine for me?”
The question is unexpected. 
“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe? 
“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.” 
He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way. 
“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”
Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story. 
Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.
I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no. 
So you give it. 
At that, he finally smiles again.
“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
--
“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”
Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.
He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes. 
His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness. 
Jake Jensen died screaming.
--
Friday
You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night. 
The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.
“Hello again.”
Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.
“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”
But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?
Better to fill the silence again.
“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”
Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.” 
You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”
It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”
A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”
He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.
Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse. 
You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.
It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.
The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night. 
When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.
But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.
“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too. 
“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”
Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.” 
You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.
“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.” 
Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”
The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place. 
Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream. 
Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.
“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”
Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them. 
Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.
Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger. 
“There--look! Look!” 
Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.
But now--there’s no one there.
“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.
“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts. 
Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.
“You’re all right. I’m here.” 
He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”
The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand. 
Chrollo smiles. 
“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.
And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do? 
But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.
“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”
Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.
A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all. 
“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”
Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind. 
--
The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.
Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.
No one did.
Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me? 
The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.
This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth. 
Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.
The husband, like the wife, would be shared.
Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.
There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.
There would be enough to gorge.
--
Saturday:
Three people are dead. 
You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.
Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.
People die all the time. Sure. But…  dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd. 
Yet now, in one morning, there are three. 
Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.
And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.
“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.
“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”
Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.
Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.
If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?
Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.
It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.
And you’d be seeing him again tonight.
They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad. 
You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.
So.
You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight. 
And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--
What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?
--
You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days. 
There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).
You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date. 
Fuck. 
“Daydreaming again?” 
The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school. 
He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.
Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.
“Are you all right?” 
Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way. 
“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”
Chrollo hums.
“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.” 
Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”
Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news. 
“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.
“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”
You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.
“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”
For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game. 
You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.
Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.
You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”
“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival. 
The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes. 
You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.
“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.
But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”
Dear.
You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again. 
This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him? 
It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose. 
He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.
And he’s staring straight up at you.
You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!” 
And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.
Your goosebumps remain.
“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.
Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look. 
“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”
Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit. 
“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”
“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”
At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.
He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.
You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.
Things will be normal soon.
When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.
“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”
You don’t mind at all. 
“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”
Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you. 
“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.
Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights. 
“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.
“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”
“Clever,” he says. 
--
The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.
Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay. 
This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.
Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind. 
“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”
You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.
“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”
How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.
“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes. 
“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you. 
“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest. 
He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”
With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.
The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less. 
“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.
Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival. 
Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.
It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.
It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening. 
But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it? 
You ask him, this time. 
“Do you want to kiss me?” 
“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”
This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.
--
Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags. 
Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.
Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water. 
“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it.  “The waterfall adds a nice touch.” 
The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess. 
The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled. 
“It came highly recommended.” 
--
Sunday: The Final Day
Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.
Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex. 
You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.
But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room. 
Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--
But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.
Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand. 
Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in  your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note. 
Dear--
Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.
I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.
Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.
The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.
It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.
But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong.  That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.
But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.
It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.
Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.
Somehow, you don’t believe that.  You just know. 
Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--
And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?
Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all. 
--
You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused. 
Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t). 
Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.
It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that. 
Reality sucks sometimes.
You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural. 
You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.
Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.
Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.
“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.
Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.
“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify. 
You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.” 
Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.
“We don’t have to part, you know.”
It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”
Chrollo finally smiles at you. 
“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”
The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.
But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments. 
“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.
This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue. 
Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.
Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game. 
Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming. 
“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.” 
That would be nice.
“I’d like that.” 
And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.
If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.
--
The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all. 
What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?
The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.
All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.
Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face. 
“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.
Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?
“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.
He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--
It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--
“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?
When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.
“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.
You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.
“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”
“I am,” is all he says.
You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.
“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”
Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense. 
“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.
“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.” 
An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--
“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken. 
His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”
Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.
You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him. 
“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”
Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway.  You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.
You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--
“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?
But you take his hand anyway. 
“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.” 
His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.
This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach. 
“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd. 
Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust. 
“And miss the grand finale?”
You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--
“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do? 
He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving. 
--
Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.
Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.
You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.
You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t. 
Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…
All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms. 
And he’s looking right at you.
“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.
But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.
“What is it, love?” 
The nickname doesn’t even register.
“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?” 
Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police. 
“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.” 
“What do you…”
Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving. 
Your eyes dart over the crowd.
There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.
And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.
Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic. 
“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”
Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.
“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.
Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.
The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.
“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”
Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch. 
The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage. 
There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.
And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.
It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.
Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve. 
You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood. 
That’s not all he hit.  The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.
You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.
Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies. 
He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.
“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!” 
He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you. 
He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.
“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?” 
Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach. 
“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!” 
You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.
There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.
You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.
There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there. 
Standing in front of you.
Close enough to touch. 
Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.
He’s got fangs.
Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck. 
They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires. 
There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.
If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.
But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.
You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.
You had to hide.  But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.
Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.
It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.
The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.
You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years. 
The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you. 
No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away. 
You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:
He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.
You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.
Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason,  you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway. 
A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope. 
You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.
The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.
It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below. 
They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways. 
All of them have blood around their mouths. 
Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up. 
You don’t wake up.
Instead, you hear a metal clang.
Then another.
And another.
Someone is coming up the stairs.
Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.
The metal clangs again, and again, and again.
He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now. 
Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--
It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs. 
It’s Chrollo.
It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises. 
“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”
Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”
You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow. 
There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.
You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm. 
“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.
Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.
The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.
Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.
Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.
Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man. 
“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”
There were many things you might have said in this moment.  Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is: 
“Huh?”
And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers. 
Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material. 
In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all. 
When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while. 
He’s a vampire. 
“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically. 
You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.
He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.
In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.
He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.
When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.
Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy. 
“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?” 
The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.
And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.
“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin. 
At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.
“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.” 
Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--
“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.” 
Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts. 
Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.
“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest. 
“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.
The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.
Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--
He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole. 
You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.
When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s. 
“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.” 
He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”
Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him? 
And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.
“Like hell,” you mutter.
Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.
“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”
You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper. 
“Like. Hell.” 
The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered. 
But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.
You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.
You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire? 
You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground. 
Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.
Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not. 
Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this. 
Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.
It’s Chrollo who speaks.
“I would like an apology for your behavior.”
If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.
And he wants an apology?
You want him to go away. To not be real.
You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.
So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.
Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once. 
When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping. 
“F…fuck you.” 
Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood. 
Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:
“Want me to do it, boss?”
Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.
Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.
“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”
Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.
The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment. 
Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--
There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.
When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.
Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up. 
It’s not like you could run, anyway.
At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them. 
Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water. 
“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.” 
The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.
Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick. 
Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.
He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper. 
“Are you going to kill me now?”
Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.
“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.
“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”
He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.
“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy.  “Please. Please.”
His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous. 
He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”
Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t. 
“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”
You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely. 
You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes. 
And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand.  Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.
You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?
There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood. 
The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too? 
Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.
A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.
But what did you know about vampires, anyway? 
You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.
At least, you think, this is finally over. 
--
You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.
You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open. 
The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch  and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.
You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think. 
The world seems to come into more focus then.
You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.
Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.
How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?
Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood. 
You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.
Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.
Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.
“You’re finally awake, I see.”
You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run? 
Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”
Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.
“Where… are we?”
If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help. 
“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”
Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find? 
You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry. 
“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry. 
“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”
“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.” 
Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.
Eternity.
“Did you… am I… did you make me--” 
Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film. 
He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort. 
“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”
You shiver. From fear, and from cold.
Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.
“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?” 
You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.
He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness. 
“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you. 
And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down. 
It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up,  you find that you simply can’t make your body do it.  You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.
“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”
Love.
You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.
But neither do you.
Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this. 
The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down. 
It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world. 
Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference. 
1K notes · View notes
dilfartist · 3 months ago
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Just obsessed or love obsessed?
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Tw; Kidnapping, sensitive topics, Yandere behavior, Obsessive behavior, marriage mentions, abuse, physical abuse, mentions of Suicide on Yoosung’s part, mentions of death, NSFW on the end of Asmodeus’s part,
Which yanderes are actually in love with their darlings? Which yanderes simply obsess over their darlings?
Fandoms: Naruto, JJK, Demon Slayer, Death Note, JJBA, Chainsaw Man, Baruto, Obey Me, and Mystic Messenger.
Characters; Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Mahito, Toji, Geto, Sukuna, Douma, Tengen, Mitsuri, Akaza, Gyutaro, Muzan, Light Yagami, Chilchuck, Laios, Ascended Astarion, Dio, Kira Yoshikage, Jotaro, Josuke, Yoosung, Mammon, Asmodeus, and Denji.
Notes: {Most of these are just ramblings, sorry if they mirror each other in similarity. Not all characters from each show/movie will be on this list, just a few that came to mind.}
Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!
Somewhat proofread
Reader's description; Female/GN
Obsessed
These yanderes have no love for their obsession. Although they want you for romantic purposes, they could never love you. Most of these yanderes treat you like a pet rather than an actual lover.
Mahito
Mahito sees humans as toys. Humans are there for his entertainment. Their tears, their fear, their panic, and their crys are all for his pleasure. Mahito has only managed to love the suffering of human beings.
Mahito harbors no love for his darling. Sure, Mahito favors you compared to other humans and he doesn't outright kill you or torture you, but your relationship is more like a farmer favoring one of the farm animals he’s leading to the slaughter, so he allows it to live a little longer than the others.
If you were to ask him if he loved you since he’s gone out of his way to keep you to himself and demands romantic actions out of you; he’ll respond with a laugh, finding it laughable you’d assume so.
“Love you?” Mahito giggles, “You know, I was manifested by the strong emotions of humans, but love isn’t one of them. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite human!”
Sukuna
Sukuna was born evil, not giving two shits about the human race he once belonged to. Love, in the eyes of Sukuna, is a feeble emotion that only exists to continue giving humans a reason for their pitiful existence and to keep their kin cared for. Those who sing songs of romance irk Sukuna. As if the human race couldn't get more irritating. Though he will admit he enjoys a good lovers quarrel. The negative emotions that cause the birth of curses and the scenes of women and men plucking out the eyeballs of their lover's hidden sweetheart in an act of rage; never fails to give him a wicked laugh.
Lust. Lust is what Sukuna feels for you. Love is nowhere in sight. Any act of love you find yourself partaking in with Sukuna isn't because Sukuna desires loving contact, but because you loathe the thought of acting this way with him. He relishes in the resentment you feel towards him. Kisses, hugs, cute nicknames, and lingering touches in favor of disturbing you. Sukuna is obsessed with you due to your enjoyable reactions. Such a scared little thing, he thinks. In a world of humans Sukuna views as insects, you are Sukuna's shivering prized chihuahua.
If you were convinced Sukuna was in love with you and asked about it, he'd laugh in your face.
"Maggots, such as the human race, invented love to maintain relevancy and keep their young alive. What else are they good for if they can only birth a few babes before their bodies break. They might as well drop dead once production is no longer available. Unfortunately for all living creatures, they continue their life spans." Sukana speaks with distaste. He leans his cheek against his fist, gazing down at you from his throne. "I find the emotion despicable. Although.." Sukana begins, lips curling into a cruel smirk, "I could think differently if it came to you, my dear pet." You don't miss the flash of amusement in his ruby eyes at the sight of your grimace.
Douma
Douma will never love anyone. Douma is stated to have no emotions but that isn’t necessarily true. Douma can feel emotions for himself, it’s others he cannot feel emotions for. Douma may have claimed to feel love towards Shinobu but Douma wanted to feel something, or at least convince himself he felt something before the end of his life. Truly Douma could never love his darling even if he tried.
Contrary to popular belief Douma does treat his darling like he loves them...50% of the time. The other half of the time he acts on his sadistic nature.
He is one of the yanderes that will kill his darling with no hesitation if he needs to. Douma will hesitate if his obsession is strong enough to dissuade him. If his darling ever dies or somehow escapes then he’ll forget about them. In his eyes, you’re replaceable since you never were loved in the first place.
“You know, (Name), I think I’m actually in love with you!” Douma would smile down at you as you sat in his lap. “Can’t you hear it! My heart flutters at the sight of you!” he’d pushed your head to his chest, “Such an exquisite feeling.” he cooed at you, hugging you closer. You scowl knowing every word from his lips is a lie. You wonder which one of you he’s trying to convince.
Ascended Astarion
Astarion before the ascension would genuinely love his Darling. And if he didn’t he wouldn’t even be with his Darling. However, if his darling allowed him to go through his accession, all his love would vanish from his body. Once a vampire spawn becomes a true vampire, they become a shell of the person they used to be.
Astarion is no longer the person you once knew. In fact, he resembles his former master in ways. His spawns, his mean attitude, his view of other people as less. It’s a sicking sight, truly. He no longer treats you as an equal. You’re a pet to him, even if he says you are his consort.
You both know Astarion doesn’t love you anymore. Yet neither of you have said a thing about it. Astarion finds it rather amusing you think he could love someone as pathic as you. His old weaker self did and he won’t repeat any actions from the past. And still, he refuses to allow you to leave his side. His darling will be reassured but they know the love of their life is no longer around.
“I love you, my dear pet. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?” he’d chuckle darkly at you, his tone full of mockery. You wish his words were the truth, but they’re not.
Dio Brando
Even in normal circumstances, Dio wouldn’t be able to love. During his normal life, Dio only loved the pleasure he sought in hurting others. He forced himself to act like he loved Jonathan and George Joestar, but in reality, he was only using them for his advantage. Once he turned into a creature of the night, the was no way he’d be able to love. All of his humanity, including his human emotions had been erased.
Dio’s darling is merely for his entertainment; he does not yearn for a real connection. You’re simply a pet. He’ll care for your health so you won’t die, he’ll feed you well so you won’t starve, and he’ll even buy you nice things to keep you in line. Other than those few things, he could care less about you. He enjoys keeping you around because of your reactions. You’re just so human! It disgusts him and excites him at the same time.
“Poor dear,” Dio sang cruelly as he held you in his lap. “Shivering in my lap like a lamb awaiting for the slaughter.” he’d chuckle darkly after.
Kira Yoshikage
Yoshikage never loves any of his darlings. He takes without a second thought, caring not for the person that fuels his obsession. Yoshikage may take the time to learn about his victim but after some time your fate will be the same as any other darling. Depending on which stage of Yoshikage you get that is.
You could encounter a quick death if you met Yoshikage at the start of Dimond is unbreakable. He’d be interested then when he finds the right time to kill his darling and take their hand. If you come across Kira in the middle of Dimond is unbreakable then your death will come after a while. It depends if he likes your personality since during this stage he begins to prefer knowing a woman’s personality when taking their hand. If he meets you by the end of Dimond is unbreakable then you have the most probability of living. He’d be so concerned about keeping his identity a secret he might keep you around longer and settle with befriending you instead of outright killing you.
Kira really has no love for his darling. The only care he has for his darling is keeping their hands beautiful to fuel his obsession. Kira is less obsessed with his darling and more obsessed with their hands.
“Darling you must keep yourself clean,” he’d chid, pulling out a pack of wipes to desperately clean the dirt from underneath your beautiful fingernails.
Love-Obsessed
Both their feelings and obsession grow together as they come to know you. They love and are obsessed with you. These yanderes see their darling as actual partners and do love them, unlike the obsessed yanderes.
Naruto Uzumaki
Naruto loves you with all of his being. Growing up as a boy with no family and for a short while in his childhood no friends, he yearns for a real connection. He wants to love and be loved. So when you come into the picture, he swears no harm will come to you. Even if the leaf village is at stake.
Naruto does everything he can to please you because he believes you deserve everything good that comes to you. His generosity isn’t meant to be taken as a way to manipulate you, unlike some characters. Naruto strives to keep you happy. He’ll do everything he thinks will do right by you.
Naruto sees his darling as his partner in crime. His one and only. He refuses to look at anyone else. He’ll keep you safe even if it means keeping you locked away.
“I love you more than anything, you know,” Naruto whispers to you as he snuggles up to you. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, believe it.”
Denji
Denji’s been through a lot. No one has been there to love Denji for who he really is. Everyone loves Chainsaw Man...then there's him. All of a sudden you come into his life. Dissimilar Makima or any woman in his life, you care for him. You’re genuinely kind without expecting him to do something for you. His feelings grow for you due to your kind nature.
Being Chainsaw man comes with its cons. He’s always in danger and his loved ones are always in harm's way because of him. He grows paranoid. What would become of you once it was revealed he cares for you?! He manages to pull some strings and finds a place for the both of you to live together. Sure you can’t leave but at least your are safe! Plus, Denji is a great guy who gives you everything you want.
Denji doesn’t force you to care or love him, he implies wanting your tenderness but never forces you. He loves you. He goes as far as fighting every demon in your name.
“I like you...like a lot.” Denji starts off slowly. He’s at your side, crouching to your level. His eyes show vulnerability, “...you don’t have to like me back but I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. I wish things could be different...I really do.”
Yoosung Kim
Yoosung falls in love with his darling very quickly. Originally, Yoosung fell in love with the Mc in eleven days. Instead of his obsession and love growing together, Yoosung falls in love first then his obsession begins to grow. Though Yoosung is in love with his darling he still compares them to Rika despite his darling and Rika not sharing many qualities. He loves his darling for their kindness but also because they share the comfort Rika gave him.
Yoosung doesn't care if he puts his darling in harm's way despite claiming the opposite. Yoosung loves his darling enough to be in harms way along with him. In a way it’s like a romantic double suicide
“You’ll only talk to me, right?” he’d ask. Despite this question being sent through text you could hear the question asked in Yoosung’s voice. “I love you so much, do you really think some guy like Zen could compare?”
Mitsuri kanroji
Mitsuri is heavily encouraged by love in her daily life, so of course she’d be in love with her darling. Her darling completely takes over her mind, invading every thought she has. She doesn’t see her behavior as weird or obsessive. After all, isn’t it ideal for a lover to be utterly in love and devoted to their special someone?
Her obsession and love for you grow at the same pace. She’s so in love with her darling, every action she takes is in the name of her darling. She constantly reminds her darling of her love and devotion, not caring if her darling doesn’t reciprocate.
Her obsession is fueled by the constant rejection she’s faced in her life. She’s clingy, clingy to the point you feel suffocated. She needs her darling's reassurance and will be unsettled by her darling giving anyone else praise she deems too much.
“You’re so amazing!” she’d coo at you, latched onto your right arm, batting her lashes. “I’m so glad you’re mine, (Name).” she’d hum, pushing her face into your sleeve.
Sakura Haruno
She is a very dedicated person. Despite the lack of love she received from Sasuke, she stood by his side the entire time no matter what. When she loves, she loves hard. This also applies when she begins to obsess over her darling. Even if you don’t share her feelings she will never move on. Sakura is a very persistent person, and if she truly desires something then she’ll achieve it.
Her obsessiveness comes later on when she really gets to know you. Once the obsession starts, there’s no way of getting rid of her. Her love overpowers her obsession, which is worse.
If you thought Sakura being at your hip most of the time was annoying, then your hell is with Yandere Sakura. Sakura will never leave you alone. However, you have a savor named Tsunade. Sakura listens to Tsunade with out a doubt. However, Tsunade doesn’t really care for your situation. Sakura can be annoying but she doesn’t bring harm to you. So...not her circus, not her monkeys.
“Gosh,” she’d sigh dreamily as she lay against your chest, “I’m the luckiest girl in the village, aren’t I?”
Josuke Higashikata
The king of romance himself! Josuke loves his darling dearly. Even going as far as to think twice before hurting his darling if they dare insult his hairstyle. Unlike all the others on this list, Josuke would be in love with you first before the obsession would even begin.
Josuke never lets his darling forget his love and dedication towards them. He reminds them he loves them every chance he gets.
Josuke is more normal thanks to his genuine love for his darling. However, that won’t stop him from acting on his obsession. If his darling ever found out about his obsession and attempted to leave, he’d hesitate to
“Oh, these?” Josuke would look down at the bouquet in his hands. He’d rub the back of his neck with a grin, “Just wanted to get something for the lovely girl I call my girlfriend!”
Laois Touden
You are as important as Falin is to him. His mind is full of thoughts of you. Although Laois is obsessed with you, he treats you right. He never oversteps boundaries, always makes sure not to hurt or overwhelm you, and always listens to you and your needs. If it weren’t for his unhealthy obsession, Laios would be the best boyfriend.
Laios obsesses over his darling the same way he obsesses over monsters. Laios carries a notebook full of facts about you. What monster food do you prefer? Easy! You love boiled mimics! After all, Laious put it down in his note book and Laious is dedicated to being correct about his darling.
His love goes as far as locking away his darling; If necessary that is. He’d rather explore the word with his darling. He won’t repeat allowing someone so dear to him to be hurt again. Laios nearly lost his sister and he’ll be damned if you were ever harmed.
“I don’t think I say it enough,” Laios comments completely out of the blue. You and him sit at the breakfast table, still in your midnight clothes. Laios looks at you sweetly, his chin against his palm. “I love you.”
Obsessed to Love- obsessed
These yanderes start just obsessed with their darlings with either no feelings or ignoring their growing feelings. As time goes on, they begin to fall in love with their darling.
Toji Fushiguro
Toji finds it hard to love after his late wife’s passing. So when you come into his life he’s as distant as he can be. Toji’s rude and nasty to you. Not because he dislikes you- well, not fully anyway- but because Toji can sense his attraction towards you. It scares him; it Angers him even. Toji’s had his fair share of one-night stands, feeling nothing after them besides passing sentiments of guilt because of his late wife. However, you’re different. For some reason, the fuzzy feelings he felt with his late wife have come back when he’s around you. He loathes these feelings. In a way, Toji finds this as a betrayal, and he blames you.
However, as time progresses, Toji learns to allow you in. He can’t obsess over his late wife forever. At first, he’s simply obsessed with you. Always around you, you’re constantly on his mind, keeping a tracking device on you, the usual. Then it happens. You show him genuine kindness and show you care for his well-being and it’s like a switch flipped. Toji realizes he’s in love. And instead of getting angry or distancing himself, he accepts it. Unfortunately for you, Toji’s left broken by his ex-wife’s death and you’re the new love of his life.
You’re immediately kidnapped and taken away to live with him. The one person he loved died, he will not have that happen again. Toji knows he needs a stable life to keep you around and he refuses to use another woman for her money since he finds it disrespectful to you. Toji’s gambling habits cease nearly quickly. He works for the both of you to have a stable life because he love you enough to try. Toji never outright tells you he loves you, but you can tell in the ways he acts around you.
“I’ve gotta say, you’re the biggest pain in my ass.” Toji would grumble. You both lay on the couch together, him on the bottom while you lay ontop of him with a blanket wrapped around you. His hands fiddled with your hair, one of his quiet ways to show his love.
Akaza
At first, he felt like he was betraying his first love, Koyuki. Akaza distances himself because of the guilt that consumes him. He feels so weak, which pisses him off. And he can’t help but find himself getting angry at his darling as well since you caused this weak feeling to initiate. If it weren’t for his guilt at the onset Akaza would be categorized in the love-obsessed category. Once he learns to move on and realize his feelings will not be leaving any time, then he’d be loving towards his darling.
Immediately, His darling is kidnapped. Akaza has learned from his past to always be near his loved ones; his darling wouldn’t suffer the same fate because of his carelessness. He’d keep them in a nice house deep in the forest. Akaza remembers every part of the forest just in case you attempted to run away. The house would be nice and furnished and his darling could request items to be placed into the house. It’s more of a house for his darling than a shared house.
Very loving towards his darling. If it weren’t for the circumstances, Akaza and his darling's relationship would be seen as the ideal romantic relationship. Akaza didn’t want his darling to be taken away, he’d much rather have his darling willingly. However, his trauma and immortality dissuade him.
“You’re so beautiful...” Akaza would murmur to you. You watched in the mirror as the demon brought your hairbrush back to your hair, gently going through the strands. “So beautiful, my love.” he’d press a small kiss on your shoulder blade.
Jotaro Kujo
Jotaro already has too many problems to worry about romance. Jotaro’s obsession disturbed him. He has other priorities such as saving the world from enemy stand users, yet he often finds himself thinking about you rather than the problem at hand. It becomes a problem for him. There’s even a point where he becomes annoyed by your name alone. However, as time goes on he learns to accept his feelings of obsession. Then he’ll have to accept the romantic feelings that soon follow after he accepts his obsession.
A while back, I wrote Jotaro as a yandere that would hold you captive and overall be very intimidating towards his darling. Now that I look at his character, he’s more likely to act regularly with his darling. Jotaro will come off the same as any man who has a healthy relationship with their significant other. The only reason he’d become intimidating towards his darling is because they’re trying to leave him. No matter how obsessed jotaro finds himself, he ultimately won’t force his darling by his side. Jotaro recognizes the danger he puts his darling in when they date, he realizes how selfish he is just being near you. Jotaro genuinely loves his darling, so although he does try to intimidate his darling into staying with him, he would allow you to leave if that’s what you truly wanted.
Jotaro is the type of Yandere to allow you to leave but have you on his mind ever since. There are memorabilia of yours around his house. Pictures hang upon his walls that he hasn’t bothered to take down. There’s even a framed picture of you right next to his bed.
Tengen Uzui + Wives
The Uzuis would be off put by their darling at first. Despite it traditionally being on the man’s part to decide if he wants to marry another wife, Tengen puts his wife's decisions above his. Tengen isn’t the type to simply marry someone because of a little crush or obsession. One, he needs to feel strong feelings towards someone before he considers putting a ring on it. Two, Tengen respects his wives too much to decide marriage on his own. Tengen would introduce the topic and his darling to his wives slowly, giving them a little time to decide whether to feed his obsession or not. Ultimately, Tengen gets their blessings.
Their obsessions don’t blossom until marriage. Ideally, their darling is not as strong as them. They become very protective of them, especially Tengen if this is after he retires. Time passes and they all grow to love their darling, they’re obsession turns into a love obsession. Each one of them won’t keep their hands off their darling. They are in general very touchy with each other, but with their darling, it’s times 100.
At least one of them has to accompany you. Not only to keep you safe but to make sure you never think of leaving them. They don’t mind kidnapping their darling if they need to.
“Don’t splash around so much,” Tengen complained to his other wives. They all sat in the bathtub, cleaning each other. You sat firmly in Tengen’s lap. “Stop hogging cleaning them, Suma!” Makio barks at Suma. “I am not! Lord Tengen! Makio is trying to say I’m hogging the sponge, but I’m not!” Suma whines. They were taking turns washing your body, whilst Hinatsuru washed your hair. Tengen presses a small kiss on the back of your head.
Asmodeus
When Asmodeus first met his darling he only saw them as someone he could seduce for a moment of pleasure. It isn’t until he makes a pact with his darling that his obsession begins. Sure, Solomon also has a pact with Asmodeus and he’s not obsessed with him. You’re different. You help him with problems and spend time with him. And such a cutie you are you do it no questions asked. The obsession sets in when he manages to sleep with you. It was like your body was crafted for him. It’s addicting really. Your taste, your touch, your sweet voice! He’s even considered never touching another again.
He’ll stick around you more which leads to a connection between you...or maybe just in Asmodeus’s eyes. Love, an emotion he’s only been able to share with his brothers, will develop in the time shared with you. You’ve surprised him again! Asmodueus will grow into a possessive person. Not even his brothers will have the fortune of spending time with you. Asmodeus becomes harsh with his brothers, like a cat hissing at other cats for being too close to their owner. Lucifer has to step in ever so often because Asmodeus is close to ripping out one of another demon’s eyes with his claws because they got too friendly with you.
Don’t think you can just leave him either; That isn’t an option whether it be due to your exchange coming to an end or you not wanting a relationship anymore. It just won’t happen. If you have to go back to the human world, that just won’t slide with Asmodeus. He’ll find a way to be with you. If Lucifer doesn't appeal to any of Asmodeus’s requests to keep you in Devil Dom, then he has no problem going with you. Nor does he have a problem possessing random people to see you every day. Now, ending the relationship with Asmodeus will lead to a moment of pain. A moment of pain because there is no way you’d be apart for more than a couple of months. His brothers won’t force you to be in Asmodeus’s arms nor will they stop talking to you until you give in to dating Amsodeus again, they care for you as much as they care for their brother. Nonetheless, you will have earfuls of them trying to convince you to be with Asmodeus again. Not to mention every demon in Devil Dom has been in your DMs on Devilgram. All of his adoring fans call you every name under the sun. No matter how tough your skin is their words will get to you. They even began to spread hate against humans which got the attention of both Lucifer and Diavalo. Now you’re having a conference with them, where you simply decide to go back to him. It’s better for everyone.
“Don’t you feel so much better~” Asmodeus coos to you, his fingers deep inside your cunt. “No one can make you feel as good as I can!” Asmodeus presses a trail of kisses down your neck, “No one could love you as much as i do.”
Mammon
When you first met, Mammon only saw you as an annoying human. Another task on his list that his brother put on him. Then he began to get to know you and that view quickly faded. Unlike other yanderes, Mammon fell in love quickly compared to the others. Suddenly, Mammon was proud to be your first man. So proud in fact that many reconsider his sin being greed.
Though greed is definitely his sin. He’s so greedy he won’t allow his family to take your time away from him. Mammon nearly snarls like a rabid dog at the thought of anyone stealing you away from him. If it’s his brothers then he won't have as much of a problem, he’ll complain but won’t harm them. Let another demon try the same and he won’t care if he breaks a few bones. Not even caring for Lucifer’s chiding.
His love is apparent. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, overshadowing his tough-guy act. You won’t even mind his obsession because his love delays any concerns that arise because of his actions.
“I’m your first man, so I should be your most important priority,” Mammon huffs clinging to your waist tightly. You scheduled a lunch with his brothers due to Mammon taking up your time, now you think you should cancel it. Mammon shows no sign of letting go any time soon and it’s getting harder to breath.
Chilchuck Tims
There would be no way in hell Chilchuck would allow himself to fall in love or even think of any romantic thoughts of his darling, at first. After his wife left him and took away his children, leaving him alone, he couldn’t bear the thought of another romantic relationship. His obsession starts slowly because he distances himself since he can tell he feels attracted to you.
He hates the fact he often has dreams of you or the fact he remembers your favorite foods. He especially hates it when he gets a foreign fuzzy feeling in his chest when it comes to you. He’s often rude and closed off to his darling. He comes off meaner to his darling than anyone else. It has gotten to the point the others often call him out on his behavior to which he scoffs and turns away.
It isn’t till he learns that not everyone will leave him and he can learn to be a better partner Chilchuck opens himself to being romantic with his darling. He grows to love his darling so dearly. He writes to his daughters about his darling. Even goes as far as mentioning them every chance he has to his companions.
And although he’s finally going through the process of learning to forgive himself for his divorce, he’s still paranoid. If you show any signs of leaving him, he won’t immediately lock you away but he’ll become uncharacteristically clingy. Every hour he’s snuggling closer to you, asking about your day. He even begins to stop complaining about small things you do that annoy him at times. If you are attempting to leave him, good luck. That isn’t happening. Besides Chilchuck’s small size, he’s incredibly smart when it comes to dire situations. Such as you leaving.
“I...I love you.” Chilchuck admits, his face has an expression of the first taste of sour candy. It’s almost as if the words stung the tip of his tongue each time he spoke.
Gyutaro
You’re interesting to him. Whether you’re ugly or pretty, Gyutaro envies you. Those who are attractive get to live happily without the misery of being ugly. It makes him sick. You are treated better than he was that’s for sure. But as he comes to know how kind you are to others, especially the less fortunate, he begins to obsess over you. You’re so beautiful, much more attractive than him anyway. How could he not think of you.
Gyutaro learns more about you by stalking you. He’s always around, going as far as to hide in the dark of your room in the mornings just to get more of you. Gyutaro never thought about marriage as a mortal, he was too caught up in caring for his sister and many girls never even glanced his way when it came to romance. You change his mind. He can imagine you in a beautiful wedding dress as you profess your love to him not even cringing at his ugliness.
He genuinely loves his darling. Gyutaro wishes he could have met his darling when he was a mortal, his life wouldn’t have been so depressing, and he could have even tried to find a better occupation and live a normal life with you. He’s selfish, after all, he’s faced so many hardships, why can’t he take the few things that bring him joy? No one else deserves you. Once you’ve lost your beauty, you’re better off dead than in the hands of others.
“So beautiful...gahahaha!” Gyutaro laughed manically to himself. He sat in the corner watching you closely, his hand covering his wide smile. “No one else could compare!”
Possibly love-obsessed (unsure)
These yanderes could either love their darling and never admit it or not love them at all. It depends on the situation or stage of the relationship.
Suguru Geto
(Only Non-Sorcerer Darling)
Geto believes that he could never love a Non-Sorcerer yet has an obsession with his darling. Geto felt the need to dehumanize the Human race since his change in ideology to cease any doubts he may have about his decisions. There may be a part of him deep down that isn’t fond of the idea of hurting Non-sorcerers but is too far gone to even think about ending what he started. Geto strives to protect the weak. When he was in high school he believed that the weak were Non-Sorcerers until his perspective changed to Sorcerers being the weak ones due to the Non-Sorcerers being in charge and harming the ones keeping them safe from curses. He found the acts of Non-Sorcerers to be unforgivable which is why he went to the extreme of choosing to start a genocide.
There is a part of him that despises his darling. How could some random monkey make him feel this way? It’s perplexing. Sometimes he wants to gouge out your throat and watch as the light fades from your eyes to give him the pleasure of his original ideology: All Non-Sorcerers should be terminated. Yet he cannot bring himself to put the plan into action. Especially when you’ve been such a good pet and listen to his every command. He won’t admit that he craves to be around you. He loves holding you tight as you both drift to sleep, he loves the sweet kisses that he forces out of you, and he loves the way you moan out his name. A filthy monkey shouldn’t have the pleasures of indulging in his greatness, yet he refuses to kill his darling.
Even Geto doesn’t know if he loves his darling. He’s adamant he only sees his darling as his pet, but deep down he might love his darling. Though that would never come to light.
“You’re a good pet. Always listening and obeying my commands.” Geto comments as he reads his daily newspapers. You brush his hair quietly, focusing on the raven strands gently pulled by the bristles of the brush. “Good. Just as all monkeys should.”
Sasuke Uchiha
It isn’t that Sasuke is incapable of loving because he definitely loves the people in his life. However, he is too emotionally immature to truly love his darling. He yearns for their touch and love but he can’t for the life of him reciprocate the affection.
Sasuke has forgotten the feeling of love since It had been ripped away from him at such a young age. He assumes his love for things in his life is just extreme liking them. Sasuke extremely likes tomatoes and Sasuke extremely likes talking walks but the word love never seems to come to mind. If anything he just won't admit it to himself. He can love.
It won’t be until when Baruto begins that Sasuke is finally classified as Love-obsessed. He’s more truthful to others and himself. He can finally admit he’s in love with his darling...to himself. In Baruto, Sasuke is more open to being vulnerable around his loved ones and even tries his best to repair relationships with advice from Kakashi.
“I care about you...” Sasuke would say, not daring to look you in the eyes. “...a lot,” he adds in awkwardly.
Light yagami
Many believe Light to have no love for anyone, for whatever reason. However, this is not the case. Light's love for his family is one of the main reasons he decides to become Kira. Or what he believes to be justice. Light started out wanting to be a cop because his father was a cop and Light wanted to bring justice to the world. Light wants the world filled with good and his family surrounded by good instead of unjustified evil. The reason he’s so cruel to Misa and even uses her to his advantage is that he never shared these feelings in the first place. Misa forced him into a relationship with her and didn’t seem to mind him not wanting it. He’s very different with his darling.
I put him on this list because there are two ways Kira could feel about his darling. One, he’d be obsessed with them but wouldn’t love them. This would happen if they were involved in the Kira case and Light would obsess over them because of it. Two, his darling is a random citizen who shares his feelings and judgment, and Light loves his darling dearly.
Even if Light truly cares for you, he won't admit it because of his focus on the Kira case.
Muzan kibutsuji
For Muzan to care about his Darling, they would have to have certain qualifications. One, they knew of Muzan before he transitioned into the first demon. Two they either could relate to Muzan’s past as a human or they didn’t have any judgment towards Muzan because of his sickly appearance. These are a few situations that would lead to Muzan's obsession. Once Muzan turned he had past wives who killed themselves because of his cruelness. Muzan had no feelings toward them which is why Muzan would be more likely to love or care about his darling if he had known them before his change.
If Muzan’s darling had none of these traits then Muzan would be purely obsessed with his darling. Muzan would need a connection with his darling. There is a slim chance his darling could win over his true affection, but the chance of it happening is nearly impossible.
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veilofaponia · 3 months ago
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Chrollo, ever the reading fanatic, has discovered a way to rope you into the activity.
he’ll run his fingers over the covers on the shelves, ultimately opting for the original version of some outdated book written in the 18th century.
you might already be reading your own book on the far too expensive couch, but he simply plucks it out of your hands and sets it away. protesting how bored you’ll be with no material will just be met with his offer to join him instead. his smile falters for a split second when you give him a disgusted expression and get up to start walking away (it’s a shame he always recovers so quickly, it’s a real joy to see him unhappy).
instead of letting you leave like a normal person would, he just grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into his lap, so quickly you can barely process it.
his arm wraps around your waist, effectively keeping you in place, while his other holds the book. you can complain and claw at said arm all you want, but his grip won’t ease.
rather, he begins to read the words written on the pages aloud to you. his chest rumbles against your back with every word he reads while his cologne invades your senses. you eventually decide it’s best to let him get this over with. it might be your ears deceiving you, but you can almost swear he sounds happier when you stop struggling.
a fond expression will appear on his face should you happen to fall asleep in this position. he assumes his calm voice must’ve lulled you to sleep, when in reality the book was so boring that slumber was preferable to hearing the contents any longer.
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uvobreakmylegs · 4 months ago
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The Long Route
Shalnark x female!reader
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Warnings: stalking, creepy behavior, voyeurism, mentions of potential kidnapping, Shalnark abusing his ability
Word Count: 5.3k
At seven in the morning on a Wednesday, most people were still waking up, some trying to ignore the rays of the sun that peeked through the windows while others would be getting up reluctantly. As such, most people weren't out yet, leaving the streets free of the traffic for a short while. Even being at the height of summer, the early hour had the temperature outside being a moderate one, best described as tolerable bordering on being just okay, though that would change for the worse once the sun rose higher in the sky, causing most to head indoors to find relief in the AC units that worked overtime.
But for now, the temperature was fine and the mood was quiet.
Fifteen minutes after seven o'clock, Shalnark walked through a largely empty parking lot before he entered through the double glass doors of the local gym. Going through a second set of doors brought him to the inside of the building, which was just as empty as it had been outside. Few people wanted to be up this early, and fewer still felt inclined to go work out if they did happen to be awake. The people who would go out at this hour were mostly the ones who couldn't make a gym visit fit into their schedule in any other way or they wanted to have less company with them while they worked out.
Shalnark didn't consider himself to be part of either group. In all honesty, he would have much preferred sleeping in. Already, he could feel a yawn coming on as a result of another night where he'd gone to bed far too late to be up and about this early, but he kept himself from letting it out. As much as he wished he was back in bed, he wasn't here for his own sake.
The manipulator smiled as he greeted the lone employee who sat at the desk not far from the entrance. The employee in question remained stone faced as he walked past, not bothering to give a greeting in return or even fake being friendly at the sight of the blonde man. Shalnark didn't comment on it and the smile stayed on his face as he headed off towards the men's locker room.
He was pretty used to that particular employee's lukewarm reception to him, and since he had never cared about the way other people viewed him, he wasn't about to start that now for someone who was ultimately insignificant to him.
After leaving his things in the locker room and heading up the stairs to the jogging track that overlooked the work out area below, Shalnark took the time to stretch out as he looked at who else had arrived by now.
Four people were working out on the machines. More than normal, he noted, as the number usually tended to be two or less.
At least no one else was on the jogging track. Despite not coming this early to have the place to himself, it was nice to not need to worry about anyone else being in his general vicinity.
And while it was unlikely that anyone would notice or even care, it was just as nice to not take the risk that anyone might see the glances Shalnark would take out the long window that overlooked the indoor pool. The people below him never paid enough attention to see what he was doing, but anyone closer might take note of the way he watched the pool. Or rather, the person who was almost always in the pool at this time of morning.
Speaking of….
He'd already begun his jog, keeping his pace moderate and doing his best to keep himself from rushing to the window. Act normal and keep your head facing forward. He was used to it. As he rounded the corner and came to the window, he eagerly glanced to the side and smiled to himself.
You were there, as expected, swimming at the center of the pool. And once again the early hour resulted in you having the entire stretch of light blue water to yourself as you made your way toward one end of the pool. Once you reached it, you would turn and swim to the opposite and repeat the process once you reached that wall.
By no means were you a professional swimmer, nor were you trying to be one. You swam at your leisure through the water, not at all interested in even trying to swim the length of the pool the way the professional athletes would. You swam because you liked it, and you were often lost in your own thoughts as you went back and forth as you enjoyed the feel of the water.
He reached the end of the window just as you reached the end of the pool, and he was able to catch a glimpse of you turning around in the water before you were out of his sight completely. As usual, the time he had to look at you ended far too quick for his liking, and he returned his attention to what was in front of him as he continued his pace while he made his way around the track, eager to get another look at you once he reached the window a second time.
As much as he disliked how sudden his viewing of you would end, the anticipation of seeing you again spurred him as he went around the track. Though he made sure to keep his pace the same. As unlikely as it was, if there did happen to be anyone watching him, it would look weird if he always slowed down at the window and then sped up after.
You were closer to the opposite end of the pool when he saw you again, still going at that same leisurely pace. Your hair was wet, he noted. At some point you had dunked yourself under the water completely as he knew you were compelled to since you felt it would be strange if you entered the water and didn't go under at least once. It was an odd quirk of yours and you didn't even know why you felt the need to do so.
One could say that your need to come out at this time of day to swim was another quirk of yours. But unlike the first one, you and Shalnark were both aware why you came out so early.
It came down to an aversion to other people in public pools, many of them not having a sense of personal space, as well as you not trusting others to have clean habits while sharing the water with you. Your concern was largely children who didn't know any better, though there had been a few adults who had annoyed you enough that you never wanted to be in the water with them again. But the lack of other people and the fact that the pools were cleaned every night had the early hour of seven being the perfect time for you to go.
Maybe it was because of his own upbringing and the fact that he'd seen plenty of unpleasant things both in his youth and as an adult, but Shalnark felt that was a silly reason to go so far to avoid others. It made you seem a rather picky.
A little bit of pickiness was no big deal, though.
You were swimming towards the middle of the pool again before you were out of sight, and Shalnark again brought his gaze back in front of him. Another lap around the track before he would see you again.
And when he did see you again, you were no longer going back and forth in the pool, now hanging about in the middle as you floated on your back, your face and a majority of your chest sticking out of the water as you stared above you.
It was during times like these that he wished he could sneakily take a photo of you. But even if he were to be quick about it, that was likely to draw too much attention. The manipulator just needed to appreciate the image of you that was burning itself into his mind.
That was a new swimsuit, he noted. A light green one piece suit decorated with pink stripes, and from what he had been able to see when you were swimming earlier, the suit dipped down low in the back.
The colors were nice on you, he felt. And you looked cute in it. Though Shalnark would be hard pressed to criticize you in any of the suits he had seen you in previously. Any piece of clothing that had the fabric hugging so tightly around your body was one he was happy to see you in, but he did have to say that it was a shame you no longer wore two piece suits.
Although, it was his fault that you didn't wear them anymore.
His mind went back to that incident as he came to the end of the window, and with you out of sight, he thought of how he had almost managed to ruin this experience of yours completely.
When he first started following you and learned of the outings you took every Wednesday morning, Shalnark hadn't bothered with taking advantage of the jogging track to watch you at first. It had seemed smarter and less of a hassle to take control of one of the lifeguards while he watched you in private. You wouldn't question why one of them would be watching you, after all. That was literally their job.
Only he hadn't realized what would happen after he used Black Voice to take over that lifeguard; that having them watch over you, the object of his affections, would cause them to smile at you while Shalnark watched through their eyes.
It was an oddity of nen, no doubt. Something he hadn't been aware of because he'd never had such feelings for anyone until he saw you. How could he have known that would happen when he'd never encountered that issue before?
So for three different mornings, Shalnark was puzzled at the way you kept giving the lifeguard nervous glances while you tried to enjoy your swim, while all you could see was that lifeguard leering at you. On that third day you had clearly had enough as you got out of the pool much earlier than usual to complain to the management, and the lifeguard in question had been fired shortly after.
That had been an interesting thing to learn about his own ability, and Shalnark would have been more fascinated by it initially if he hadn't been so worried that you were going to stop this bit of your routine. The week after that incident you didn't come in, and he wondered if you wouldn't be back at all.
It was a nice surprise when, a few weeks after, he saw you head out for the gym before seven, your typical swim gear in hand.
But from then on it was one piece suits only.
That was too bad, but maybe in the future he convince you to wear them again. Maybe for him.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
He came around to the window again and his eyes once more darted to the side. You were still floating in the middle of the pool, still staring up at the ceiling.
What were you thinking about?
He wished he could ask. It would've been nice to go down and talk to you. Unfortunately his spider tattoo meant that wasn't a good idea as he would be bringing some risk to himself if he were to go out there shirtless. And even if he didn't have that problem, he was aware you might not appreciate someone trying to chat you up while you were in a space where you wanted as little company as possible. While you wouldn't complain about one or two others who might happen to be in the pool with you, you didn't want conversation.
Was it really that fun to swim around like that with no one else to interact with?
Evidently you thought so.
As the window ended and he lost sight of you again, Shalnark still felt that the effort you made to be alone in a public place made you picky. But still, no one was perfect. And after so much time watching you, Shalnark had grown fond of your quirks.
If anything, he found that they made you cuter.
Over the next hour, Shalnark watched you as you swam about, sometimes going back from swimming from one end of the pool to the next, sometimes dipping back beneath the water completely, staying under for a few moments before you rose back up and keeping your eyes shut as you brushed the hair out of your face.
And other times you were just floating. Even with the distance between you two Shalnark could see that your gaze was unfocused as you were more concerned with your own thoughts, and once more he wished he could know what was going through that head of yours.
Maybe at some point, you would tell him.
Not now, or anytime soon, but at some point in the future, when you would know him long enough to trust him.
That would be nice.
It was a little bit after the hour mark had passed that there were others coming into the indoor pool as well, setting up their towels on the long white chairs as they chatted with one another. Not too many, but a sign of what was to come. And as was usual during this time, you began to make your way out of the pool, swimming over to the shallow end before you were able to walk out, the water dripping off of you as you headed for the chair where you had left your towel.
Shalnark took that as his cue to leave as well, going around the track one last time and then making his way back to the door that led out into the halls.
But before he did that….
He glanced down at the people who were working out. Two of them had left since he had started, and the other two looking as though they were beginning to wind down. Though neither of the two who remained were women.
Shalnark frowned, feeling slightly disappointed. Ah well. He couldn't get lucky with that every day.
He was just about to leave the room when he heard the door beneath him open, and he paused for a moment, waiting to see who had entered.
It was a woman.
Within an instant he had one of his needles in hand, and with a flick of his wrist it was embedded into the woman's neck.
The woman stiffened for only a moment before Shalnark took over, his phone already pulled up to his face as he began to input his instructions. Just like that, the woman was continuing like nothing had happened, turning around and leaving the room she had just entered. With a click of a button he had her remove the tie she had put her hair in, letting it flow freely and hiding the needle in her neck.
In the time it took her to reach the women's locker room at the other end of the hall, Shalnark had descended the stairs and entered the men's, his eyes glued to the screen. You would probably have just entered the showers, cleaning off the smell of the pool chemicals. It was unlikely that you would've been done that fast.
It was also too bad that he couldn't record any images of you while you were in the shower. But with the way anyone under his control would smile at you, he needed to be careful whenever he used his ability to spy on you. Another incident like the one with the lifeguard and you'd leave this gym for good.
That would be a shame, as he'd truly grown to enjoy this routine. Both yours and his own.
He and his puppet waited as he heard the sound of water running at the other end of the locker room. The woman he was controlling was standing at the end of one aisle of lockers, opposite of the one that you typically used, staring blankly at the gray metal in front of her while he listened for a sign that you were returning.
When he heard the water switch off, Shalnark quickly set it so his phone would record the images seen from the eyes of his puppet, anticipating the state you would be in when you walked around that corner. He followed up by having the woman open the locker door in front of her and use it to hide her face while he made it appear as though his puppet was looking for something.
A few moments later, you were there.
Through the corner of the woman's eye, he immediately caught sight of you clad in only a towel. You glanced over at the woman once, to which Shalnark made sure she averted her eyes, and then you paid no more mind to her as you put in the combination on your lock. Once the door to your own locker was opened, you removed the towel that hid the sight of your body from him.
His mouth went dry as he saw your bare skin and the goosebumps appeared all over as those parts that had been covered up were met with the chilly air in the locker room. He saw the way your nipples had hardened as a result of that, and he double checked to make sure the phone was recording you. He saw the way the water continued to drip from your hair that was still damp despite your efforts to dry it, and the way the water dripped from one strand that fell onto your chest and rolled down your skin, traveling down past your breasts and stomach until it reached-
Shalnark took in a deep breath as he looked away from the screen, tapping his foot while he made an effort to control himself. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes on you as much as possible, trying to leave the building while hiding a tent would be awkward, even for him. This was what the recording was for; so he could view the video when he didn't need to worry about that.
From that point, he spared only brief glances towards the phone's screen, doing so just to make sure you didn't catch the way his puppet stared at you.
What he caught sight of were little snippets of you: a quick look at the way you pulled your underwear up your legs. How you looked from behind as you put your bra into place. Those few droplets of water that were still present on your exposed skin. The way that skin was then quickly covered up as you pulled your shirt over your head, followed by how you zipped up the front of your pants.
It was a constant back and forth from the view of his puppet, and Shalnark twirled his second needle in his hand as he kept himself from getting too excited.
He knew that the video he would have later wouldn't be very good. None of them ever were, as all he could enjoy were those snippets of your vulnerability sandwiched between the anticipation of being caught.
But there was a charm to them, something about them that he loved as he would capture these moments of yours. Maybe that was a quirk of his own, as he was truly enjoying the ways he tiptoed around you, watching your every move while you remained unaware of the fact that you were actively being stalked.
Besides, if he wanted a nicer quality video of you, he'd just look through the footage from the cameras he'd placed in your apartment.
Ah, but he was getting distracted.
Right now, he should be focusing on what you were doing.
And since you were nearly finished with tying your shoes, Shalnark gathered up the bag he had brought with him before exiting the locker room, his eyes glued to his phone as he saw you gather up all of your things before you turned to leave.
Once he saw that, he released the woman he'd been controlling and the screen went dark.
As he placed the phone and remaining needle into his pockets, he thought that today, it'd be nice if he could interact with you in some small way. Maybe to set the gears in motion for the relationship on your end.
Probably not that, but he at least wanted you to know that he existed.
You were several steps behind him when he began ascending the stairs that led up to the front desk area. Among the other noises that were within the building, he focused in on the way you walked and the sounds of your shoes upon the tiled floor that changed once you reached the stairs yourself. He sensed how far you were behind him, which wasn't far at all.
But he kept himself from looking back.
After climbing the last step and heading towards the doors at the front, Shalnark gave a brief wave to the employee at the front desk who was still present at their post. That time they made a sour face when they caught sight of him, and he saw the way they mouthed the word “prick” as they looked away angrily.
Shalnark personally didn't understand why that particular employee was still so mad about the fact that he wasn't paying any membership fees. After all, it wasn't his fault that a loophole in their guidelines allowed anyone with a Hunter's license free access to the gym and all its amenities. And really, why would anyone even bother still being mad about something so petty?
Ah well. It didn't matter. That employee couldn't do anything and the rage they radiated at him was amusing to him. For now, at least.
Then his attention shifted, away from the employee and back to you as he sensed that you also had reached the top of the stairs and were now heading for the doors as well.
As he had reached the exit before you did, he pushed one of the doors open and then looked back, pretending as though he had just noticed that you approaching. With a smile, he pushed the door open wider to step through and then kept it open, waiting to the side as he held the door for you.
On realizing that he was waiting for you, you smiled at him as you offered a “thank you” as you walked through the open doorway. He smiled and nodded in response. Quickly reaching the second set of doors in the entryway, you opened one and copied the action he had made previously, holding the door open for him. Just as you had, he thanked you in turn, to which you smiled again as you answered “no problem.”
Now out of the building, you began to walk over to where you had parked your car, only to notice immediately that he was walking in the same direction as you as the car that Shalnark was currently using not too far from where you had parked your own. Evidently you felt awkward saying nothing as the two of you walked side by side, especially with the previous interaction, and you made yourself speak up.
“The heat has been pretty brutal lately,” you commented as you looked up to the sky. The sun was higher now and there wasn't a single cloud present.
“Yeah. It's always the worst when you take one step outside and you feel like you could immediately keel over from heatstroke,” Shalnark replied.
You nodded along as you agreed with him, then added “I think we're supposed to get some thunderstorms this weekend, though, so that might keep things cool for a bit.”
“We can always hope,” he answered.
The meaningless conversation ended as quickly as it started as you came to where you had parked your car. You fished around your bag for your keys as you wished him to have a good rest of his day, to which he wished you the same.
That was it for today. Any further attempt at conversation wouldn't be received well, especially when it was clear that you needed to be somewhere. Right now the view you had of him would be one of neutrality – he'd been nice to you, you'd been nice back, and you had a conversation that was so boring that you'd likely forget about it within the next few hours, though hopefully his image might stay in your mind and you would recognize him the next time your paths crossed.
You probably hadn't noticed him on the jogging track, not today or any other. When it came to things like your surroundings, you could be incredibly oblivious at times, especially when you were too deep in thought.
He reached into his pocket as he went to pull out his own car keys, and his hand bumped against his phone.
…. He still had a needle he had yet to use, didn't he?
……
No one else was around and the opportunity was too good to pass up.
Before you could enter your car, he turned and threw his remaining bat needle at you, which promptly struck you on your shoulder. You were instantly frozen in place as you were put under his control, a puppet waiting for orders.
Shalnark didn't need to bother looking at his phone as he typed out your commands, and as he approached you, you turned to him, smiling as you waited patiently. He felt that the smile you were giving him now wasn't as pretty as it had been when you'd been speaking to him earlier, but it would do for now.
As would this.
Shalnark pulled you into his embrace when he reached you, tilting your head up with one hand as he leaned in for a kiss while his other hand continued to type in commands. You did as Black Voice ordered you, leaning in as well and reciprocating his kiss while your soft hands went to rest on his chest ever so gently, the way he imagined you would touch him if you were to do so of your own free will.
He got to experience just a little bit of you: the taste of your lips, the smell of your now slightly damp hair, the softness of your skin, the feel of your body being so close to his and the slight scent of pool chemicals that still clung to you despite the shower you had taken.
It wasn't perfect. There was a robotic feel to your touch that was caused by the use of his ability, and he knew that right now, all you were was just a shell of yourself.
But it was far to early to expect to get anything like kisses from you, and while he was determined to maintain the course to have the relationship progress as naturally as possible, he couldn't help but cheat in little moments like this.
Eventually, you'd be kissing him of your own free will, so what was the harm in making you do that a bit early? After all, if you didn't know about it, how could it ever hurt you?
So he kept his lips on yours as he held you.
Letting you go felt bittersweet; he wanted to have your touch on him longer, but he was already pushing it with how long he was keeping you there. He knew you had somewhere to be within the next hour and it wasn't time yet for him to deconstruct your social life. Things needed to be normal for now. So with some effort, he pulled himself off of you, and as soon as the needle in your shoulder registered the commands you pulled away, turning back to your car in the same position you had been when he took you over. It was once Shalnark had entered his own car that he deactivated Black Voice, and within an instant, the needle disappeared.
He watched through the rear view mirror as you came back to your senses, seeing a brief bit of confusion hit you, and you were confused as you looked about your surroundings. Clearly you sensed that something was off, but when you looked about further and saw nothing out of place, you stalled for a moment, keeping your hand on the open driver's side door while your head tilted down. You were thinking it over, no doubt, racking your brain as you tried to figure out why you felt like something felt strange. But with no evidence of anything actually happening and no sign of anyone near you that could be giving off such a sensation, you would be forced to concede that nothing had happened. And after a few further moments of stalling, you entered your car and shut the door, driving off not long after.
There was still a puzzled look on your face as you drove away, but by the end of the day, you would be over it.
As for Shalnark, his focus would be on getting home so he could jack off to the latest video of you before he saved it to his computer alongside dozens of similar videos and images that all featured you.
And maybe next Wednesday, he might find the opportunity to talk with you a little bit more.
As he began to head back to his apartment, he knew that he didn't need to go through all of this. All of the stalking and the filming and the ways he planned to insert himself into your life. Shalnark could easily take you away by force; he had proved that moments ago when he took control. You were powerless to stop him, and you wouldn't be able to protest until he had taken you to someplace of his liking, and even then there would be little you would be able to do. This charade he was playing wasn't necessary, and Shalnark was well aware that he was only making extra work for himself by playing with you in the way he did.
But that was what he liked about it.
Watching you from afar to find out your habits, seeing the different things you both liked and disliked, witnessing the good and the bad moments you would have on any given day, storing all of those moments on the hard drive of his computer so he could look them over in detail whenever he pleased. Seeing the way you had put your life together, just so he could come in and change everything and make himself the center of your world.
Others probably wouldn't have wanted to bother with a plan that took such a long time. And that was fair, to an extent. It really would be easier and faster to take you away. But he didn't think going about it the fast way would matter much.
Because no matter how it happened, the end result was that you would be with him. He would love you and you would reciprocate, and the two of you would live happily together. That was what Shalnark had decided, and therefore, that was the only way this could turn out.
And it was said that the journey was just as important as the destination, wasn't it?
Shalnark smiled to himself once again, his fingers eagerly tapping on the steering wheel.
Doing it this way was just more fun.
471 notes · View notes
galamalion · 4 months ago
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𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇
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summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.
⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k
⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3
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Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 
Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 
It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.
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You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.
If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.
You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.
The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.
“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”
His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.
You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.
The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.
Oh, how you preferred the sun.
A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.
Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.
“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.
You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.
A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.
“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”
The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.
With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.
“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.
“Are you calling me old?”
“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”
“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”
“I liked my old one.”
“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”
“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”
Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.
“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”
His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.
“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.
Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.
“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”
“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”
Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”
Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.
A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.
“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”
Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.
“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”
Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.
You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.
The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.
“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.
If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.
Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”
You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”
“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”
He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."
“...And it won’t hurt?”
“Not a bit,” he smiled.
You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 
With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.
Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.
“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.
“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”
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466 notes · View notes
ataraxiaspainting · 3 months ago
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Blue Crow.
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Yan Nobunaga x F Reader x Yan Uvogin. (College AU.)
Synopsis: Uvogin hates taking buses, but he enjoys seeing you one seat ahead of him.
Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con, the reader is described as AFAB and she/her pronouns are used, unhealthy relationships, brief mentions of drug/alcohol usage, victim blaming, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), sexual blackmail, and implied stalking.
Word Count: 5k.
somewhat inspired by the game classmates! check it out here if you'd like. <3
also inspired by @uvobreakmylegs's digging deeper! it's amazing! <3
*~*~*~*
The 5A station was the closest one to your dorm. It had no seats or shelter of any kind in case of bad weather, only a large blue sign that said Yorknew University, Nursing Program in white bold letters – because it didn’t say anything else about the buses that stopped by and because this stop is surrounded by old rotting trees, the drivers sometimes fail to notice you.
It’s raining now, and everything here is so dark – your clothes, your umbrella, the night sky, and your bag.
Your phone says the bus will be here any minute now, but will it even see you?
If not, you’ll have to find a different way to make it to Nobunaga’s place.
He seemed friendly enough. If you were a few minutes late, surely he’d understand. You were not close enough to invite him over, go inside his home, or let him drive you anywhere, though that is just how you are with all males you casually know. It’s nothing personal.
There are two bright lights a small distance away, and at the sight you raise your hand and wave.
By some miracle, the bus stops and opens its automatic doors.
You take a few steps as you close your umbrella and make your way up the stairs, being careful not to slip. You slip a few quarters into the little slot beside the driver and sit down on a seat near the window.
Taking off your hood, you ruffle your wet bangs out of your face, using your reflection to attempt to get them back to looking presentable. It doesn’t really work, but what does it matter? You’re just there to give Nobunaga some notes his friends wanted to give to him and leave. 
*~*~*~*
“You’re [First], correct?” Chrollo asks, putting his right hand out towards you.
You take out your earbuds, fixing your posture as you nod. A blonde man sits next to you on the bench before Chrollo could, smiling and giggling like he is some gossiping schoolgirl.
“Dang, you’re cute!” Shalnark exclaims. 
“Shal, what the hell are you doing?” Uvogin had started to stomp over. His mere size was enough to keep your eyes on him and not the others. Even the one girl who was with them didn’t draw your attention, despite her hair being unnaturally bright pink.
“Saying hi!” Shalnark put an arm around you. On instinct, you squirm a little bit, not noticing how Uvogin rolled his eyes in response to how Shalnark smirked at him. Once you were out of his loose grip, Chrollo politely cleared his throat.
“I was wondering if you could do something for us, Miss [First]. For the gang, I mean.” 
The gang? From what you knew, Chrollo’s group was always causing some sort of rule-breaking but Chrollo himself stayed at the top of the class with superb grades and plenty of attention from girls. It is like no one knew they were connected. They seemed like bad news, but all of your interactions with them had been positive thus far. Did Nobunaga put in the good word for you?
“Um… sure?” As long as it was something that didn’t land you in prison or the hospital, you decide to go along with what Nobunaga’s leader asks of you. It is probably a bad idea to reject, and maybe you’ll get something good out of it in exchange.
“I’d like you to give Nobunaga some notes he missed. He’s been out. Sick, most likely.” You didn’t notice the small piles of books he was carrying until he made them closer to you, wanting you to take them. “Surely you have noticed? He talks to you a lot, I hear.”
“Yeah.” You decide to put them on your lap for the time being. The notes weren’t as heavy as they would have been if you were carrying them. “Is… he doing better?”
“Not sure,” Uvogin says, attempting to pry Shalnark off the bench. “He hasn’t been answering his phone, you see.”
“I don’t wanna!” Shalnark whines.
“Shut up, Shal. You’re gonna make us look bad in front of Nobu’s girlfriend.”
Girlfriend?
“I’m… not his girlfriend…”
They don’t seem to hear you. You’re not exactly the loudest person, after all. You have been teased for having a soft voice and having to speak up. These people wouldn’t ignore you, you think. Shalnark and Uvogin are play fighting, and Chrollo is talking to that magenta-haired woman. They wouldn’t ignore you, you’re just being too shy. They wouldn’t ignore you, they are Nobunaga’s friends. Nobunaga wouldn’t ignore you, why would they?
“I’m… not his girlfriend.”
Uvogin is the only one to give you a response after hearing it. He shoots you a confused look before continuing to tickle Shalnark. No one else seems to notice your words.
After a few more tries, you decide to give up for now. Looking at the notebooks in front of you, you decide to open the top one up. There are just standard mathematical problems as well as some doodles and words of encouragement in the vacant spaces of the looseleaf. 
‘Go get them, tiger!’
‘Don’t die on me now!’
‘Remember one plus one?’
‘♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡’
At first, you think that it is Nobunaga’s girlfriend, but you shake your head to erase it. No. The gang thinks you are his girlfriend. 
Perhaps Shalnark then? From the times you sat near him in your chemistry classes, his handwriting was a mess. It took some effort to realize that he was simply drawing and not paying attention to the professor in the slightest. However, his favorite things to draw were bats and computers. Would he really draw hearts and not those things so Nobunaga could know it was him? 
Maybe it was an inside joke. You’re not going to ask because you don’t want your question to come off as disrespectful, though you were slightly curious.
You’ll just do what you were told and go right back home.
*~*~*~*
Shalnark texted you the address of Nobunaga’s place a few hours ago, but if you were being honest it took a while to decipher what he was saying. In between every five or so memes or videos he sent you there was a number or letter, maybe three at most if you were lucky.
You sat there with your phone in your hands for what felt like forever, not having the guts to ask Shalnark to just tell you straight up – because he wouldn’t, you know that.
From what you managed to gather from your online map, it seemed that Nobunaga’s place and Uvogin’s place were near each other, no more than a fifteen-minute walk at most. If they lived so close to each other, why didn’t one of them just visit the other? That was the third red flag you didn’t say anything about… and came to regret only half an hour later.
The electric sign attached to the entrance of the bus flickered from time to time with varying degrees of brightness. One person complained openly to the driver that the screen was so dark they did not know that they had missed their dormitory’s building. He didn’t care, only shrugging his shoulders and telling the student that ‘that’s life’. They got off murmuring curses you could hear from the middle part of the bus. Once again, he didn’t care. Like Shalnark, the driver wouldn’t take anything you say seriously; so you just used your online map to count the stops ahead.
“Hey.”
“Next stop: Aster Road, Thirds Street.” The automated message from the bus speakers loudly said, glitching a little after the word ‘Road’.
“Hey.” 
You failed to notice who was behind you as you were too busy counting the stops ahead on your phone.
“Hey.”
“Next stop: Ritas Street, Wilds Complex.”
“Hey.”
“Next stop: Neo Road, Neon Green.”
“Hey.”
“Next stop: Romeos Road, Kiki Terrace.”
“Hey.”
“Next stop-”
You failed to hear the name of the stop because the hand that tapped your shoulder startled you and made you turn your neck around to the seat behind you.
You see a familiar face despite the fading light – or should you say, a familiar body.
“O-Oh… hi… Uvogin.”
Satisfied you had finally noticed him, Uvogin puts his hands behind his head as he smirks. 
“Fancy seeing you so late,” he begins, looking down at your black bag. “Going to Nobu’s place, ain’tcha?”
“Yeah… you?”
“Basketball.”
Was Uvogin on the team too? If you remember correctly it was only Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga who were on it. Perhaps he just wanted to watch? Oh well. It’s not any of your business.
After remembering your last conversation with him yesterday, you decide to ask him why everyone thinks you are Nobunaga’s girlfriend – you only talked to him when necessary, in the classes you shared with him, but to be fair he also escorted you around the building most days.
“Listen… about that time…”
“What?” Uvogin turns his head, cupping his ear with his hand. “Speak up.”
“About Nobunaga and me…” You look down – at the books, at your cold wet hands, at the heels of your feet bouncing up and down. Your gut tells you that you’re making a mistake if you talk to him about you and Nobunaga’s relationship, or lack thereof. Your brain goes against it, saying that clearing things up will lead to less trouble down the line. 
Your heart is beating too fast to accept or reject the possibility. 
“Nobunaga and me…”
“You’re still talking too low,” Uvogin interrupts, his stare near-lethal to you. When you flinch at his words, his annoyance seems to disappear. “Hey, you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Yeah. Yeah, you’re friends or at least acquaintances. Saying the truth won’t hurt him and won’t hurt you. Maybe Shalnark’s teasing will go away. Maybe Chrollo won’t give you a task again. Maybe Nobunaga won’t be confused when he comes back to school.
“Nobunaga and me… aren’t dating-”
Uvogin’s expression changing wasn’t as fast as before, but his glare intensified as he stood up.
“Next stop: Nightstar Avenue, Owl’s Place.”
Your ears felt numb after you heard the ‘beep’ sound of someone pressing the stop button. Your eyes felt numb as you tried to see the details of Uvogin’s scowl in the dark.
It was Uvogin. He made the bus stop. But why?
It then hits you; this is the closest stop to Nobunaga’s place.
“Stop requested.” The speaker stated. The bus started to pull over next to a tall blue sign.
“Woah, the bus got here so quickly,” Uvogin says, going to the exit doors. When he didn’t hear you stand up too, he turned in your direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t know the directions to your boyfriend’s house?”
“Please exit through the rear door.” Another automated message. Uvogin presses on the door and it lets him out. After a few more seconds you follow him – your gut tells you that you must.
He helps you down with his much larger hands despite you not really needing it – there are handrails on the doors for that.
“What were you saying?” Uvogin asks. “Something about Nobunaga?”
There is a lit street lamp above the sign. It doesn’t flash like the ones near your dormitory and is much brighter. Despite the weather still being stormy, you can see houses a small distance away – not just the street. 
You can see that Uvogin is smiling again.
“Nothing… It’s nothing.”
“Oh?” He sneers, his smirk getting even bigger. “You didn’t want relationship advice?”
“No…” You reply, your hands going to your backpack’s zipper to make sure the notes don’t get too wet.
“Nobunaga likes mochi. Maybe you can get some for him next time. Daifuku especially. He’d be so happy, maybe he’ll stop skipping class with me.” 
A sigh comes out of both of you at the same time for much different reasons. 
“But I don’t want that to happen… hmm.”
*~*~*~*
The outside of Nobunaga’s house wasn’t the house that stood out the most in this neighborhood. It had rather small walls that had peeling white paint in places closer to the ground, and cigarettes and used needles were thrown all over his dead lawn. The only thing you somewhat liked was the rusty gold sign beside the front door that read 251 – and only for the styling of the numbers.
“Here’s the place,” Uvogin says, patting your back as a way to gently push you forward. “Go on, doorbell's right there.”
You were forced up the steps with a force you knew was gentle for Uvogin but not for you. A trembling finger approaches the button slowly – as if using it would make you lose it via a guillotine’s blade.
Doing so didn’t because this is reality, but the pain in your heart feels similar to such a fate anyway. After a few more seconds and the door still being closed, Uvogin knocks loudly.
“[First]’s here!” His yell almost made you cry.
Your name may as well have been the password because Nobunaga opens the door right away. He pants a little like he was running to greet you two.
“Oh fuck, you made it! I thought the storm woulda scared you away.”
Nobunaga didn’t look very sick; he wasn’t wearing a shirt, had his hair down, and only his boxers covered his lower half. He didn’t look very sick; he actually looked quite well. Those signs scared you more than Uvogin’s subtle threat – if his glaring was intended to be such, that is. You don’t step past the doorway, leaving Uvogin to stand in the rain as you take off your backpack. But when you try to undo the zipper, you feel both of their hands touching you up and down as their grins widen.
“Stop that,” You murmur, attempting to step back. Your spine was greeted by Uvogin’s front half. You feel something pressing into you. Once you figured out what it was, you started to go under one of Uvogin’s arms. His leg caged you in then.
“She’s cute, Nobu.”
Nobunaga doesn’t answer in words – he only chuckles and continues to have his hands resting on your hips.
“Listen. Your notes are here, Hazama.” You say, making an effort to still be nice, to still be understanding. You don’t want to scream because what if you’re misreading something? You don’t want anyone to… be framed for something they didn’t do, right?
“It’s Nobunaga.”
“Huh?”
“Call me Nobunaga,” You’re pushed and pulled more. Before you can blink, you’re thrown on the couch’s back. Uvogin is the one who lets go of you and the one who locks the front door, Nobunaga is too busy feeling the back of your thighs. “I’m your boyfriend – it’s normal to call each other by our first names, right?”
Boyfriend?
Was… Was he…
Was he the one who told his gang you’re dating?
“I missed you, baby.” He murmurs, leaning down and pecking your neck. 
He doesn’t seem to note how you’re trembling now.
“Stop.” 
Uvogin simply gets closer. He doesn’t touch you, but he crosses his arms smirking as he leans against the sofa’s frame.
“Stop,” You repeat, trying to push Nobunaga harder off of you.
It’s not an order either of them recognize, so Uvogin continues to stare and Nobunaga continues to kiss your body.
“Stop!” Your tone makes Uvogin slightly shift. He frowns and his arms uncross. 
He takes a few steps towards you. 
“Nobunaga.” Uvogin’s voice is cold now, like how it was when you were about to get off the bus. You freeze. Nobunaga doesn’t stop – he doesn’t even look at Uvogin. “Nobunaga.”
“Stop, Haz-”
“Watch it.” Uvogin glares at you. “It’s ‘Nobunaga’ for you.”
He’s not… He’s not going to help you?
“Yeah.” Nobunaga agrees, pulling you further into his embrace.
“Let go of me!” You snap and push harder than you did before – and manage to finally ply him off of you.
Nobunaga stares down at you. He is now still. He doesn’t blink. His smile has slightly faded, but it is still there. There are subtle movements in his hands. His fingers are curled up. They want to grab something again.
They want to grab you.
“Don’t joke around like that, princess,” Nobunaga finally says, taking a few steps too close to you. “Not many guys are willing to forgive their girl for pushing them away like that. You almost screamed my ears off.”
“I’m not joking!”
“You are.” Uvogin interrupts, stomping his feet. “You are and I am starting to get annoyed. What about you, Nobu?”
“I’m just here to give notes Lucilfer told me to give to Hazama! I’m not here for anything else.”
Nobunaga’s gaze lingers on your backpack for a few silent moments after you say that. “Really… nothing else?” 
“No, she’s here to cheer you up, Nobu,” Uvogin says, attempting to give a warm smile to his best friend. “She’s… just shy.”
The glare he gives you when Nobunaga’s eyes aren’t on him makes you feel like you are about to see God.
“...Right, [First]?”
You don’t respond right away, but Nobunaga does. He giddily smiles like a child on Christmas morning.
“Oh, you!”
He hugs you – his skin feels akin to slime and his hair clings onto your neck in little bunches. You feel unbrushed knots and his heart beating fast with adrenaline. When your own heart mimics the motion, Nobunaga thinks you are simply being shy – Uvogin had once again fed his delusions.
“She brought you the notes you missed. Even wrote a few cute lines in the blank spots.” Uvogin smirks as you look at him in horror. “She wanted me to come with her. Was anxious about missing your bus stop, sweet thing.”
He walks over to your backpack and grips onto the zipper. You attempt to stop him, walking a bit forward and trying to raise your hand, but Nobunaga’s grip is too strong. Within only a few seconds, the stack of notebooks Chrollo had given you is in Uvogin’s hands. He opens a page and starts reading aloud the cute notes someone else had written.
“Go get them, tiger.” 
He turns to another page. 
“Don’t die on me now.”
Then another.
“Remember one plus one?”
Then another.
“A whole bunch of hearts here…”
He then turns to a section you hadn’t looked at before – the back page.
“With lots of love, your one and only girlfriend [First].”
Oh shit. Oh shit.
Did his gang set you up?
…They did. They did.
This is bad. So very bad.
“I never-”
“Stop being so shy with your boyfriend, [First].”
“Why are you being so difficult?” Nobunaga asks, slightly frowning as you protest.
You have to get out of here – fast. If you distract them enough, maybe you’ll be able to make it outside. But they’re faster than you, just better overall when it comes to physicality-
Uvogin’s hand rests on your shoulder, silencing any thoughts or ideas he does not approve of.
“I know what she wants.”
“Huh?” You and Nobunaga ask simultaneously with two distinctly different tones.
It then dawns on both of you what he means – because his shirt is tossed on the couch before you can even take a step toward the front door.
“I know what she wants.” Uvogin repeats.
He wants nothing more than to put you on your knees as he unzips his pants and as Nobunaga keeps you down. He wants nothing more than for Nobunaga afterward to have a turn – or he could go first if he wishes. One of his fingers and one of Nobunaga’s own will be forced into you after your own clothes are discarded. Two tongues will slather all over your pussy like thirsty dogs – and after a few pictures are taken you’ll stay the night with Nobunaga while he makes his way to tell Chrollo that his idea was a success.
“I really couldn’t have done it without you, boss.”
-You try to scream and Nobunaga’s hand muffles your mouth’s cries.
“Don’t go being such a brat,” Uvogin continues, “When all you really want are two bodies to love on you.”
Your arms are grabbed and you are dragged up the stairs.
In a last attempt to get out of here, your legs spread out on the stairs and kick around at Nobunaga – but the fight is short-lived because they thump so roughly with each wooden step and it hurts; Nobunaga makes a note to finally get rid of any rotten oak once you leave.
The bedroom isn’t as spacious as Uvogin had hoped. Clothes were scattered all over the place already; most Nobunaga’s but others were clearly from past flings or some of yours that he had managed to steal. Your dorm was nicer despite it being the same size as the bedroom and your bed being even smaller. But at least yours had a frame and covers.
Maybe later Uvogin will stop by to see you crying yourself to sleep and to take some trophies.
Your white panties were a favorite of his, but Uvogin wouldn’t mind a little bit of change in his collection. A few bras perhaps or a few black thongs. He hopes for whole lingerie sets, but he knows it will only happen if he is lucky that particular evening.
Uvogin sits on the bed first. He thinks about pulling on your hair to make you sit on the dirty floor, but he dismisses the idea. That would be hurting you more than he has to and Nobunaga would be upset at him inevitably having long strands on his palm.
“Hey Nobu,” He says, unzipping his pants and boxers as he quickly tugs them both down to his ankles. “Make sure she’s comfy as we do this, okay?”
It took a while for you to stop crying after that. It took a while for you to do a lot of things Uvogin and Nobunaga wanted you to do. It took a while for you to take just the tip of Uvogin’s penis. Nobunaga had told Uvogin to take it slow when you had finally clamped your lips around him.
“It’s her first time, Uvo – be gentle, okay?”
Uvogin almost laughed at the irony he managed to leave unsaid.
He didn’t want Nobunaga to get upset with all the information he had attained while stalking you for months. You were supposed to just be his little secret he pinned down once in a while, but then Nobunaga just so happened to share a few classes with you.
He fell for you too. Uvogin had never felt any negative emotion for Nobunaga ever over their years-long friendship, but the slight tinge of envy he possessed the moment he found out could almost count.
Oh well, he thinks. I still have pictures of you that he does not. Pictures I would rather not have him see and you probably don’t either.
Just for future reference in case you acted up too much, though Uvogin could always take the more physical route.
Though once again he remembers that Nobunaga is in the picture now. Though their bond is as strong as forged steel, he knows that his friend has always been a bit too controlling when it comes to what he has and loves.
Whether that be simple instant ramen or expensive bottles of brandy, Nobunaga has always had a habit of stowing his possessions away where no one can even look at them.
Uvogin understands although Nobunaga had said nothing about you being something to own. Uvogin understands because he sees how he looks at you.
It’s not disgust he feels. It’s something much less potent, but he cannot put his finger on the exact word. Machi had described it perfectly once when they were all in their mid-teenage years.
He doesn’t bother to remember right now.
You are more important.
You look prettier than he had ever seen you – precum is leaking a little from your lips as little noises come out of them too.
Please. Please.
Please.
You’re not in tears right now.
Uvogin is glad. You in makeup is nice to look at, but he knows that since it is absolutely pouring outside you didn’t want to put some on. Either for that reason or because you knew that Nobunaga was just a friend, despite what Nobunaga in return has told the Troupe. It’s cute, really.
Maybe later he can pull this when he inevitably breaks into your dorm or even in a study room in the university’s library. You’ll have makeup on when you feel like it or when he forces you to. He can ask Pakunoda about how to apply mascara and stuff. She’ll teach him. As a bonus, she won’t tease him like Shalnark does daily.
Thinking more about the idea, Uvogin makes the mistake of letting go of your face.
You cough louder than he had expected. Your spit is now all over the wooden floor Nobunaga has to clean up later. The floors are water resistant. But not waterproof. Uvogin has to remember that there is in fact a difference. Hopefully, it won’t stain and rot like the stairs did, but if it does Uvogin wouldn’t mind paying for the damages.
He wouldn’t mind paying you to keep silent about this too – or he’ll make the cops silent if it came down to it.
“Oh,” Nobunaga rubs your arched back as you squirm and saliva runs down from your clearly sore jaw. He sounds disappointed, but trying not to let it show. It’s not successful. Every person Nobunaga has ever crossed can read him like a book, not that Nobunaga knows about it. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t want to admit it. “You spat it all up. Didn’t wanna swallow it?”
You don’t respond. Uvogin is getting used to that by now. Not Nobunaga though.
“Shh… it’s okay.” Nobunaga senses your distress but thinks it is just shyness. Uvogin is getting used to that too. “It’s okay… you did such a great job.”
“Home,” You choke out. “Please… let me go home now…”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Nobunaga asks, turning his head a little. “We’re not done here.”
“Please… Please, I-”
“Shh.” Uvogin interrupts. Now it is his turn to play the good guy here. “Nobu still hasn’t had his turn, remember? Thankfully he won’t use your mouth.”
A blend of hope and fright is in your gaze. Uvogin didn’t have to get used to that one. He has seen it too many times with all sorts of people. Chrollo loves that look. Feitan loves it too. Maybe their partners’ eyes are like that as well. A ginger-haired girl avoids Chrollo like the plague and Uvogin hasn’t seen that look particularly on her. Apparently, she does in fact beg him for things. With how prideful she acts, Uvogin would pay money to see that.
“He’ll use his,” Uvogin says. He stands up, zipping his pants back to how they used to be. There are a few white stains here and there, but nothing the laundromat wouldn’t fix. “Then you can go home. Okay, princess?”
You’ll get used to this, Uvogin thought to himself. Everyone gets used to things. Even death.
333 notes · View notes
cheenapri · 6 months ago
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Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]
Day four + five
Summary: Illumi takes you to meet his family as promised, it goes exactly how you'd expected to some degree. You're tired afterward and Illumi ends the date in the best way possible.
Word count: 13k ish
Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, the dinner is very uncomfy for the reader, Illumi slowly exhibits signs of horniness
A/N: There will be a bonus chapter but it takes place in the future rather than being a continuation of this! Thanks for the support! :3
Day one Day two + three
Taglist: @alien-00715-blog @rebirthbunbun
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Your wrist hurts. You think it’s broken if the unnatural lump didn’t give it away. You simply stare at it, cradling it with your other hand as you sit in the corner. It hurts like hell, but you’re somehow tolerating the pain.
“It’s not broken,” Illumi states, the dim light shadowing his face as he slowly slides off the bed and approaches you, “it’s simply dislocated.”
His eyes are half-lidded from what you could see of them, signaling his mild disappointment with you. You don’t respond, looking up at him as you continue to cradle your poor wrist. Illumi crouches down to your level, long hair draping perfectly over his shoulders. 
He’s beautiful, even in times like these.
He’s within arm’s reach, staring you dead in the eyes with that same disappointed expression. He only seemed to show emotion during times like these, wanting to make it clear to you just how stupid your actions were. 
He reaches a hand toward you, palm facing upward. “Give me your hand.” 
You’re reluctant, afraid he wasn’t done punishing you and was fixing to dislocate or even break more bones. Your heart was beating rapidly, your knees pushed against your chest with your injured wrist resting in between. Illumi only gestured his hand, he was becoming impatient.
“I won’t ask again.” his eyes are still boring into you.
You exhale sharply, tears stinging your eyes as you slowly present your injured wrist to him. He looks down at it, grabbing it roughly before quickly popping the bone back into place; the sudden sharp pain causing you to jolt and instinctively yank your arm. He doesn’t let go, grip tightening even further as he watches a tear fall down your face.
“Fix your face,” he orders. “you’re in no position to cry. This is your own fault.”
You quickly wipe your tears with your free hand, looking down at your knees as you try to prevent more from coming. Illumi then brings his other hand to firmly grab your wrist, rotating it to ensure everything was back in place. You wince in pain but manage to prevent yourself from pulling away again.
He finally lets go of your arm, slowly standing as you quickly pull your arm back into you. He’s staring down at you, his eyes melting holes into your soul. “I don’t understand why you can’t just behave.” he says, voice condescending, “You do know this means you won’t get food for a while, right?”
Fuck, you must’ve really upset him.
What you had done wasn’t even of great defiance, you had simply knocked his hand away when he was trying to wake you up for the third time. He was sitting too close to you on the edge of the bed and had visited at two in the morning according to the digital clock on the wall. You were tired, and disoriented, as he’d woken you to talk to you about his day. It wasn't uncommon for him to do this, unconsciously using you as an emotional outlet regardless of what you were doing. 
You should’ve just entertained him, he would’ve left eventually. You could tell his silent frustration was building every time you gave a hum or silence for an answer, his voice changing slightly with every other lazy response. You kept falling back asleep as he talked about his earlier activities, giving explicit details about his killings and quirky adventures in his flat, bored tone. He was annoying.
It all happened so fast, your wrist quickly being grabbed and dislocated as you tried to stop him from shaking the sleepiness out of you for the third time, the pain causing you to fall out of bed and scoot against the wall. 
That leaves you in your current predicament.
“Next time I’ll break it. You’re lucky I didn’t do that from the beginning.” he says, staring down at you. He doesn’t say another word as he goes to leave, your body relaxing once he’s out of the room, the titanium door clicking shut behind him.
Your wrist still hurts, and now you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.
.
.
.
Opening your eyes, you exhale deeply as you’ve had yet another nightmare regarding Illumi. Your body is sore. You can’t move, at least you don’t want to, not with Illumi spooning you like this. You can feel his head resting against you, his grip around your waist still firm. You wish to get up though, to be free of his hold, and so you shift, pushing down on his arms to move them off you. He doesn’t budge; you can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake. You shift again, putting a lot more force into it this time. His hold briefly tightens as he suddenly rolls over, dragging you with him and slamming you back onto the bed with more aggression than he intended. 
He was definitely awake. 
You were in an even worse position now as he managed to smother you even more, his weight partially on top of you and his embrace even tighter. You’re still as you lay there, wondering what it was you did in life to deserve treatment such as this. 
“Illumi,” you call out to him. He remains silent. “Illumi,” you call again, reaching forward and allowing your hands to dangle off the edge of the bed. 
He finally responds, “Hm?” 
“Could you let go of me?” you ask. He falls silent yet again, not making any move to loosen his hold on you. “Please, Illumi.” you feign a softer voice.
A few seconds pass before Illumi reluctantly releases his grip, eyes watching as you quickly slide off the bed. He continues to lay sprawled out in the same position as if you were still underneath him, his black eyes tracking your every movement. You quickly make your way into the safety of the bathroom, relaxing once the door is shut and locked behind you. 
Taking your time with your morning routine, you take a minute to stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed and your lips form a small frown, even when you relax your face. Spending so much time around Illumi is starting to take its toll on you; you hope this stupid date ends before your face transforms into a permanently pissed expression. 
You take a second to rub your temples, massaging them to soothe your growing anxiety as your mind starts thinking about tonight’s dinner. It doesn’t work, you’ll just have to deal with it. 
You sigh before opening the door, fully expecting to see Illumi standing and staring on the other side. You don’t. Instead, he was over by the balcony door, the curtains covering it moved aside as he looked out. He doesn’t acknowledge you despite knowing you were watching him. Your eyes shift to his hip-length hair, taking this moment to admire how it always seemed to flow gracefully behind him.
You finally speak up after staring at him momentarily, “What’s the plan for today? Before we go back to Kukuroo Mountain?”
Illumi continues to stare out the glass door before he slowly turns to look back at you. His expression is neutral, but something feels off about him. He turns forward again. “There is an aquarium I wanted to visit… after breakfast, of course.”
Looking down at the oversized Persian rug sitting in the middle of the room, you bring your hand up to your chin. “So… who are your family members?” 
He replies, “They are assassins."
“I meant their names and personalities.” you reiterate, rolling your eyes. 
He finally turns around to face you. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that.” 
Illumi knew you were still anxious about tonight’s events, trying to predict your fate by gathering what little information you could. He thought you were worrying over nothing. Without you asking, he walks over to the wardrobe, takes out multiple outfits, and lays them out on the bed. He then looks up at you expectantly, seemingly allowing you to choose your outfit again.
You look down at the options, then up at him, not knowing how to respond to his sudden susceptibility. Illumi wasn’t one to give you a choice, let alone give you a choice without you asking for it. You assumed his recent submission to your requests was simply to get you to shut up, thinking he’d return to his overcontrolling ways immediately after the storm passed; he didn’t, he’s only favoring you more.
You take an outfit that caught your eye and change in the bathroom, taking extra time to ensure you look perfect. The last thing you wanted was to sit in front of the Zoldycks looking a complete mess, though that should be the least of your worries. You move to sit on the lounge chair once you are finished. It doesn’t take Illumi long to get ready himself, your eyes lingering on him as he shuffles through a drawer, pulling out an orange pill bottle and shaking a singular tablet into his hand. 
He examines it for a moment, then grabs a water bottle sitting on the dresser before turning and offering you the items. “You should take this.”
You slowly grab the items, examining the little pill yourself before looking up at him. “What is it?” you ask.
“Diamox. It helps with altitude sickness.”
Confusion was spread across your face before you realized he was taking you to the actual Zoldyck mansion located on the mountain’s peak, making this much more personal and intimate than you ever wanted it to be. “Wait, we’re going all the way up the mountain?!” 
“Indeed. I would rather not have you passing out in front of everyone, so I’d advise that you take the pill.”
“What happened to just meeting on ground level?” you ask, clearly not wanting to be taken up the mountain.
“Some members of my family aren’t very fond of leaving the house. Just take the pill.”
You examine the pill further before reluctantly popping it in your mouth and taking a swig of the water. The pill is a bit hard to swallow but you manage to get it down. You had taken too long though, allowing it to dissolve a bit and leave an awful taste in your mouth. Illumi takes the water bottle from you, placing it on the TV stand before slowly grabbing your hand. It felt like your hand no longer belonged to you whenever he held it as if he had completely removed it from your body.
Illumi then walks you out of the suite. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, his pace was slower than it ever had been. He feels oddly warm compared to his usual coldness, his grip surprisingly gentle. Instead of taking you to the hotel’s restaurant as usual, he takes you to an outdoor dining area, sitting you down at a two-person table. The table was more of a small patio table than an actual dining table, resulting in him being closer than necessary; your legs would’ve touched if you weren’t seated sideways. 
You stare at the blockades surrounding the hotel, then at the trees gently swaying in the wind. You can’t see people in the distance from here as the trees and hedges block your view. The butlers that would be standing guard outside the hotel were out of view at Illumi’s request, leaving just the two of you in complete silence. 
“What’s the change for?” you finally ask after avoiding Illumi’s stare for some time, looking past him but not directly at him. 
He slowly blinked at you from what you could see in your peripheral vision, not responding audibly. You look away just as quickly, nervously scratching your head and turning your attention to anything other than him. 
He thought it’d be nice to eat outside, thinking it would clear your mind and dissuade you from saying anything he would make you regret, especially since he was much closer to you now. The last thing he needed was an incident right before you met his family — or any incident at all seeing how you’d become more docile since yesterday’s episode. It was probably the trauma. 
His eyes remained fixated on you, a slight change in his way of staring that managed to make you even more uncomfortable. It wasn’t a negative emotion he was hinting at thankfully, but you still couldn’t help but be slightly concerned as you couldn’t decipher it, only knowing that it felt a little more… intense.
“Aren’t you tired of staring at me?” you ask, still refusing to look at him. 
“No.” his answer came as quick and honest as you’d expected.
“It makes me nervous.”
“I know.” he admits but doesn’t make any attempt to avert his attention. 
It was his love language, when he wasn’t upset, the size of his pupils further indicating the intensity of his emotions. You quickly glance at him. His pupils were round rather than their usual oval shape, he was really admiring you. You look away yet again. 
A butler approaches, placing a singular plate of food and fork on the table before returning to his station. You look down at it, then up at Illumi. You noticed his hand position, him gripping both sides of his chair as if he planned to scoot even closer to you.
“Nope,” you objected before he could move, “we aren’t doing this today.” 
Illumi pauses, his pupils slowly returning to their oval shape. A small frown on his face as he slowly sunk back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
He chose not to force it. Thank god. 
You quickly grab the fork and plate before he can change his mind. It was a small, basic feat but you felt victorious nonetheless. You take your time eating, allowing yourself to enjoy the flavor rather than quickly chew and swallow like you would if he were adamant about feeding you. He continues gazing at you, but you manage to ignore it.
Eventually, you finish, placing the small, empty plate on the table. Illumi stands, as do you, and you follow him around the side of the hotel. His pace suddenly slows before you reach the truck, however, then stops completely. “There is something I wish to give you before we set off.” he says dully.
You look at him curiously as he fishes in his pocket, pulling out a small, black box. When did he sneak that into his pocket? He turns to you, presenting the piece of jewelry inside. It was a ring — an engagement ring. 
Your eyes snap from the ring to him, to the ring again, then finally back at him. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for this?” you ask almost sarcastically, but secretly dreading having to wear it, especially in front of others.
“I would’ve given it to you sooner, but you tend to be quite unpredictable. For your safety, I thought it best to hold onto it until I could ensure you wouldn’t destroy it.” Illumi’s voice was soft despite his subtle threat.
You watch as he takes the ring out, putting the now empty box back into his pocket and holding his hand out to you. You’re reluctant, not really fond of sporting it despite knowing you didn’t have a choice. After giving him your nondominant hand, he gently slides the ring onto your finger, holding it for a little too long as he gazes in admiration at the little piece of jewelry while you stare in repugnance. 
“We’re now officially married.” Illumi says unenthusiastically, slowly releasing your hand. He wasn’t wearing a ring, though.
The way he continued to stand there and stare down at you made you feel as if he was preparing to try something. Your suspicions were confirmed when he slowly raised both of his hands as if moving to cup your face, his staring becoming intense yet again. You quickly turned away.
“You’re wasting time. I want to go to the aquarium.” you said, hoping to dissuade him from whatever it was he thought of trying. 
Illumi remained quiet, his hands paused midair. You’re just being shy, he can wait a bit longer. Thankfully, his hands began their descent down at his sides and he slowly shifted his gaze to the black truck up ahead. “The aquarium… right.”
He began walking once again, much to your relief, and you soon found yourself seated in the passenger side of the truck. Soft music played as he pulled onto the empty road, though it was quieter than usual. 
The aquarium was quite large, just as you’d hoped, the only living beings in there being the aquatic life, a few butlers, a few employees, and, of course, you and Illumi. You watch the dolphins as they swim in circles, occasionally leaping out of the pool and spouting water out of their blowholes. There was a glass wall next to their indoor enclosure, giving a clear view of the vast lake just outside the aquarium. You found it cruel, completely understanding what the dolphins must be feeling whenever they caught a glimpse of the freedom they should’ve had. 
Illumi doesn’t notice anything, though if he did, he’d argue that species of dolphin won’t survive in lakes, therefore justifying their imprisonment.
He’s silent as he follows you around, seemingly lost in thought as he doesn’t appear to be as engaged as you were; not that you were super engaged either, the pretty fish and marine life doing little to take your mind off of what’s to come. 
“We’ve been here longer than we should’ve. It’s time to go back to the hotel.” Illumi’s voice fills the room. 
You continue to look down at the gray tree frogs as they sit perched on a branch, their large, black eyes looking back at you. You eventually look up at Illumi, frowning in a pathetic attempt to change his mind about the whole dinner thing. He stares at you blankly, indifferent to your emotions, and begins walking back toward the aquarium’s entrance. You groan loudly, to which he ignores, and follow him. The ride back was silent, he didn’t play any music. 
As you arrive in the hotel’s parking lot, you take note of two limousines parked out front, Shiori standing next to one of them. Illumi does his performance, helping you out of the car, and guiding you over to Shiori. She bows in formality, but Illumi ignores her. He opts to help you inside the limo, but he doesn’t get in himself, only shutting the door behind you and leaving you alone and confused. 
“Hello, Master (Name).” Shiori greets after entering the limo a few moments later, the vehicle starting and beginning to make the long drive back to Kukuroo Mountain. 
“Uh, hi?” you’re still confused. 
Shiori dryly chuckles, “I suppose Master Illumi didn’t tell you that you would be riding with me?”
“No, he didn't.”
“Master Illumi does like to keep to himself. I was instructed to inform you of the details and proper etiquette regarding tonight’s event as well as answer any questions you may have. To start, how are you feeling now?” Shiori’s voice is soft yet monotone, her gloved hands resting neatly on her lap. 
‘Well, I’m scared and I don’t want to go.” you say, fiddling your thumbs together as you look out the window. 
“I understand your feelings, Master (Name), but I assure you have nothing to be afraid of.”
That’s easy for her to say. She has a place within the Zoldyck family, whereas you don’t. 
“I’m going to be an outsider sitting in a room full of notorious killers. I have everything to be afraid of.” you say. You didn’t know much about the Zoldyck family aside from the fact that they kill and hire only skilled butlers to serve them, as well as any small details Illumi and your assigned butler were willing to share.
Shiori chuckles again. “The Zoldycks are assassins rather than mere killers. Their job is to complete missions for clients, not harm innocent people. As you are Master Illumi’s partner and no threat to them in any way, they would have no reason to harm you.”
You cringe at being called Illumi’s partner, the sound of it making your stomach churn. “Don’t call me that.” you groan, shutting your eyes as you bury your face into your hand and lean against the door. 
“My apologies, Master (Name). Shall I begin my lesson on etiquette?”
You agree and tone her out as soon as she starts her lecture. She explains that you are to sit and be silent unless directly spoken to, only answering with short responses if that was the case. Shiori put great emphasis on the word “directly” as if hinting at something greater.
Shiori continues, gesturing her hands as she speaks, “You absolutely must remain composed throughout the dinner, even if someone is insulting you.”
This catches your attention. You turn to face her again. “What do you mean by that?”
Shiori stops her gesturing, moving her hands back down to her lap, a small frown on her face. “What I mean is that it is of the utmost importance that you don’t let anyone’s offensive behavior get to you.”
Oh, someone wasn’t pleased about your existence. Your anxiousness was justified and you began fiddling your thumbs once more. Shiori simply stares at you, her head slightly tilted as if trying to get a better angle of your face. 
“So like,” you start, causing Shiori to straighten herself, “who are they?”
Shiori answers swiftly, “The Zoldycks are a family of assassins. They are highly skilled at their jobs and are known for their efficiency as well as their lethality.”
God, you can’t stand how much in common she has with Illumi.
“I meant their names and all.” you reiterate.
“My apologies, Master (Name). The Zoldyck family members you will be meeting today include Master Kikyo, Master Illumi’s mother; Master Silva, Master Illumi’s father; Master Zeno, Master Illumi’s grandfather;  Master Milluki, Master Illumi’s younger brother; and Master Kalluto who is Master Illumi’s youngest brother.” she explains. Your head is spinning from the amount of times she’s said the word “master” but you managed to retain the information. “There is also Master Killua who is also Master Illumi’s younger brother, but he will not be present.”
Shiori intentionally leaves out further details regarding Killua’s inability to attend the dinner, not wanting to give you a bad impression of him simply not caring, though he doesn’t, but also not wanting to delve into his and Illumi’s unsteady relationship. It would be awkward to mention that one time he tried to murder his little sister, right?
“Oh.” You reply simply, turning your attention down to your shoes.
“Is there anything else you would like to know, Master (Name)?” Shiori inquires. 
You’re silent for a moment as you slowly glance out the window before looking back at her. “What are your thoughts on this shitshow?”
Her eyebrows raise slightly, but she doesn’t comment on your use of profanity. She answers, “My personal thoughts on the matter are irrelevant, my only job here is to provide the assistance and support you need to strive.”
You frown. “Do they know about all the horrible things Illumi has done to me so far?”
“They do know where you’re being kept and that your circumstances may not be entirely voluntary, but they don’t know all the intimate details. Some may have their suspicions but are choosing not to confront as you are a rather… sensitive matter.” she pauses for a moment before continuing, her face showing slight guilt. “Additionally, they may feel it is not their place to interfere with Master Illumi’s personal matters, especially one as unique as this.”
You don’t respond as you simply stare at her, causing her to sink back into her seat. “Shiori,” you finally say, “why did you choose to work as a butler for them?”
She’s nervous, though she tries her best not to show it. Her eyes shift downward towards the ring on your finger, then back up to your eyes. “I believed becoming a butler would provide me with the opportunity to learn and grow. Working for an individual like Master Illumi is challenging but also rewarding, his high expectations require me to constantly push myself in order to improve and excel at what I do.”
“What about taking care of his hostage is rewarding?”
She knew you’d ask that as you’ve asked something similar in the past. She thought it appropriate to give you a direct answer, though finally. ‘While the circumstances regarding your situation are not ideal, I asked to become your personal butler with the goal of providing you with a comfortable life at the estate. I knew he would be more likely to choose a butler like me after the… incident… that had occurred, so convincing him wasn’t difficult.” she looked down at her hands, a small frown on her face. “I understand your feelings towards the situation, Master (Name). I really do. It’s rewarding to see you smile though, even despite what’s happening. I only wish to see you happy.”
Shiori does genuinely care about you, though in her own way. A way much, much better than Illumi’s in your eyes. You wonder if the two of you would’ve been friends in an alternate universe. 
“Do you..” you pause for a moment, “do you know how or why Illumi came up with this date idea?”
Illumi had already answered this, but you felt as though there was a huge part of it he was leaving out. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he’d suddenly thought of treating you like an actual person, to some degree, after months of torment and controlling behavior. 
“I’m sorry, Master (Name), but I don’t think I’m allowed to disclose that type of information even if I did.” Shiori states, continuing to stare down at her hands.
She had her suspicions when a butler from another group began lingering around your residence far too often, though she never confronted the older lady, only humoring her questions to some degree and directing her to Illumi if she wanted more in-depth answers. She could feel Silva’s judgemental stare through her monocle as she did so. 
She didn’t know much about Silva, but she knew he wasn’t entirely devoid of compassion. He most likely sent in his own butler after realizing just how serious Illumi was when he failed to hear news of your inevitable death after the fifth month. He wanted to assess the situation and see if you really were Illumi’s so-called spouse. 
You weren’t, not willingly at least. He concluded that you were more of a plaything than a spouse; he thought Illumi was confused.
He got his scoop but did not confront his son about it. He did, however, help in other ways such as giving Illumi a lesson on how to court his partner and being very thorough on how said partner should be treated.
This resulted in Illumi being softer towards you — or rather less likely to physically punish you. Shiori didn’t tell you any of this though, it was best if you remained unaware.
You stay silent for the rest of the car ride, feeling ill when the limo pulls through the gates and takes a specific manmade trail up the mountain. The bumpy ride only made you feel even more sick. Why didn’t they choose a better vehicle for this?
You refrain from looking out of the window, afraid leaning too much against the door to get a better look at the cliff would cause the limo to tip and you all to fall to your deaths. Shiori attempts to calm you as you’re now visibly shaking, but her monotone voice and nearly blank expression don’t help. You feel queasy, your heart feels heavy. You can’t tell if you’re sick due to anxiety or sick due to the high altitude. Probably both, though that Diamox should’ve kicked in by now. 
You let out a small whine as the limo slowly pulls up in front of the Zoldyck mansion, all of your negative emotions intensifying as reality sinks in. It’s cold. You hope it's due to the altitude and not from the lingering threat of death. The sea of dark lenticular clouds surrounding the mountain only makes it worse, you can’t see anything other than rock formations poking out from the clouds as well as occasional lightning.
It’s like you’re in a whole new dimension.  
“Master (Name),” Shiori calls out as she gently grabs your trembling hand, “I assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. No harm will befall you.” she states once again with a gentle smile. 
You respond in the form of a tear rolling down your cheek, your eyes wide as you stare at her. You quickly wipe it away as your door is suddenly opened, the breeze only making you feel colder. 
You take several deep breaths, swallowing hard as you slowly turn to face Illumi. He’s holding his hand out as usual, but his eyes have a more dictatorial feel to them. You quickly take his hand, assuming his family is watching and judging despite not being present. He doesn’t say anything as he helps you out of the vehicle, his grip on your hand a bit tighter than usual and his stare burning holes into you. 
You know what he’s demanding without him even needing to say it. You close your eyes for a moment as you slowly breathe in, and then out. You’re visibly calmer now, as he wanted, and he slowly releases your hand.
Shiori and a few other butlers trail behind as you follow Illumi towards the mansion’s front entrance. You swallow hard yet again as butlers open the door, mentally preparing yourself to see bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood splattered all over the place. 
You don’t.
The interior was comfortingly warm and quite nice if you ignored the assortment of weapons and odd, hopefully animal, skulls on the wall. It’s unsettlingly devoid of people as you walk through the mansion, you would’ve expected at least a few house butlers roaming about. You hear hushed muttering and whispering as you approach the main dining room, your dread immediately flares once again as you follow Illumi inside.
They’re all staring at you. They’re all judging you. 
You hold your breath briefly to keep your facial expression mellow, but you feel like you’re being watched by a pride of bloodthirsty lions. Their eyes follow you and you alone, causing you to try to hide behind Illumi. You’re unsuccessful as he moves himself out of the way. You don’t look at them, you can’t bring yourself to. It takes all your willpower to keep yourself steady as your knees threaten to buckle under their watchful eyes.
“This is insane…” a boy, who you assume to be Millluki, whispers to his grandfather, eyes still looking at you. He probably didn’t mean to be so loud, but how could you not hear him in this unbearable silence?
Zeno ignores him, but Silva shoots him an icy glare in response, causing the boy to stiffen and correct his posture in his seat. Silva then turns his attention back to you, but your eyes have a magnetic relationship with the table as you approach it, sitting directly across from him after Illumi pulls the chair out for you. 
You keep your gaze lowered as Illumi sits to your left, an empty seat to your right. You can feel his father’s intense gaze on you, as you do everyone’s, and you fiddle your shaking hands underneath the table in a hopeless effort to soothe yourself. You can see who you thought to be Kikyo on Silva’s right, and Zeno on Silva’s left; both brothers on either end of the table. 
You wonder who this empty seat was for if Killua was the only one missing. 
“This is (Name).” Illumi finally states after allowing the silence to linger for an unnecessary amount of time. His demeanor is slightly off despite his nonchalance. 
You’re freezing all of a sudden, you can’t decipher if it’s because someone decided to turn the AC on max or because Illumi was radiating energy. Considering you can only feel it coming from your left side, you conclude it was Illumi.  Illumi doesn’t say anything further and you’re not daring enough to add to his introduction, not that you wanted to anyway. 
“So Illumi, this is your… partner?” Kikyo asks, her tone rather uncertain and her demeanor ungracious. She didn’t like you, that much evident in her body language and how she kept her lips pursed when she watched your timid form enter the dining room. Even without knowing you personally, Kikyo thought you were a bad influence; you do not belong here.
“Yeah.” Illumi confirms, once again not adding any details. 
“Are… they an assassin too?” Kikyo inquires further. You can see that she’s gripping the edge of the table, her long nails digging into the expensive marble. 
“No.” Illumi responds.
Kikyo grits her teeth before swiftly correcting herself, her expression returning to one of slight vexation. “A hunter of some sort?”
Illumi replies, “Nope.”
“A nen user?! Anything achievable?!” she was grasping for anything that would prove you had at the very minimum some kind of honor.
“No. They don’t do anything at all.”
You’re not the melancholic type, but sometimes you wish you weren’t born — times like now. Kikyo’s shocked, as is everyone else, though internally, and she covers her mouth with her hands. In her mind, Illumi had just confirmed her biggest worries: you were nothing but a burden and an obstacle in his career as an assassin. 
You rub your knees together. You feel awkward. You shouldn’t be here. The tension is suffocating, but you feel as though the negative energy is directed at Illumi now. 
“So… they’re useless?!” she brings her hands down, almost slamming them onto the table. No one reacts to her offensive comment. Normally, Kikyo would’ve had better etiquette when hosting for a guest important enough to be invited inside the Zoldyck mansion, but you didn’t deserve that. You were just some person.
Illumi especially does not react, only casually sipping his wine as his mother begins to berate you. You awkwardly shift in your seat as the insults fly, trying your best to keep your expression neutral like everyone else’s. 
“How DARE you bring someone so inadequate into this household?! Just what were you thinking, Illumi?!” she yells.
You really wish you’d kept your mouth shut the other day.
Not in the mood to hear Kikyo’s whining, Zeno speaks up, “There’s no need for that. I’m sure Illumi has his reasons, we mustn’t judge.” his voice was nonchalant, almost teasing as he spoke. 
Kikyo sneers, clearly not taking too kindly to Zeno’s comment. “You know as well as I do that there is no reason to have someone so useless in the family! We mustn’t encourage this!”
“Kikyo.” Silva’s deep voice booms throughout the room, causing you to sink into your seat. He had turned his head slightly to look at his wife, the action causing her to fall silent while gritting her teeth once again. He turns back to you and you courageously meet his gaze. He’s scaring the absolute shit out of you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away as you continue to cower before him. You’re a feeble little thing, aren’t you?
Silva won’t judge though, not externally at least. “Father’s right, we mustn’t judge Illumi.” he forces a softer expression as he holds his hands out in an almost welcoming gesture. “Welcome to the family, (Name).”
You were officially a Zoldyck now.
You merely nod your head in response, a repressed frown on your face. Silva then crosses his arms, attention turned toward Illumi. “I’m surprised they’ve survived for this long.” he closes his eyes and lets out a small chuckle. “They’re in one piece too. You must be really serious about this.”
“I suppose so.” Illumi, who had been silent the entire time his mother spoke negatively of you, nodded in agreement, ignoring his father’s implied incredulity in his ability to keep you safe. He couldn’t blame him, however, as you’ve had several encounters with him and still managed to live another day. You seemed to have a knack for getting out of certain death situations, causing Silva to realize just how strong of a hold you had on his son’s heart. 
“Woah,” Milluki chimes in, his fingers rubbing his chin in curiosity as his eyes rake over you a little too much, “I never would’ve expected anything like this from someone like you, Illu. What’s so special about them anyway?”
Illumi’s reply came swiftly, “I don’t know.” 
The tension is oppressive once again. When’s the food coming so you can eat and get out of here? 
Illumi’s words were immensely shocking. They believed that someone as distant as him would have some sort of grand reason for wanting to pair up with you. Instead, it sounded like it was a whim that occurred to him with no ulterior motive in mind. They didn’t understand him, you didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand himself.
Illumi continues, “I saw something in them and I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. My efforts were in vain though, so I accepted the fact that I simply would never know.”
Your eyes drift downward again as they all look at you. It was like they were trying to solve the puzzle themselves based on your appearance alone. 
“You don’t know?” Kikyo, as expected, was the first to verbally react. “You don’t know?!” she repeats, her voice a bit louder. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Either you have a valid reason or you’re just wasting your time!” she huffs as she glares at you.
Her presence feels overwhelming, she must be releasing aura. It does not compare to the aura Illumi is releasing, though. 
“This… person… is nothing but a nuisance.” her tone is sharp as she continues speaking. 
Illumi nods. “They can be troublesome at times, I’ll agree with you there.”
You can’t tell whether you should be surprised or not at Illumi’s unwillingness to stick up for you. You prefer not to be as that would mean you’d have to recognize him as someone who’s supposed to fight for you. He’s not your savior in your eyes, and he never will be. 
“Troublesome…” Kikyo repeats, her voice laced with malice. She scowls deeply as she prepares to rant again, but the butlers distract her as they place tonight’s dinner on the table. Your internal prayers have finally been answered.
You feel slightly relaxed as everyone is now distracted by the lavish meal before them, but you’re still slightly shaking. You keep your hand bearing the ring under the table and use your other to pick up a fork — or try to as the fork seems to be glued to the table. You look at it confused, then briefly glance at Illumi. He returns the glance, but to a butler who quickly moves to replace your fifty-pound fork with a fork of normal weight. You were able to lift this one with ease and you slowly began to eat. 
You don’t turn to look at Kikyo as she scoffs. “See? Weak.” she slowly shakes her head.
Illumi doesn’t acknowledge her, but Zeno does. “Now now Kikyo, that's enough. Shouldn’t we try to be more welcoming to our new family member instead of criticizing their every move?” 
Kikyo huffs, her head turning away from you. She didn’t know what to say or think anymore. No one ever seemed to consider her perspective, no one seemed to understand how dire this was. She can’t even stand the sight of you right now, especially with you right next to her son. 
She takes a deep breath. “I just don’t think they’re good enough for Illumi. That’s all.” her voice feigns a sense of calmness. 
You didn’t take as much offense to her comments as you should considering you don’t want to be with Illumi either. You simply ignore her and continue eating.
“Illumi, how did you two meet?” Silva suddenly asks.
You nearly choke as you swallow. You keep your eyes glued to your plate, your teeth holding your tongue in place as you prepare yourself for Illumi’s answer. You know Illumi won’t lie about this, and you know things would only get more awkward when he proudly announces that he stalked and kidnapped you. 
Illumi slowly sips his wine, making direct eye contact with his father. He sets the glass down, taking his sweet time before he replies, “I saw them while I was out on a mission. I visited them frequently after that and our relationship grew from there.”
You were right, he did not lie. 
He had skewed the truth, making it seem as if you two had bumped into each other and hit it off rather than him stalking you and breaking into your house. However, Silva wasn’t dumb; he knew Illumi was misleading based on your subtle body language alone. You weren’t just afraid of them, you were afraid of Illumi as well.
“I see. That’s certainly interesting.” Silva feigned ignorance nonetheless. “I’m sure you make them very happy.”
“I try to.” Illumi states flatly. At least he was acknowledging you weren’t happy with him, but knowing him, he probably blames you for it rather than his own actions. 
You visibly cringe, but quickly correct yourself. Everyone already caught onto it though, so there was no point in trying to hide it. 
“Congratulations to the both of you.” Silva states, eyes glancing at you for the final time before the subject changes to an assassin-related topic.
You stay quiet as almost everyone ignores you, seeming like they have lost interest in the stranger in their home. That was fine by you as you were no longer in the spotlight. 
Illumi pulls your chair out as dinner concludes and you all head towards the living room. You can feel Milluki staring you down as you walk in front of him, but you refrain from complaining as you remind yourself that Illumi is not your savior. You enter the living room, noticing Shiori standing formally in the corner. Illumi looks at her, causing her to nod and walk over to you.
“Master (Name),” she says, “it is time for us to go. Please follow me.”
You’re confused as you thought you’d have to stay for much longer but follow Shiori nonetheless, assuming Illumi had decided to cut things short. You’re forever grateful as Shiori guides you out of the mansion, not even questioning the fact that Illumi was staying behind. No one says their goodbyes to you, not even Illumi, as they all silently watch you leave. 
Milluki chuckles once you’re out of earshot. “You get a pretty good idea as to why Ilu chose them once you see them from behind!”
He continues giggling to himself, but his smile instantly vanishes when a loud snapping sound rings throughout the room. His face twists into one of great affliction as he clutches his freshly broken arm. 
“What the hell, Illumi?! I was only joking!” he shouts, annoyed more than anything. 
Illumi simply stares at him, expression neutral but clearly threatening. Milluki steps back and grits his teeth, muttering insults under his breath as he turns to leave. The act of brutality takes no one aback, Kikyo disregards it as she makes her thoughts and feelings known to Illumi. 
“I’m disappointed in you, Illumi.” she states calmly, her hands tightly gripping her fan. Kalluto, who hadn’t spoken a single word throughout the entire ordeal, looks up at Illumi curiously. 
“I know.” Illumi simply replies.
Illumi’s nonchalance only serves to further provoke Kikyo. “Have you no honor for your family?!” she yells, glaring at Illumi. “Do you not care about how much you’re holding yourself back by wasting your time with that weak person?!”
“I’m not holding myself back, I’ll be fine.” Illumi casually crosses his arms.
Zeno soon parted after confirming there was nothing more to do, leaving only Silva, Kikyo, Illumi, and Kalluto in the living room. Kikyo was at a loss for words and she turned to Silva, expecting some kind of backup. Silva, however, continues to silently stare out of the window, watching the limo as it takes you away. 
You’re exhausted. You’ve never been exposed to Illumi’s aura for such a long period and you feel like you’re about to pass out. Huh, maybe that’s why Illumi decided to end things early. 
“I see that you look fatigued, Master (Name),” Shiori says as the limo begins the long drive back to the hotel, “I trust the dinner with the family went well.”
“Went well?!” you nearly shout despite your tired state, “I was insulted and stared at for the vast majority of it! Not to mention the overwhelming tension in the room, it was horrible!”
“While I understand the experience may have been unpleasant for you, it is important to note that no physical harm occurred to you. In that sense, the dinner went well.”
You let out a deep breath. “You’re just like Illumi sometimes, you know that?”
“I appreciate your observation.” Shiori responds, not sensing your mocking tone.
“That’s not a good thing.”
“It is understandable that you may not perceive our similar mindsets as a positive attribute.”
You merely groan and shut your eyes, resting your head against the door. Once you reach the hotel, Shiori escorts you inside. She ensures you’re set for the night before saying her farewells, leaving you alone in the suite. 
You would scream if you weren’t so tired right now. Instead, you change into your silk sleepwear and throw yourself into bed. It’s over with; you’re relieved. You turn on your side, hugging a pillow as you try to drift off to sleep. You hope this date ends soon.
Something was touching you. 
You’re a bit groggy as you stir, quickly realizing your movements were partially restricted. “Illumi?” you call out into the darkness.
“Did I wake you? Good.” he answers, voice uncomfortably close to your ear. You jump from the sudden closeness, causing him to tighten his grip briefly. After a moment, he audibly sighs; an uncommon sound from him. “You were rather brave during dinner tonight.” he spoke with his usual monotone voice, though it had a hint of exhaustion to it. 
“I didn’t do anything.” you say, shifting in his arms as you try to get comfortable once again.
“That’s the point. You didn’t pass out.”
“You were overwhelming me.” you complain as you think back to how ungodly cold and uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. The whole time leading up to the dinner, you thought his family was going to be the biggest threat to you. Illumi proved you wrong though, he was the biggest threat to you.
“You caught on quickly, I’m glad.” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “My mother scolded me when you left, saying you were weak and a waste of time. You shouldn’t worry about her, she won’t hurt you. None of them will.”
None of them except him.
You’re quiet as you think back to all of the things she’s said. You don’t feel any type of way about her comments, they were true after all. “Your mother is right, Illumi. You should listen to her.” you say, your gaslighting attempt made apparent.
“I know she is. It was my choice though, and I don’t regret it.”
He continues rambling about the discussion he had with both of his parents after your departure, but you don’t listen as you glance at the clock. It was two in the morning. Typical of him to wake you up at this hour to express his feelings, except this time he was allowing you to fall back asleep.
.
Day 5
.
Illumi was acting strange — stranger in a way you were used to at least. That much was apparent when you woke up to him standing next to the bed and staring at you, his hand gently caressing your cheek. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken up to him doing this though this instance felt much, much different. 
“Wake up, (Name).” Illumi commands in a softer tone of voice. You’re groggy as he’s allowed you to wake up in your own time these last few days. He begins gently poking your cheek, the pokes becoming more firm the longer it took for you to rise. “Today will be exciting. Get up.”
You yawn as you begrudgingly sit up, moving around Illumi to get off the bed as he didn’t think it was necessary to step out of your way. As you’re completing your morning routine, you are harshly reminded of Illumi’s proof of ownership on your finger, the jewelry twinkling in the light as if signaling you to its presence. You consider ripping it off and flushing it down the toilet, but as much as you wish to, you know better. By the time you walked out of the bathroom, Illumi was sitting up in bed, sleepwear still on. 
You scratch your head in confusion. “Why did you wake me up if you’re just going to hop back into bed?” you ask in an almost annoyed tone.
Illumi turns his head slightly in your direction, expression eerily innocent. “Breakfast is on the way, that’s why. Come back to bed.” when you fail to make any move, Illumi’s head slowly turns even more, his stare silently commanding you to obey. 
You tilt your head a bit before reluctantly moving to slide back into bed. You pull the blankets onto you and turn away from Illumi. 
“Don’t fall asleep.” he directs. He shifts, supposedly turning to face you. Your assumptions are confirmed when he turns you over onto your back. “We can talk while we wait if you need something to keep you up. How was your sleep last night?” his tone was still flat and boring despite returning to its softer version, only making you want to fall asleep even more. 
You respond nonetheless, “It was restrictive.”
As expected, Illumi is not a very good cuddle buddy. It’s like he’s trying to prevent you from escaping rather than lovingly holding you. You can’t wait to return to the estate. Not because you want to be there, but because you would have your solidarity again and not have to deal with Illumi’s overbearing nature.
“Restrictive? How so?” Illumi asked. He had moved a bit too close to you.
“I’d like to be able to move around and position myself properly at night.”
“Hm. I see.” Illumi leans forward slightly, invading your space even more. “If you’re sore, that’s a good thing. It will make our trip to the spa all the more special.”
You don’t respond as you focus your attention on the blank TV ahead. A massage does sound nice right about now. You rub your shoulder, you definitely slept on it wrong thanks to Illumi.
“It’s only polite to ask about my night’s sleep, (Name).” Illumi continues.
Humoring him for the sake of getting him to shut up, you respond, “How did you sleep?” 
He replies quickly, “I didn’t sleep.”
You gesture your hands in confusion, shaking your head. “Why do you always do this?”
“Do what?” Illumi tilts his head slowly, eyes boring into you.
“Have me ask you a question you don’t have a response to.”
He slowly straightens himself, but his expression remains unreadable. “Because I want to talk.” 
You cover your face with your hands, irritated Illumi had woken you just to have this stupid little back and forth with you. You had rolled back onto your side and before Illumi could turn you over once more, a knock could be heard at the door. You let out a deep breath, relieved as your prayers have been answered. 
Your eyes trail Illumi as he answers the door and brings in a service trolley. You’re sitting up now as he unfolds a mini bed tray and places it over you. You dramatically sigh when he sets a singular plate of food on the tray before sliding onto his side of the bed, the only fork available being held in his hand. 
“Must you do this every morning?” you ask, leaning away from him as he is sitting far too close to you.
“I could’ve done this every morning, but I didn’t. You’re only making up for yesterday.” the softness in his voice was long gone though he wasn’t upset — not enough to show it at least.
You ponder why he was so insistent on feeding you despite already having a good idea as to the answer. He probably thought it was a romantic gesture, which it is, but only with an actual lover rather than an erotomanic, crazed assassin. You can’t stand the way he stares so intently at you, especially at your lips, when he feeds you. You’re quick to turn your head away after each bite, quickly chewing and nearly swallowing the bites whole in an attempt to speed up the process. Illumi, however, takes his time, the sections of food on the fork getting smaller and smaller the more you rush. 
You watch as Illumi moves at a deliberately slow speed as he scoops up the last piece of food. He then grabs your chin firmly as he feeds you the last bite, his hold preventing you from turning away. You shut your eyes, swallowing the piece whole as you just wanted to be done with this. He doesn’t let go right away, however, his touch lingers for moments longer before he finally releases you. 
“You should get ready.” he says as he sets the fork on the empty plate. “You can get your clothes out of the wardrobe.”
You’re quick to move, your uneasiness being relieved now that there is some space between the two of you. You don’t even think about how he’s allowed you into the wardrobe for the first and only time throughout the entire duration of this so-called “romantic” date. You take your time as you look at all the options, Illumi cleaning up and pushing the service trolley out into the hallway. 
You change in the bathroom after finding a combination you like, Illumi is dressed as well by the time you come out. Your hands are in your pockets as you approach him by the door, not wanting your bodily autonomy ripped away even more by giving him the idea to hold your hand. 
He makes no move thankfully, and quietly leads you out of the hotel and into the Mercedes truck. 
Music was playing; you don’t know whether that’s good or bad anymore as any mood Illumi was in deemed to be bad for you. He’s speeding too, he seemed to be eager to get to his destination. Your grip on your seatbelt relaxes as he pulls into the spa’s parking lot. You take a second to collect yourself after experiencing Illumi’s reckless driving, sighing as he helps you out of the truck and leads you into the building. 
You don’t notice Shiori standing formally in front of the reception desk immediately upon entering, your attention focused on the beautifully decorated interior. Though it wasn’t anything super fancy, the simplicity and interior design still managed to captivate you.
“Good morning, Master Illumi and Master (Name).” your attention snaps to her and she bows her head. You nod in acknowledgment but Illumi doesn’t respond, he rudely walks off as Shiori continues speaking, “Master (Name), it is my pleasure to be able to serve you today. Please follow me to the changing room.”
You do so without question, eyes still looking around as you take in the calm atmosphere. Peaceful ambient music plays throughout the spa, you can already feel yourself relaxing as you manage to forget about Illumi’s existence. Now sporting a fluffy white robe with matching slippers, you sit on a reclining chair.
Shiori, now gloveless, gently applies various creams and masks onto your face, even going so far as to put slices of cucumbers over your eyes. Her hands move skillfully as she then gives you both a manicure and a pedicure.
“It’s nice to see you so relaxed, Master (Name).” Shiori speaks softly as she finishes up. “I only hope for this trend to continue. Please follow me to the massage room.”
You rub your palms together as you follow her, relishing how soft your hands, feet, and face feel. Now it was time to get rid of this crick in your shoulder. The massage room was small, though it felt just right. A singular bed sat in the middle of the room, two chairs off to the side, and a small table with a beautiful succulent on it placed in the corner. Thin, white curtains covered the glass wall, but see-through enough to allow the right amount of light in.
You undo your robe and lay belly down on the bed, Shiori then places a white towel over your lower half. “The masseur will be with you shortly. Please enjoy yourself.” Shiori says, bowing her head before departing.
You shut your eyes as you hear the door click shut. Your mind wanders as the near fantasy-type music plays. You imagine yourself in a fairytale garden, a small smile creeping onto your face as you watch fairies flutter in the air. A sign of life returning to your eyes causing you to laugh as you skip around. A magical butterfly lands atop a flower bud, causing the bud to bloom and release the most pleasant of fragrances. You gently hold the freshly flowered plant, careful not to damage it in any way. 
You were truly at peace — or so you deluded yourself. 
The door clicks open, ruining your dreams of being in a magical, happy place and snapping you back to reality. You glance back, then return your attention forward as you are met with the person you didn’t want to see: Illumi. 
“Hello, (Name).” he greets. You really didn’t want to hear his voice right now.
“Are you getting a massage too?” you inquire, waiting for him to make his way over to the two seats pushed up against the wall. He doesn’t, he merely shuts the door and walks over to you.
“Giving.” he corrects. You try to sit up upon hearing this, but Illumi pushes you back down just as quickly. “Relax. I will be gentle.”
“Wait-” you try to protest, but his actions cut you off. 
His hands move skillfully, moving with a perfect combination of firmness and delicacy as he begins working on your shoulders, slowly massaging the pain away. You shiver under his touch, hands gripping the bed as he rolls over various knots. 
“You’re full of tension. It seems you’ve been holding it in for quite some time, haven’t you, (Name)? Let me help you release all of that.” he pinpoints the exact spot that needs the most attention and applies pressure, causing you to groan. “You’re very responsive. I wonder what other sounds I can get out of you.”
You’re too caught up in the intensity of the massage to fully grasp what he had just said. If you could see Illumi’s face right about now, you would immediately know what was on his mind. His expression was still blank to the ignorant, but someone more knowledgeable about his behaviors would be able to detect the hint of libidinousness within his eyes. His eyes were rounder as they had been nearly all morning whenever they were focused on you. His touch gradually becomes more sensual as they move across your back, nearly threatening to venture into forbidden regions before he was able to catch and compose himself, remembering there was a time and a place. 
“Perhaps I should give you more massages like this from now on.” he speaks, his voice low and almost sultry.
You did enjoy the massage, you won’t lie, but you also don’t want Illumi to get comfortable with putting you in positions like this. Nevertheless, you choose not to respond, thinking in the future you would probably give in if the need were strong enough. You’re quick to turn opposite of him as you put your robe back on, your adrenaline nearly fading once you are covered. 
He says nothing further as he escorts you out of the room and into the small sauna. You sit in the corner, your eyes closed as you pretend Illumi isn’t sitting directly in front of you and staring. You cross your hands in front of you, the warmth of the steam eliminating any remaining soreness within your body.
Your time at the spa comes to an end as you’re now dressed and back in the car with Illumi. You stare out the window, noticing but not reacting to how Illumi constantly glanced at you as he drove. 
“We’re going to the museum.” he says, eyes now back on the road where they should be.
“Cool.” your tone is dull.
Illumi kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the drive though it seemed as if he wanted to say something more, that much evident in his slight frown. 
When you reach the museum, Illumi is quick to begin his unusually talkative behavior as he walks around the empty museum with you in tow. Your hands remain in your pockets, mind not really there as he gives one-sentence explanations on the museum’s various torture devices in his signature flat tone. You follow him like a kid following their parents who are out shopping, annoyed, and wanting to go home. It’s almost nostalgic in a way. 
Illumi notices your demeanor, as much as he tries to ignore it in hopes you’d drop it, and stops in his tracks, looking down at you. “Are you tired? We can take a break at the cafe if you’d like.”
You merely nod in response and he leads you to the cafe. You take your seat at a small table, not hesitating to eat when you are served a warm drink along with a snack. Illumi continues his staring habit, head resting in his hands as he observes you.
You’ve eaten your snack and are now focused on finishing your drink. You slowly sip the now lukewarm beverage, eyes focused on anything other than the man sitting across from you. 
“Feeling better now?” Illumi inquires.
You ignore his novel concern for you in favor of asking your own question, “When are we leaving?”
Illumi sits up. “Eager, are we? That’s good. The next activity would have to wait until later, though. We still have more time to spend here.”
“I meant when are we going back to Kukuroo Mountain?” you reiterate, setting your empty cup on the table.
You were, in fact, eager, but for a different reason than Illumi wanted. The day was moving too slowly for you, and Illumi’s presence was overwhelming even though he hasn’t released any aura since yesterday. You just wanted to be away from him and have time to relax and recharge. 
Though you hadn’t asked in a while, Illumi was fed up with your constant inquiries about returning to the mountain — also known as your way of rushing to end the date. Illumi was displeased, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re ungrateful. I’m trying to spoil you and all you’re concerned about is getting rid of me.”
“How so?” you ask, genuinely curious to see what kind of mental gymnastics Illumi went through to conclude that you were ungrateful.
“For starters, this entire date was designed to make you happy. I spent months planning and millions of yen buying all to ensure you’d enjoy it to the fullest. Even despite everything, despite considering your outlandish requests, you still remain unappreciative. What more do you want me to do?”
His response was exactly what you’d predicted. 
“Maybe let me go outside? Let me see my family again? Let me go entirely?” is what you would say if you were in a bolder, emotional state. Instead, you merely stare at him with an almost blank expression. 
Illumi’s voice grows cold. “You owe me something.”
“I’m sorry, Illumi.” you say flatly. You were always the one apologizing as Illumi is, of course,  never wrong about anything. 
Illumi calms himself, willing to forget your rude behavior in favor of ending the date on a good note. “Consider yourself fortunate, (Name), as I still wish for you to enjoy yourself. Who knows when you’ll be let out again, hm?” he pauses for a moment, allowing the silence to dramatize his previous words. He continues, “Let’s finish exploring the museum.”
And with that, Illumi rises out of his seat. You follow suit, both of you silent as you walk around the remainder of the museum. He didn’t bother with his one-sentence explanations anymore, not that you minded considering you weren’t listening to him anyway.
Eventually, the two of you leave, the car silent as Illumi drives. Despite the lack of music, Illumi wasn’t upset with you, but rather pensive. His attention continues to flicker over to you as he’d done earlier. For once, Illumi felt a ping of uneasiness. He was pleased with your compliance, sure, but he didn’t like your sudden unusual demeanor. You hadn’t asked a single question regarding the day’s activities like you had been doing in the past. 
After several minutes of silence, Illumi finally speaks, wanting to get you re-engaged. “The spa and the museum seemed to be to your taste, no?”
You rest your head against the door, still staring out the window. “Yeah.”
Illumi glances at you yet again, keeping his eyes off the road for even longer this time. “Good. As for our last activity, I have planned something unique.”
“Awesome.” your response was still short and dry. You didn’t fall for his attempt to prompt curiosity. 
Illumi frowns slightly as he listens to your incurious reply, his hold on the steering wheel temporarily tightening. “Your response lacks excitement and interest. It seems you couldn’t care less about what’s happening.”
“It’s not like you show enthusiasm either.” you say.
“I am very enthusiastic.” Illumi states unenthusiastically, his expression blank aside from his slight frown. “It’s overflowing.”
You merely hum in response which only furthers his discontent. Illumi, still insistent on keeping the mood light despite his annoyance, pushes his feelings aside. He remains quiet as he drives back to the hotel, his expression composed, though cold, and his eyes fixed on the road.
You thought he was being unusually emotional, he thought you were being dismissive. 
As Illumi helps you out of the truck for the final time, his grip on your hand remains firm. He leads you inside the hotel’s lobby, walking down a hall he’s never taken you before and into the grand ballroom. The ballroom was large, yet empty, with not a single person or piece of furniture in sight. The room felt liminal, the floor’s pattern the only thing giving it some personality. 
Illumi stands with you in the very middle of the room, attention focused on one of the far walls. “We are dancing.” he says, his voice slightly echoing in the room. 
You look around as if expecting a band or some sort of radio to magically appear. When it doesn’t, you turn to look back at Illumi. “In silence?”
Illumi slowly turns to face you, his demeanor off once again. His voice is low as he speaks, “No distractions, just us.”
His fingers intertwined with your own before pulling back, essentially pulling you into him. You’re caught off guard by the sudden contact despite mentally preparing yourself for it, especially with how slowly his other hand settles around your waist. Illumi then leans in, his head next to yours as he whispers into your ear, “Just follow my lead.”
The dance, if you could even call it that, goes exactly how you had expected — unpleasant — for you at least as Illumi was clearly enjoying himself. It felt like he was rubbing against you too much despite his gracefulness, performing moves that would optimize maximum contact with you. His actions became increasingly assertive as the dance went on, his grip on you tightened and the hand on your waist shifting lower and lower. 
His movements were surprisingly elegant, you never would’ve expected someone like Illumi to be this good at dancing. You tried to mirror him, the only music heard being your echoing footsteps and the ringing of complete silence. You’re unable to meet his strange and foreign gaze, the roundness of his pupils reminding you of some sort of alien. Maybe he was an alien, that would make a whole lot of sense. 
He’s almost melting into you like he was trying to merge both of your bodies, his touch gradually becoming more intimate and amorous. 
“Illumi.” you call out.
The hand on your waist returns to its original position, his grip slightly looser and a little space being allowed between the two of you. As his movements slow and the dance comes to an end, Illumi firmly holds you in place, almost hugging you. His head rests next to yours, his eyes closed as he savors this moment. 
He then pulls away, stepping back as he looks down at you with a near-amatory gaze. He says nothing, and neither do you, as his attention shifts towards the ballroom’s door before falling back on you. “It’s getting late.” his gentle hold on your shoulders slid down to your upper arm. “Let’s go to dinner.”
You slowly nod and walk with him as he makes his way to the hotel’s restaurant. You keep your gaze lowered as a butler serves your meal, Illumi lacking one of his own. His intense stare remains fixed upon you as you eat, his eyes never wavering from you, even when you make your nervousness clear. It was like he was trying to burn your image into his memory, every detail of your form being seared into his mind. 
He looked hungry which made the absence of food before him even more bizarre. 
“Aren’t you hungry? Why aren’t you eating?” you ask. You didn’t mean to express concern for him, just wanting to know why he was acting so strange.
Illumi shakes his head slightly. “I’m not hungry for food.”
His words left no room for misinterpretation yet you managed to be completely oblivious as to what Illumi was hinting at, your mind more focused on finishing your meal so you could escape his direct attention. 
“Enticing.” Illumi suddenly says in an almost whisper, more so speaking to himself than to you. “Tempting.”
You look up at him. “Huh?”
His words hang in the air, and his eyes widen slightly. He doesn’t respond further and his gaze manages to intensify. There are pieces of you that remain enigmatic to him and he craves to understand your intricacies. To understand you is to possess you, and he yearns to possess you completely.
He’s as still as a statue, his eyes as watchful as a camera. You can’t read his expression or decipher his mood, his lips pressed into a thin line as if unsure whether to hint at a smile or a frown. When was the last time he blinked? You can’t stand him. 
With your meal finally completed, the moment arrives for you to return to the suite. Illumi rises out of his seat gracefully, his hand extended as a silent invitation. You’re disinclined, but you take it nonetheless, eyes focused on the ground as he leads you out of the restaurant. Illumi’s expression returns to its usual calmness, though his quick pace and eager movements betray his facade. 
After entering the suite and locking the door behind him, Illumi hands you your pajamas, his hands moving in a way to ensure they touch yours. You don’t react, only locking yourself in the bathroom before you change clothes, tossing your dirty ones into the hamper. Your eyes trail to the ring on your finger yet again. You were vexed that the ring was so beautiful, so expensive, as its beauty was tainted by the story behind it. 
As you step out of the bathroom, you find Illumi changed and sitting up in bed. He’s, of course, staring at you, and the TV’s light softly illuminates the room. It was on a very low volume, however, rendering you unable to make out what was playing.
Your steps are slow and calculated as you make your way to your side of the bed, eyes glued to the TV as an excuse to ignore Illumi’s gaze. You made sure to leave a generous amount of space between the two of you but it didn’t matter as Illumi moved closer to you.
“You enjoyed yourself today. That’s good.” he said. It was more of a confirmation to reassure himself than a question in need of your input. He pauses for a minute, eyes focused on the near-silent TV. “We’ll be going back home tomorrow.”
Your heart flutters in excitement, but you keep yourself composed, eyes still focused on what the TV is showing you. “Is… this the only time you’ll do something like this?” you ask, a bit hesitant to ask your question as you didn’t want him to interpret it as you wanting to spend more time with him. 
Illumi contemplates your question, eyes still focused ahead of him. ”It would depend on your level of appreciation.” his answer was left intentionally vague as he didn’t want to commit to a single answer. 
“So you’ll do it again?” you glance at him. 
After a moment of deliberation, Illumi slowly turns to look at you, pupils now freakishly round. “I could be convinced.”
You look away from him, turning your attention to the TV for the final time. You then shift under the covers, turning onto your side and away from Illumi as you try to find a comfortable sleeping position.
Sitting up even more and scooting closer to you, Illumi removes the covers off of you and places a hand on your hip. “Don’t go to sleep just yet.” he calls out. “We still have some time to spend together.”
“I want to sleep.” you state, your eyes remaining closed as you try to ignore his touch. 
He ignores your declaration. “I want to talk,” he states quietly, voice carrying a hint of determination, “I have something I need to tell you.”
You feel his hand gently squeeze you, though you don’t react to it. “You’re free to talk.”
“Perfect.” his hold on your hip tightens as he flips you over onto your back, moving you in front of him and claiming his position between your legs. His face is perfectly shadowed yet perfectly illuminated as his eyes devour your figure beneath him. 
His hands move to hold your waist, the intensity in his eyes softening slightly as he speaks. “(Name).” he says, his tone displaying a sense of vulnerability and primal need. “I want you.”
You’re merely frozen in the submissive position he’s put you in, eyes wide in shock at his confession. You’ve stirred unfamiliar feelings within him, emotions new yet powerful enough to consume him.
He leans down closer to you, placing a hand right next to your head for support while the other remains on your waist. “You’ve been tormenting me all this time, teasing me yet averse to the idea of giving in to me.”
Your hands hesitate before moving and gently grabbing his wrists, your head turning to the side as a sign of shyness and embarrassment. His eyes soften in adoration, realizing his words' effects on you. 
“(Name).” he murmurs, savoring each syllable on his tongue as if it held the sweetness he strongly desired. “Give yourself to me.” his command lined with velvet, a gentle yet firm request for your willing submission.
“Illumi…” is all you say, unable to think of a coherent response after being put on the spot like this.
The hand on your waist moves to hold your jaw, tethering on the edge of gripping your throat, as he pulls you into a weirdly passionate kiss. He pulls you in closer as he deepens the kiss, his body further pressing into you, and his desires let loose, making themselves increasingly obvious to you. 
The weight of Illumi’s control oddly arousing as he made his dominance over you painfully clear, leaving no room for doubt or confusion. You tremble in shock from the kiss, causing him to quietly hum and fuel his desire.
He finally pulls away, eyes undoubtedly filled with lust as he looks down at the beauty before him. “Every part of you will bear the mark of my desire.” he whispers as he leans down toward your neck, hand now interlaced with your own as the other trails back down to hold your hip. “I’ll make it so that you never forget who you belong to.”
Shit.
Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?
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lolita-lollipop · 5 months ago
Note
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO YANDERE CHROLLO
Romance novels
Chrollo Lucifer x reader
Where Chrollo comes home, and you aren't there.
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Warnings: Violence, cursing, yandere tendencies, Stockholm syndrome
The house was too quiet. Not that it was ever truly loud, you tended to keep to yourself even when he did prompt a conversation, you had a soft voice and a quiet nature of living, something he admired about you. Even so, as much as you wished he couldn't, he would always be able to tell where you were. He was hyperaware of your existence, of course he was.
So, coming back to the fancy apartment that served as your cage, to see no lights on, hear no footsteps, to not hear the soft pitter patter of your heartbeat, or the near silent sound of your breathing in another room. The apartment was far too quiet. And something had to be very wrong here.
Chrollo had been out for a week now , leaving you with a fully stocked fridge, a TV with any movie or show you would ever need to watch, and a phone that could only ever call him, or machi in the case of emergency. You were also left with one of the best security systems in the world, a stainless steel door that would only ever unlock with his fingerprint, and windows that were securely locked. Even so... walking in to the luxury apartment, it was clear that you had not been present for at least two or three days, and even worse, it was even more evident that you had not left willingly.
As he walked through the apartment, seeing the shattered vase of flowers he had gotten you before he had left, crushed glass littering the floors from the broken mirrors across the hallways, handprints and scratch marks lining the walls, and a large puddle of blood on the floor followed by a long trail where you clearly had been dragged. He realized that this was intentional, whoever did this wanted him to see your struggles, see our fingernails torn out from trying to scratch against the walls, be able to see exactly where they hurt you. Anyone who could get into this high security building, especially without him knowing, could kidnap a weak girl like you without any struggle or mess. This was personal, this was against him.
Slowly approaching the phone, he saw the cord had been ripped out of the wall, with the microphone piece thrown across the room, it had bloody fingerprints on numbers he could easily recognize as the start of his own phone number. You had tried and failed to call for help, to call him for help. Fuck. Fuck Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Chrollo Lucifer is not an impulsive nor an emotional man. He never has been one to get frustrated nor fearful, and he has certainly never been in a situation where panic would cloud his usually steady decision making process.
But here, now, his hands were shaking, his breathing heavy, and his heart was threatening to launch out of his chest. The thought of you, the one he was so terrifyingly in love with, the only person in the world who could make him feel something other than hate for the world, precious little you who couldn't harm a fly- the thought of you in the hands of one of his enemies (which as you could guess, he has a lot of), attacked and scared and barely able to speak up for yourself, let alone fight back. The thought alone had his eyes tearing up and his voice wavering as he called the troupe for a meeting, which was quite the rare event in itself.
They would pay. He would make sure they
Would.
---
It wasnt long before every single member of the troupe was standing in this apartment, they knew to be punctual, especially when chrollo sounded as pissed of as he did on the phone. Everybody knew you, at least knew about you. The only who had actually met you was machi, even then the word spread quick that you were to be protected with their lives if you were ever in danger, and their spot in the troupe was forfeited otherwise.
So here they were, sittting in your bloody living room, staring at the crime scene with such a sharp stare it could cut you. Nobody dared to even speak, Chrollo had never looked so angry. It wasn't often anybody had the balls to steal from them, especially something as priceless as you. All 13 of the spiders looked to chrollo for guidance, all of them knew how this would end. hundreds of people would die tonight, they all could only hope that you weren't included in that number.
A loud ping from Chrollos phone broke the heavy silence of the room. Nobody but you and the troupe had this number. And they were all standing right in front of him.
He was swift with checking his messages, coming from an unknown number.
“1,000,000,000,000 jenny. Or the girl dies.”
Sent 9:23 PM
The thought alone made his heart stop, he hadn’t even realized the phone had been crushed in his hands before the glass began to cut into his calloused skin. He wasn’t an idiot, criminals, scum like him would never let you go, even if he was to pay the price. They would see your value and hold you tight. You would be coming back into his arms tonight, but not through payment. He wanted to see blood.
“Shalnark. Track my messages, find where it came from. Everybody else, be prepared to kill. This will be an in and out, if you see someone who isn’t us, they die. Are we clear?” He wanted blood, countless bodies needed to lay at his feet just for taking you out of his sight. They were idiotic Neanderthals, messing with him, who was undoubtedly the most powerful nen user in the world. Let alone messing with the troupe, combined they could do anything. Kill anything.
They would pay. An eye for an eye. They took you, so he would take their lives. Seems fair.
He found himself sat in your usual spot on the couch while the rest of the troupe lounged around the apartment. His hand met the top of one of those silly books you enjoyed reading, the ones where the protagonist gets a super power and falls in love with the enemy. He always poked fun at you, told you how you should be reading more mature texts. He would always buy them for you though, anything to make you happy. Had you been reading when they had taken you? He couldn’t imagine.
Little defenseless you cuddled on the couch with a blanket and a book,just to be snatched and bound and terrified. You were too good, you probably didn’t put up enough of a fight, you were probably too scared to hit them where it would hurt. It’s why he kept you here, to keep you safe, what good that did for him. He sad in the couch , head in his hands. Such an abnormal thing for a man like him, it had the sorrounding troupe wondering who you really were.
You had to be something special for the one and only chrollo Lucifer to be so torn up about your well being. Chrollo has watched millions of people die, too many to even try counting, so one person should be forgettable. But you, special you, had chrollo functioning out of wack.
“753 crescenta lane, the apartment building on the left, three floors up apartment number 628” the second the words left shalnarks mouth as he typed away on his laptop, chrollo shot up from his seat, crescenta lane. A street far in the slums of the city,riddled with poverty and crime. Only a couple streets away from where he grew up, the outskirts of meteor city. Not a place for a soft thing like you to be. Not a place for any of his things to be, not anymore.
The rest followed as he quickly made his way out to the cars, heart rate slowing, excitement growing for revenge. He was prepared to do the utmost worst things he could ever do. Whoever did this deserved to suffer. To scream and cry and call for help while he tore them apart.
Oh you poor thing. You don’t understand the effect you have on him. He is never the violent one, that’s supposed to be feitan. Nor is he supposed to be the angry one, that’s uvogin. He just needed you back. Now.
———
-Y/n-
You weren’t really sure what had happened to you. One second you were on the couch, a cup of tea in your hand, and a new novel in the other. When you felt a little pinch in the back of your neck, your fingers went numb first, that’s how you knew something was very very wrong here. You could slightly remember going to the phone, and then being yanked back. Your head hit something, That must be why your neck hurts so bad. Before you knew it you couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t even breath. You remember something picking you up by the wrists and tossing you into the trunk of a car. From there on you mustve either been asleep or heavily zoned out. You couldn’t remember anything other than the roar of a loud engine.
You didn’t know much here
But you did know this was not your home
It smelled like mildew combined with unfiltered sewer water. The air was hot and dense, feeling heavy on your shoulders and in your lungs, and the feeling, oh the feeling. You had been barefoot when they had taken you, and here you were propped up in an uncomfortably rigid metal or wooden chair. As your bare feet felt the ground it was harsh concrete. It was so rough and cut up that it left a cut at the bottoms of your feet, there was something wet in the ground, if you could see you would assume it was blood.
Your neck was aching more than you could handle at the moment, your hands and arms were still numb from whatever drug that was floating through your bloodstream. You could barely muster up the strength to breath shallowly, let alone feed your lungs the air that was much needed. the lack of air combined with the lack of feeling in your body left your brain to feel fuzzy and understimulated. You hadn’t left the house in what felt like years, the familiar smell of vanilla (your favorite candles chrollo kept buying) being ever so absent freaked you out. Familiarity was comforting, and here you had absolutely none of it.
There was the quiet dripping of a faucet in the distance, maybe a leaky pipe or ceiling, the scuttle of a rat or two made you jump. You were below ground, maybe a basement, just by the way the air was denser and heavier. You used to be very observant, you haven’t had to think like this in a long time. Chrollo never gave you the chance.
That leaves the big question up in the air.
Would chrollo do something like this to you?
You have always known that he wasn’t the most stable individual, no matter how collected he might seem on the outside. There was always something complex going on, not that you ever had the brain or the care to figure it out. Thus far he hadn’t made any move to harm you, actually quite the opposite, he had always shown care, love even. You didn’t think he would do something like this.
You surely hoped he wouldn’t. You had known he was a criminal for quite some time now, and judging by his lavish lifestyle he was a bad one. You don’t get this rich by being nice. You also don’t kidnap people. If this was him, if he was the reason you were here, you were in for much worse than you could anticipate.
You should be more freaked out, it would be totally normal for you to be very very freaked out right now. Especially with how high strung you had become since moving in (being taken) with chrollo. A combination of sedatives and shock had your brain going in circles endlessly. Likely distracting from the impending doom you knew was to come.
Your head was basically off of your shoulders, floating up in space, to the point that you hadn’t even realized the heavy footsteps of a person entering the room. The crinkling of some kind of plastic, the clanking of metal.
What brought you back to earth was the feeling of a bag being pulled over your head.
A strangled gasp left your lips as the bag got tighter, a hand circling around your neck to fasten it. Confusion flowed freely through your veins as the hand released your neck and you were able to freely breathe once more. You didn’t know much, but if they were trying to suffocate you, shouldn’t you not be able to breathe? You heard the click of a camera turning on, likely for a video, before you were tipped back to be lying down on what felt like a medical metal table.
It was quiet, aside from your mumbles and moans of protest. It was quiet.
Then the water came.
It was like it was out of no where, the gag stuffed in your mouth was soaked with it in seconds, hefty splashes of water covering you and the bag over your head. You lied there in confusion for a few moments, not completely understanding what was happening. Whoever was doing this to you had yet to say anything, leaving you blindsided.
You tried to stay calm, you really did. But when the rag in your mouth soaked all the way through, and you realized you could no longer breath, panic seared off all of your calm nerves.
You’d never even thought of death, not once, not even in chrollos home. But here, but now , all you could think about was how you were going to die. How this was it, how your light was fading. How you couldn’t breathe how you couldn’t breathe. Oh god you couldn’t breathe.
You tried to thrash around, but your arms wouldn’t move, neither would your legs, all you could do was scream and thrash your head, if that. You feintly heard the sound of laughter past the bag, past the water. Were they laughing at you? Psychos. Fucking psychos. They were sitting here giggling while you slowly drowned. Fuck this. Fuck them. You hoped they would choke and die with you.
Fuck fuck fuck
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
Fuck this
Abruptly, the bag was ripped off your head, and the rag out of your mouth. The sounds of laughter continued as you sat there and cried. Heavy sobs left your mouth, if your hands were alive they would probably be shaking right now. The sound of a cameras click reverberated through the room, before the heavy footsteps getting quieter, then the slam of a door. You were left alone, cold, wet, and sniffling. What were you going to do? You were tied up, you couldn’t see, could barely think. They could do anything they wanted to you, and you would just have to let them. Oh god, this really was it wasn’t it. You were a gonor. And nobody would know where you were, not even chrollo.
Video sent 10:40 PM
Read 10:41 pm
———
-Chrollo-
They were On the way to your location when his phone buzzed again, this time with the notification of a video. He had asked pakunoda to watch it before him, in the case of the worst . He didn’t want to be the first one to know, otherwise everybody in this car might end up dead in his rage of a reaction. The woman politely grabbed his phone and viewed the video, the volume on low.
He could still hear it, hear your cries, your begging and whimpering. God he was going to obliterate everything in that building, and take you to the safest facility out there. Everyone around the small communication device looked tense as they watched it. Mainly because chrollo was tense enough for all of them.
They were used to torture and blood and all of the above, however not on people they liked, or at least on on people the boss liked. They have never been on the receiving end of the aftereffects, and they had absolutely no clue how to deal with it.
No doubt, it was something they would see as minor torture, but because it was you, it was nothing but major. Chrollo tried to be collected, tried not to show how much he truly cared. But the slow cracks of his knuckles and the tapping of his foot showed the members that he was anything but calm right now. He was out for blood, itching to get his hands back on you and hold you and love you and clean your wounds and keep you forever. He couldn’t wait to rip their organs about and then make them eat them, tear their eyeballs out and send it to their families, make them watch all of their colleagues find and slow gruesome death.
He was ready to spill blood by the time they had arrived, the malice in his energy making the air feel heavy and unbreathable, not anything special for the troupe around. But absolutely unbearable for any average passerby.
They were silent as the air itself as they entered the building through an open window, absolutely undetectable, even uvogin who was usually loud and blusterous. The tensions were high, bloodlust even higher. A majority couldn’t help but feel passionate over you, the boss was excited (a rare occurrence) so why wouldn’t the rest of them be?
It was calm in the building one second, the next, it was like a whole different dimension.
The screaming overpowered any other noise around, once the troupe had split up it had all began. The tearing of limbs, the cutting of heads, the more reckless members used their bare hands to pull people apart, the calmer ones settling for weapons. And chrollo, chrollo was different. Usually diplomatic till the inevitable death of his victims, he was now a cold killer, not even caring about conversation. The building was sweeped in minutes, dead bodies littering every nook and cranny. But still no you, they must’ve known that the troupe would come, you must be in high security.
“Where is she” the book master chrollo hissed, the collar of a man’s shirt bunched in one hand as he lifted him off the ground, mildly choking him. He looked petrified while looking into chrollos eyes, rightfully so. The man was covered head to toe in blood, sorrounded in a room of dead bodies.
“I-can’t tell you” chrollos grip began to tighten around his neck, beginning to crush his wind pipe.
“I may consider letting you free, letting you walk out if you were to answer. I’ll ask again. Where. Is. She.” He hissed once more, his grip brutally tight. The man looked fearful, his eyes flicking from one end of the room to the other , maybe to check for witnesses of his crime, maybe to check for his possible fate. Either way, he gave up to chrollos tight grip and empty promises.
“There’s a small door in the floor three rooms to the left of here, once you enter that door, you’ll have to search for a metal rimmed door with a lock. She’s in there. C-can I leave now?” The man stuttered out. Quivering in his grasp, chrollo let him go immediately after he answered, pulling his book out of his pocket. He gave a calculating glance to the short man, grimacing.
“You took too long to answer”
The man was splattered on the wall before he could even scream
———
-y/n-
It had been hours since the man was last in here, and the air had only gotton colder and wetter. Your clothing seemed to never dry and instead stay damp and frigid. They must have intentionally made it freezing in here, knowing that you would be lying down in the cold wet medical bed. You contemplated sleep, but eventually decided against it as you might wake up to some even stranger form of torture. So you sat, and you waited. You wanted to cry, but it seemed no energy was left in you to even let a tear drop roll your check. you also contemplated screaming, begging for your safety. bargaining, telling them how you were kidnapped before. But were again halted by doubt and exhaustion. it came to a point where you just lied down, still cold and ever so wet, and dry heaved. unable to cry, unable to scream, only able to sadly breathe. it felt like days, weeks even that you sat there wallowing in self pity and fear.
Then the screaming started.
At first it was just a faint buzzing in the air, something you wouldn’t been able to hear had you not been blindfolded and forced to listen as intently as possible. Then, it got louder, to the point where you could tell it was human cries, and a lot of them. Once it was loud enough to hear individual cries for help. You began to question, what is going on up there, did somebody invade, is there some kind of war… did somebody come to save you?
you tried to push out the thought, hope made you weak. made you sad once it was crushed. If chrollo had taught you anything, he had taught you that.
You tried at first to block them out, but eventually gave up as they were far too loud and far too constant to ignore. Instead, you opted to listening to what they were saying, there was the occasional “somebody please”, or a "help me". You found yourself intrigued once it got quieter and you started to hear the more specific cries of "We don't know where she is" or "we didn't know she was yours". You forced yourself to swallow that hope once more, secretly wishing for a knight in shining armor, even if it was chrollo. At least he wasn't water boarding you and laughing through the process, at least he was kind and calculated and loving. well shit, what a crazy situation to make even you believe chrollo was the good guy.
you had already been fearful when the screaming was loud, echoing through the empty room.
but when it went silent? thats when the real fear kicked in.
you werent an idiot, you knew whatever it was, even if it wasn't in your favor, was going to comb through this entire building, they must be looking for something. wether they were looking for you or not simply didn't matter, somebody was going to find you.
the fear that it could be your demise brought out that last bit of energy you needed in order to cry. And once more, you were in tears again. they only got worse as heavy footsteps found their way coming closer and closer, loud slams signifying doors being blown open. whoever this was, was not the man who was in here earlier, you could feel power radiating off them, and they were loud, and clearly big, noisier than the man from before. you were holding your breath by now, hoping to either not be heard, or pass out. either way you would not meet this man face to face.
just your luck though, presumably the metal door (you were still blindfolded and couldn't tell what it was) was ripped off its hinges, the sound screeching through the once-quiet room. it was thrown to the floor with a loud slam, and you were dumbfounded by the pure bloodlust radiating off this man, you could basically smell it in the air. you tried to peek through the blindfold to no avail. and once more found yourself in tears. you had found your arms slightly mobile by now, and were struggling with al your might, screaming, whimpering,and crying. anything to get you out. surprisingly, whoever this was had not harmed you, hadn't put you out of your misery. either they were winding up their power, or waiting till the time was right. tension settled in the room.
"uh-boss, I found her"
The voice was much closer than you had anticipated, causing you to jump a couple inches off of the seat. The blindfold was torn off your head in one fell swoop, leaving you squinting and unable to see clearly, a large man was standing in front of you, that much was obvious. He was staring, not in a creepy way you had grown used to in the presence of chrollo, but in a “what the hell do I do” kindof way. Like he had to make a decision but also didn’t want to touch you, most of all he looked at you like you would break if he so much as spoke too loud.
The silence and staring came to an abrupt end when you were able to hear quiet footsteps in the hallway, followed by chrollos familiar face. Albeit it was covered in blood, however still recognizable. It was like your world had just, stopped. Came to a screeching halt leaving you and chrollo there with locked eyes and a bit too much love for somebody who had been kidnapped multiple times over now. You had never thought that seeing him would make your heart slow, make your breathing become even, make your nerves fizzle into nothing. At first you had believed that he was the worst thing to ever happen to you. But here, but now
When he wrapped his arms around you like never before, holding you tighter and closer than usual. His smell drowned the coppery stench of blood out, leave your arms to squeeze him back for the first time ever. You don’t even remember how your restrains were taken off, but it didn’t even seem to matter as his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you tighter. Maybe you could love chrollo, maybe you already did.
“I want to go home” you muttered, finding his hand and squeezing. You lifted your head up, finding the watching eyes of a couple others in the room. You weren’t used to people anymore, it was strange seeing so many, seeing that they saw you. You wanted away, to go home and be happy, although you were greatful to them for helping, for saving you. Strangely enough, the thought never crossed your mind to ask for help, wether it was because you figured out they were with chrollo, or that you simply didn’t care.
As he hooked his arm underneath your Knees and lifted you up, cradling you like a child. You would usually complain, but you won’t. This felt too nice. Your eyes found themselves fluttering shut as your hand interlocked with his, he squeezed. Thsi was safe, he was safe. That was the last thing you were able to think before you fell deeply and uncaringly unconscious.
How things have changed
With a quick flick of his wrist he opened the same phone that got him into this situation, and with a snide smirk tapped with his free hand. Thank god this was over. And you were his again.
Fuck you
Sent 4:37 AM
———————————————————————
There’s a lack of chrollo content, if anybody has any recs plz send them lol.
Have a great day, bye.
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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months ago
Text
Yandere Illumi Zoldyck Headcannon Pt. I
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Illumi is the type to be so unfamiliar with a simple crush he thinks he’s bewitched when he keeps thinking of you
So when he diverts from his trip home after a successful job it's completely logical
He’s just trying to release himself from this hex
He might even recruit Hisoka 
he’s so sure of it
Whether you’re hanging around Killua and Gon or just hanging out in a city where he was working he makes his way to you
With tons of plans up his sleeves, he goes in
Only to freeze on the spot when you look him in his eyes
“Uhm can I help you?”
“....”
Hisoka’s intervention is the only thing that will save him
Physically shaking the man’s gaze is the only way he starts functioning again
Hisoka will have a good laugh 
But his family wouldn’t 
Whether it's a worldwide disaster that brings the heads of the Zoldyck family together and you're a fighter
or just investigating on their own they’ll bear witness to it
The way you arrive on the scene and Illumi.exe just stops workin
Of course, you don’t notice that the assassin is just wigging out because you’re (inadvertently) talking to him
When they do realize you’re not putting him under some spell 
And he’s just weird
They encourage him to just have you take you if necessary
Whether that’s abducting civilian-you or trying to defeat you on a wager to marry him
All that advice goes out the window because he can’t even talk to you
He doesn’t know the embarrassment 
He doesn’t know butterflies in the stomach
Not until you
You suddenly become this onus that baffles him in every which way
Whether you’re strong enough and aware enough to confront him
Or have little to no use of nen and have no idea who he is
He won’t be able to do anything until he’s able to handle you
But why would he ever 
He loves you 
Even if you’re making him seem like some incompetent lobotomite
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animeyanderelover · 6 months ago
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Can I have headcanons with pregnant reader, please? With Alucard and Captain from Hellsing, Gojo and Sukuna from JJK, Meruem from HxH, Sawada Tsunayoshi and Byakuran from KHR.
I already did Pregnancy Hc's with Gojo before.
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, isolation, forced pregnancy, inhuman pregnancy, cannibalism, afab reader, birth
Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama
Pregnancy Hc's
Meruem
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👑​Meruem's circumstances of birth were rather unique, even for a Chimera Ant. Born prematurely by forcing himself out of the amniotic sac, he already had everything needed to conquer his new territory. He truly is the born king with his powers and the frightening intellect to match that as he possesses a high learning ability and continues even today to only grow stronger with each passing day. He is the King and he was born with the mindset of one, indeed the perfect offspring his mother had hoped him to be. As much as he sees himself as the superior being who stands above everyone else, nature has a force even he can't control as his biology eventually catches up to him. As a King he has a duty to breed and it is an instinct deeply woved within his DNA. It is this primal need that calls out to him when he names you as his mate, as unfitting as someone like Pouf sees you. What could you possibly give the King after all, a mere servant in the Royal Palace who Meruem spared for reason now obvious? There is some consideration Meruem gives you though as he informs you of the nature of his kind and that both of you have a duty to fulfill.
👑​The news of your pregnancy are of no surprise to the handful of people allowed to be even within vicinity of you. Meruem's mood has been highly sexual since a while now, his tail always flicking around as soon as he can sense you and most of his time spent with you in the private chambers. All Royal Guards sense the tiny presence within you and instantly their duty to guard you heightens. Even Shaiapouf, the one who dislikes you the most, finds himself acting on his instincts to protect the next heir. The situation is rather unique again though as everyone wonders how this will play out. You are a mere human whilst Meruem is biological perfection. His own birth was nothing like what a regular human pregnancy would have looked like and there is some tension as no one can exactly help themselves from wondering what would happen if the fetus would have a similar development as he had. The primary medic assigned to you is Pitou with their Nen-ability but as they are still a Chimera Ant, Meruem sends for a human doctor who has lots of experience with human pregnancy. Their company will be needed for as long as it takes and if they want to leave alive, they better be useful.
👑​Meruem learns quickly from the information the doctor shakily tells him, memorising and understanding the human anatomy within only a little time as he also reads books on it. There is an undeniable fascination when he approaches you after everything has been learned, clearly sensing the presence you carry inside of you. He has always been someone who has preferred you within sight to satiate his possessive desires but his need to have you with him increases now that you carry his offspring. There are only few inches of distance between the two of you as you have to accompany him wherever he goes. His tail likes to be wrapped around your form as it eases his mind and you remember clearly how he has used the very same tail to behead others as if it were nothing which always puts your nerves a bit on edge when you feel it around your body. Only Komugi is allowed to spend time with you next to the Royal Guards as her presence has always eased your mind a bit as she is the only human you know of. She can soothe your mind in ways Meruem can't as she expresses her congratulations when she finds out whilst still reassuring you when you tell her about your worries.
👑​Time tells quickly that whilst there is a bigger resemblance to a human pregnancy as you nurture his heir in your womb, his genes are still having a visible effect in the development of the baby. It grows rather fast as everyone of the Royal Guards and the King can tell that the presence grows stronger and larger every day. It is rather demanding on your body as the little one demands lots of nutrition and energy which increases your hunger significantly. You feel ravenous nearly all of the time as Meruem sees it through that you receive whatever you are craving to ensure that your body remains strong and healthy enough to care for his offpsring as well as for yourself. Even human flesh is served to you, the only time where you find yourself hesitating, shaking your head as you push the plate away. It isn't hard to see through you though. You are clearly desiring to taste the bloody, raw flesh of your own kind yet your consciousness holds you back. You're rather stubborn as he tries to reason with you that it is the desire of the offspring urging you to feed on your own kind and that you need the nutrition which ultimately leads him to force you to devour the human flesh.
👑​Your consciousness struggles as you are fed with human flesh throughout the pregnancy as the Royal Guards especially hunt down those with Nen to ensure that Meruem's heir will consume their abilities and their strength to be born strong. Your body changes fast and only a few months after conceiving, your stomach is already heavy and swollen with a child. Meruem is rather enthralled with the transformation your body has gone through, even if your constant fatigue and tiredness have made him even more protective of you. He hasn't left you out of his sight for more than a few minutes since the start of your pregnancy and then you are normally always surrounded by two of the Royal Guards, Pitou always with you as their King has given them the duty to cater to your health and needs. Other Chimera Ants within the palace are vaguely aware that the King will have a new heir but none of them have ever seen you or else they wouldn't be alive anymore. Pitou and Komugi are the only ones next to the traumatised human doctor who are even allowed to touch your stomach and that only when Meruem allows it. Otherwise his hands are the only ones running fascinated over your bulge.
👑​Anyone who dares to step too close to you without his permission instantly receives a hit with his tail. The fetus already has a strong Nen presence within you and even Pouf praises you for managing to exceed his expectations for what he thought he would be capable to carry, although his rude mouth earns him a punishment from Meruem who is highly displeased with his unwarranted remark. Despite your huge fear that the baby would destroy you from the inside like Meruem did with his mother, its movements are surprisingly gentle most of the time and Meruem reveals to you that the fetus is quite in tune with your feelings and even seems to possess an awareness of its own strength and your fragile body. You enter your labor roughly 5 months after conceiving but everyone has been expecting that much already, especially since the fetus seemed to signal it through its Nen and Meruem is with you as he wants to witness the birth of his heir, the swishing of his tail a warning to the human doctor to make no mistake as them and Pitou assist you. The son you birth him fills him with pride, a fascinating mix of your hair and eyes yet with the same green exoskeleton he has.
Alucard
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🩸​Alucard is a man you have only ever known as a creature of darkness and fear, as a monster that hoards you and keeps you for his own desires. There is no escape from the man in red, his eyes always following you wherever you go even if you might not see him anywhere around you. There are no secrets you can keep, no emotions you could hide from him as those glowing eyes seem to be able to look into the deepest bottom of your soul that even you do not know about. That is why he knows about the tiny life inside of you before it even has a heartbeat of its own. A little blop that doesn't even have a shape yet but it is this tiny thing that shakes him to his core. His mind drifts away to a place so far away that it may as well be found in a different world, red eyes glowing as he reminisces about something only he knows about. You do not know what it is he is seeing but for the first time you see something very vulnerable in his hazy orbs as he stares through you. When you decide to hesitantly call out his name, his eyes regain their focus and zoom in on your stomach. You still don't understand, not until he suddenly kneels down in front of you and presses his forehead against it.
🩸​He withdraws himself from everything for a while as he doesn't reveal to even Integra what has happened. Seras with her vampire abilities catches on faster but when Alucard gives her a silent look, she understands and keeps quiet about it until he himself decides to inform his master. There is only him and you for a few weeks where he has gone oddly silent, although not in a way that would make you uncomfortable. Something has changed since the day he has found out about your pregnancy. You have seen this a few times before, a raw vulnerability he has only ever shown around you. But never before have you seen it to this extent before as there is a newfound level of intimacy the vampire seeks out. It is one that threatens to suffocate you due to its sheer rawness and scratches at your heart as you get to see a different side to him. Reverence is in every gentle touch of his and every smoldering gaze he gives you, his eyes glowing with emotions you have rarely seen in him before. No longer does he remind you of the monster with the blood red eyes. Instead there is a profound grief you notice around him and you wonder how long he has been carrying such weight all by himself.
🩸​You awake one night and notice that his body is on top of yours, his head resting against your belly and his arms wrapped around you. When you attempt to move his grip tightens lightly and his voice instead asks of you to lay with him for a bit longer. You try to ignore your heart swelling with new feelings as you remind him that he can do this anytime. He's not moving though as he instead utters that this moment is special. When you question him what makes this moment special, he lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are gleaming with so many emotions that you nearly choke, his voice barely above a whisper yet brimming with adoration as he reveals that he heard the first few beats of its heart and wishes to listen to the new melody for a while longer. Tears start trailing down your face before you even notice it, the first tears you have ever spilled for him and not yourself as you lay back down and allow him to listen to the heartbeat of his baby, your own heart aching for reasons you don't even understand yourself. He feels frightened from that day on if you aren't around him, the warmth of your skin and the sound of two heartbeats proving a security he craves for and needs to go on.
🩸​He needs weeks before he finally appears in front of Integra again and finally informs her about why he disappeared for a while, his hands keeping your body protectively close to his own. The woman looks a tad bit surprised as she glances at you but she doesn't dwell on it too long as she congratulates him. Still, she remains focused on her work as she asks Alucard what his plans are as she can certainly relieve him from some of his duties but that he is still their trump card. You notice the way his grip tightens carefully, his eyes looking at your smaller frame and you see the hidden unease he feels on the inside but he has sworn loyalty to Integra so he reassures her that he will still follow her call if she needs him. The young woman has a rather sharp mind herself as she notices the tinge of anxiety the vampire feels as she in return assures him that she will see it through that you will receive proper medical assistance the moment your water breaks. Another beat of silence follows as Alucard hesitates with the thought of letting anyone that close to you but he doesn't let his overprotective worries override his rationality and gives her a nod, expressing his gratitude for her help.
🩸​His emotions are unfiltered and his vulerability raw and sincere as he spends the following months not wanting to leave your side. The few missions he has to go on pain him to his core even as Seras eagerly volunteers to remain by your side, his soul itching for your closeness and for the presence of his child as every moment agonises and torments him and the restless agitation is only quenched the moment he has you back in his arms and senses that both of you are healthy. Most of the time he hoards you for himself, especially once your stomach starts swelling with the new hope you are nurturing in your womb. Alucard finds himself drawn to your growing belly, every sound of the baby's heartbeat and every fluttering movement mending cracks that have broken his soul as a feeling of fulfillment washes over him that he hasn't felt in centuries. When you start craving for blood, he provides it for you without hesitation and even forces it down your lips by feeding it to you himself. Your tears of guilt and disgust move his heart as he understands that you do not wish to be like him. His desire for this child is stronger than his guilt though. He wants it to be born.
🩸​You have seen the human behind the monster who is still a cruel and possessive man willing to burn down cities if anything should attempt to rip his baby and you away from him but who is beyond everything broken in his own rights. When your water breaks, Alucard never leaves your side and you even want him to be there with you. His touches are gentle and his words soothe you through your pain. Red eyes never leave the medics helping you, observing them closely as he is prepared to rip them apart if they should make even the tiniest mistake. He's not losing you and the baby. The first bellow of the little girl born the moment the sun rises has his dead heart trembling with emotions he thought had died with his human side. The medics leave the moment she is cleaned to give him the privacy he needs as red and intense eyes scare them away. You insist that he should hold her first and the moment he holds her tiny form in his arms, he sees the second chance he has been given. Red eyes are unable to look away from the little life as he vows to never let either of you go. She looks just like you, like a human, and he feels relief about that. He wouldn't want her to look like him. Like a monster.
Captain
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🐺​The Captain is a werewolf, a literal beast that brutally follows orders of the Major. He is frightening, never speaks a word and always remains stoic and expressionless yet he has made it obvious that no one is to touch you. For reasons even the Major is unsure of, Captain has chosen you as his mate and whilst he never vocally expresses it, his possessiveness and territorial claim he has stacked on you are as obvious as it gets though as soldiers who have gotten too close to you were brutally torn apart, their flesh consumed and their bones crushed as you could only watch in silent horror. Maybe it is in his nature as a werewolf that feels the urge to breed with his mate and the Major, morbidly interested in this relationship, only encourages it all when he notices the sexual aggression Captain starts showing. Like a piece of meat you are thrown towards the starved wolf as The Major follows the development curiously. Your pregnancy is an outcome he was hoping for and he knows because his bodyguard refuses to leave your side very soon as the natural instinct to guard and protect only spikes now that he senses that you carry his offspring.
🐺​The Major knows that there is no realistic chance that Captain would ever let his mate or the baby be subjected to a study that would document the development the pregnancy and that would research how a hybrid child would turn out. He has already before been very protective to the point of murdering everyone who got simply too close and when the Major suggests the idea lightly to him simply to test his reaction, Captain tears the desk apart and lets out a ferocious growl, red eyes promising murder. The only thing he seems to accept from his leader is the offer for some medical assistance during birth, although the Major fully expects that he might kill them whilst they try to do their job. You have already been kept away from other people before you were expecting a child from him, partially because you have grown terrified to witness the same sight of bloody bodies devoured by him in his possessive rage. Now that you are pregnant though with his pup, Captain has grown even more aggressive as everyone is seen as a threat to you and the little life growing inside of you. You do not leave the room when he has to go and even if the room wouldn't be locked, you doubt you would leave.
🐺​They eventually know about the news that Captain's captive is pregnant with his child but none of them dare to speak up. Only one fool has tentatively congratulated him on his incoming parenthood. All who were witness to it saw the way his pupils narrowed to slits before suddenly the man's head was gone. They don't even mention you in any way, shape or form as all know that he would kill them the moment he would find out. The only one who can actually get away with it is the Major and that only because Captain is more or less loyal to him, although his loyalty has started to split ever since he discovered you and chose you as his mate. When there isn't anything to do, the werewolf spends all of his time with you. His eyes never leave you once he is with you, always following your every move. You have long gotten used to the silence that surrounds you as he has never spoken to you before which has made you already countless times wonder if he perhaps can't speak at all. His presence is more suffocating now than ever before though. He doesn't let you out of his sight at all, not even when you wish to go to the toilet. You've stopped locking the door to the bathroom the first time he broke it.
🐺​The pregnancy doesn't seem to differ much from what a normal human pregnancy would look like as you know that Captain is no regular human. It all seems so normal, much to the boredom of the Major, as months pass and your belly slowly develops into a bump. The sight of your bump seems to spark excitement and possessive thrill within the werewolf though as it is a sign of your body showing him that he claimed and marked you as his own. He always wants you to show him your growing bump, completely ignoring your privacy as he has torn multiple shirts apart in growling frustration when you weren't in the mood to let yourself be touched by him. He doesn't understand your resistance against him. You are his. The baby is his. He can do what he wants with you. As frightening as he is, you know that you have seen worse from him and you know that he is holding himself back a bit more to spare you from stress that could harm the baby inside of you. The bigger you grow, the less time he spends away from you. The Major tolerates it though as he knows that the Captain would probably even go against his orders if he were to tell him to spend more than an hour away from you.
🐺​It is at the end of your second trimester that something interesting happens that rouses the Major's intrigue. Captain starts hunting down humans and even kills a few of the most disposable soldiers and drags them to the room where he keeps you. Recently you have started feeling an overwhelming hunger for flesh, human flesh. You try to stop yourself from indulging in that sudden craving but Captain realises the need of the growing pup who is in its final phase of growth and requires more nutrition and food for the energy your body will need to nurture it properly. You scream, you cry and you even feel like vomiting when the werewolf forces your jaw open and makes you swallow the flesh of the corpses he brought with him, some soldiers you even knew briefly. The hunger for humans only increases as the final growth spurt of the fetus takes a toll on your body, the flesh he makes you consume giving the baby what it needs and feeling its strong kicks beneath your swollen skin only pushes him to feed you human flesh everyday. The final weeks before your due date, Captain takes a complete break from his duties as he is unable to focus on anything else than you and his pup.
🐺​Your water breaks 2 weeks too early but you are quite relieved when the liquid stains your legs. Not only does it mean that he won't force your jaw open anymore to shove human flesh down your throat but you also look already more like someone who is overdue due to the growth of the baby ever since it has been feasting on human flesh. The birth is messy, frightening and terrible. The moment contractions start hitting you seriously, Captain refuses to leave your side and when one medic dares to instruct him to leave the room, their intestines go flying. Animalistic growls echo through the room as he stands possessively in front of you and glowers at the frightened medics. It is only when he senses that his child is about to be born that he finally allows them to step over the corpse of their co-worker and do their job as he silently takes care of you to encourage you to keep going. As soon as his son is born and starts wailing, he instantly stands in front of the medic who hands him his child before everyone rushes out of the room, rightfully frightened for their lives. Captain looks only proud and satisfied though as he puts his pup on your chest, wanting to see you caring for his newborn.
Ryomen Sukuna
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🗾​There is quite possibly nothing more terrifying than being the victim to Sukuna's obsession, although the King of Curses likes to remind you that you should feel honored that he bothers with you to begin with. He could have devoured and killed you by now so you'd do best to realise your position and stop your whining. You will not be set free until he decides to end your pathetic life himself, you surely don't expect him to let you go after all if he should ever lose interest in you. He's not a sentimental fool after all so perhaps you should try harder to entertain him. A child is the least thing he has considered for himself, the only experience he has with such tiny and annoying little things are the ones where he relishes in their final screams before dining on their young flesh. There is no denying what he is sensing though as he picks up the tiny source of energy nestled within your womb. It is rather rare for a curse and a human to create such a thing together and he has lived long enough to know that in the few rare incidents that it has happened, an abortion was always the result. With that thought in mind, he decides initially to not even bother to inform you about it as he continues treating you as usual.
🗾​The little thing is persistent though as if to prove him wrong and even if he knows that it barely has a consciousness of its own, he has to admire it for its strength. He would expect nothing less from a spawn of his. It is a greedy little thing that drains you of your vitality and energy even from its earliest stages and it is then that Sukuna acknowledges its existence and informs you of what is going on as even you have taken notice of it. How could you not, when it literally claims everything your body has to offer for its own growth? There is horror that you feel to the marrow of your bones as he tells you that you carry his offspring, your throat closed as only broken whimpers leave your lips. You go down on your knees, your hands grasping the material of his clothes as teary eyes look at him with a pleading looks that your mouth is unable to vocalise. What are you even hoping for? Two of his hands grasp the sides of your face as a look of false pity crosses his face as another hand pats your head half-heartedly. He must say that the fighting spirit of the thing inside of you has managed to impress him. He's rather curious to see if it can manage to survive. Seems like you'll get the honor of bearing his heir.
🗾​Uraume is the only other living person who is let in on your pregnancy and swears to protect you and his heir with their life. Sukuna almost laughs at the implication that there would ever be a scenario where someone would get that close to you in the first place. There are immediately humans and curses piling up at your feet to provide you with cursed energy and nutritions your puny human food could never give. If you really manage the impressive feat of bearing him a child, he expects it to be a worthy heir of his. Your own disgust and fright as he demands you to devour all the corpses he has brought you tire him. The little thing is already consuming your own reserves and weakens you even more than you were to begin with. He has no patience for your tantrum right now. Two of his hands seize your shoulders and hold you in place, the recent weight loss you have suffered from allowing him to feel your bones even if he applies only minimal pressure. The other two hands pry your mouth open and shove the flesh of dismembered bodies down your throat, again and again. You wish to throw it all up yet to your horror your body digests it all.
🗾​The repeat of this procedure only solidifies in your mind his cruel nature, Uraume on the other hand comments that Sukuna must really hold a deep-rooted affection for you. If you were anyone else and if the child were not his and yours, they are sure the King of Curses wouldn't be as patient to forcefeed you multiple times a day to keep up with the needs of the growing life inside of you. He wants the baby to be born, doesn't he? Neither you nor the fetus disappoint him as his efforts aren't wasted when your stomach starts rounding out with the growing life inside of you. He must say, he is rather pleased with you so far as you manage to achieve something no one before you has ever done before. You are physically and mentally already drained, your body exhausted from bearing a child that is half human and half curse and your mind broken with the knowledge that he has taken the last thing from you you thought he could never take from you. Whenever he sees that look in your eyes though when his gaze meets yours, he gleefully reminds you that it was your body who accepted his seed and that it is your body that continues to nurture his heir. It is your own body who betrayed you.
🗾​There are still things he has to do, sometimes just because he feels rather bored at the moment in which case he knows that Uraume will keep you safe if anything should happen. There is a subtle shift in his behavior though as you grow heavier with his child, their frequent and strong kicks only another sign that you really seem to be a special human. He chose wisely. He may never admit that to you but his touches are more gentle as his fingers caress your skin and brush against your bump. There is more time he spends with you, although he avoids appearing even remotely clingy. Still, it is time he chooses to spend willingly to you as there are less insults and taunts when he is with you as there is instead a silence he doesn't want to fill with compliments but you take the awkward tension. Uraume provides you with new clothes to accommodate your ever-growing belly but they are never allowed to let you in on the fact that it is Sukuna who chose them for you. In fact it is often per Sukuna's orders that Uraume gathers and collects everything he believes you need as well as the baby as soon as it is born. He can't have you thinking that he is going soft after all.
🗾​As much as you despise Sukuna, there is an undeniable feeling of betrayal when you are in the middle of labor and he isn't with you. Only Uraume is there to guide you and offer passive encouragement as they tell you what you have to do. What were you even expecting? He doesn't care about you and he won't care for the child either. It is a long and taxing process as you struggle to give birth to the child. You curse its existence, you curse Sukuna and you especially curse your own treacherous heart for having considered for even one second that he would be there for you during birth. It is in the final phase of your labor that you just want to give up, the pain of pushing a child out of you indescribable and your vision blackening. That is when he suddenly appears, grabbing your sweaty palm and squeezing it reassuringly as he reminds you to breathe, even entertaining you as he notes that you want the little brat as much out of you as he wants. He's there when his son is finally born and holds him first, two of his hands hoisting the infant close to his face as he observes the child before you witness him breaking out in a genuinely proud smile as he looks at you and thanks you for bearing him a strong heir.
Sawada Tsunayoshi
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🔥​Life with Vongola Decimo is for the most part rather blissful and normal, if you ignore the heavy protection that is placed upon you. Surely it isn't always pleasant to have one of his guards always accompanying you but Tsunayoshi hopes you understand that his position as the head of the Italian Mafia makes you an easy target. It is a small sacrifice for your safety, even if you may not see it as he does. Children have never been a topic that has been heavily discussed between the two of you, although as the years fly a few people in his closer circle start joking about it. He must admit that he has considered it a few times whenever someone brought the idea up but he always finds himself hesitating. Tsunayoshi is the Vongola Decimo after all and he wouldn't want a child of his to be pressured by expectations that would undoubtedly come from somewhere as he would be their father. The decision of a baby would be something he would discuss with you to begin with since you would be the one who has to carry the baby and to give birth to it. That means that you get to decide if you want a biological child with him or not, meaning that the pregnancy is something both of you want.
🔥​There have already been made certain preparations even before it was confirmed that you are expecting as Tsunayoshi has been quite open with his friends about the mutual decision that both of you have made. Anticipation is thick as everyone is just waiting for you two to announce it when it happens and when that finally happens, they throw a small party to celebrate the news. Obviously there is no alcohol for you involved. Everyone swarms around you on that day excitedly and it is up to Tsuna to remind them to give you a little bit of space to breathe. The news only stay within his closest circle of friends and allies though, even if he knows that eventually rumors will spread through the entire Vongola. That'll have to wait though as he'd like to focus for now on preparing everything for the arrival of the baby and especially to be there for you as the next few months will probably bring the one or other challenge with it. Not one to neglect his duties as the Vongola Decimo, Tsunayoshi sees it still through that he makes more time for you as he wants to be as involved as he can with your pregnancy and with the child as soon as it is born. It's not like you are ever lonely if he has work to do.
🔥​There is usually always at least one of his guardians with him, mostly it varies between Gokudera. Yamamoto and Ryohei. Gokudera is fiercely loyal and protective over you now that you're expecting Tsunayoshi's child, Ryohei is always cheering you on when he notices that you're feeling down and Yamamoto is the calmest one who just listens to you and your worries. Hibari keeps an eye on you every once in a while too but he rarely chats with you, strictly focused on his task. Haru and Kyoko also often drop by to visit and Haru always beings some cake with her to enjoy together. She does now that there is a loose diet you are on to ensure the health of you and the baby but she tells you that if you tell no one about it, no one will find out anyways. You do not find it in your heart to tell her that Tsunayoshi knows about her smuggling cake with her but he seems to be rather amused as he is quite familiar with the antics of his old friend. In fact he sometimes asks if you could spare him some of the cake Haru brings with her which is no problem since Haru always brings so much with her that there is always some leftover. Even if you ask her to bring a little less, she ends up ignoring it anyways.
🔥​The only people outside of his Guardians and friends who find out about the pregnancy are a few doctors he has chosen to monitor your pregnancy. Otherwise news of your pregnancy are strictly forbidden to be leaked to outsiders. Tsunayoshi isn't violent as a Mafioso but that has never been enough to stop conflict arising between the Vongola and other groups during times and he has met organizations who would be ruthless enough to even try to get their hands on you, especially now that you are more vulnerable than ever before. The security is tighter than it normally is and whilst you are still allowed to leave the building and go outside, which he partially even encourages since you need some exercise, you are never left alone. One of his Guardians is always accompanying you but he lets you choose which one you want to take with you, although when he finally has some time on his hands he takes it upon himself to go out with you. His parents and even Reborn visit him eventually when they have time as he has made sure to inform them about the good news as well. Reborn even volunteers to train Tsuna's child as soon as it is old enough as well and Tsuna, having war flashbacks, can only laugh.
🔥​There are almost all the time the hands of someone on your stomach when you start showing, especially once the baby starts kicking. Tsunayoshi is alright with it though as he knows that everyone will be careful to not harm you and the baby. Haru is gushing over the fetus and introduces herself as their auntie and Ryohei accepts also quite eagerly your offer of feeling the baby kick and compliments the little one on being already a boxer. Tsunayoshi isn't touching your stomach as much as some of his other friends, mainly because he thinks that you must be quite exhausted from having multiple people talking to your stomach and touching it, although he still caresses your belly gingerly when both of you are alone. Both of you have already talked about the future of the baby and Tsuna is firm in his decision to not pressure his child into anything. He is aware that many might think that he would want his kid to take over his position when they are old enough but he wants to give his child the freedom to choose what they want to be later on in their life. He's sometimes actually worried that his child might feel like they have no choice but become the next head if they get older.
🔥​He does his best to clear all business when the last month lurks around the corner and everyone else does their hardest to help him with that. Once again there is anticipation and excitement as you get closer to your due date. Tsunayoshi can't deny that the nervousness is there but he feels still fairly confident. After all months of preparation have all been for the moment that could happen every day now. When your water breaks and you experience your labor, everyone just waits in front of the medical room where the doctors that have been assissting you throughout your entire pregnancy now help you in the final act of delivering the baby. Tsunayoshi is the only one who is with you in the room and he is sure that if he would still be as faint-heared as he used to be when he was younger, he would have collapsed pretty early on as he watches everything unfolding. He isn't immune to the wriggly anxiety deep within the depth of his stomach but he hides it rather well as he knows that right know you need him to be there for you. You give birth to a healthy boy after hours of pain and Tsuna is overjoyed, although a old nervousness resurfaces as he's almost too anxious to hold him at first.
Byakuran
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🍬​My, this is unexpected. A pregnancy is not what Byakuran had in store for you as he is told of this little accident that has happened. Now that he thinks about it, he should have guessed what was going on as he has taken notice of some interesting symptoms for a while now but instead chose to ignore them. He could have figured that out by himself and is actually sulking a bit that you knew before he did because normally it is always the other way around. After he has gotten over his sullen mood though, he quickly focus on the situation at hand. Neither of you planned for this to happen and he asks you jokingly if you forgot to take your pills on purpose, although the deterred look on your face quickly tells him that you did not intend for this to happen either. Now, how should he handle this unexpected surprise? Byakuran has never before given a child any serious thought. He isn't even sure if he really wanted one before. Initially he thinks about keeping it merely to torment you a bit as he can sense that you are not overly thrilled about the discovery. The more he thinks about it though, the more he finds himseld curious about how that embryo might turn out.
🍬​So he decides to view it as a surprise that he will look forward to in a few months time. Your reaction is as obvious as it can get, the anger and dread visible yet whenever you open your mouth, he puts a finger over your lips to hush you with that cheerful grin of his you know is just a facade to hide his ruthlessness. Let's not spoil the surprise by being a party pooper, alright? A surprise is something that should have you anticipating after all. Whilst Byakuran is not necessarily eager to share the news with the Six Funeral Wreaths, much to his dismay it isn't something that can be avoided. They have always been involved one way or another and he does need someone to look after you when he has to take care of something involving his plans. There is a clear tinge of annoyance in his smile though as they are informed and show different reactions. Zakuro looks as bored as always as he doesn't really care. Bluebell, who has never been able to understand what Byakuran sees in you to begin with, probably likes you even less now. Deisy acts as fearful as always as he looks at you nervously. Kikyo is the only one who properly congratulates Byakuran and promises to keep an eye on you.
🍬​His intelligence is outstanding yet pregnancy is not something Byakuran can admit to know overly much about besides the basics everyone seems to know. He hires a small team of doctors and nurses to observe your pregnancy and the health of you and your little one but otherwise he actually doesn't make an effort to inform himself more about the changes of your body. Why should he? He can observe all of that by inspecting you closely over the coming months and that will be much more interesting than just reading about it on some paper or online. Apparently you hold one more surprise for him though when during an ultrasound it is actually discovered that you are expecting twins. When he hears the news, he actually starts laughing, the sound startling you when you hear it. There is a grin on his face as soon as he has calmed down, his purple eyes focused on your belly before he jabs his index finger into the skin. You really are always full of surprises, aren't you? No wonder he was so utterly fascinated with you when he met you for the first time. If you were worried that he would react negatively, don't. Two surprises are better than one after all.
🍬​He couldn't care less for the gender of the twins and since the babies weren't really planned to begin with, he just decides that the gender will be another surprise the moment both of them are born. Byakuran appears almost rather easygoing as he even tells you that you can choose both of their names, interested what you'll come up with. In fact, sometimes you always feel like he is too easygoing and isn't focusing enough on the stuff that you will need the moment the babies are born. It almost appears like Kikyo is more invested than he is because it is the Cloud Mare Ring holder who seeks you out and presents you with different choices of cribs and furnitures he has chosen for the baby and would like your opinion on. That is how you find yourself willingly spending time with the male as both of you share the same interest as of now. When Byakuran finds out though, he is not happy. Despite his cheerful disposition he is rather possessive after all and the frequent meetings between Kikyo and you rouse his jealousy. He interferes both of you with a lopsided grin and a cold look in his eyes before his gaze lands on the files. He lifts them up and studies them before he glances at you.
🍬​From that day on he pours a bit more effort into it as he does his own research, although you are still left to decide what you want. He merely just doesn't want you to spend so much time and get too close to Kikyo. There are some really weird cravings you experience as months pass and whilst Byakuran is gracious enough to provide you with the food you want, he can't stop himself from making fun of the weird combinations you come up with. Sometimes out of pure fun he even serves you a questionable combination of food and wants you to try. You've consumed some weird stuff already so you might like this as well. Other times he just feeds you the confectionary he is always consuming throughout the day and he does hope that the twins will share his sweet tooth or else he would be slightly disappointed. His presence is often rather grating though, simply because Byakuran loves poking fun at you even as you swell with two of his babies. He pokes your bump to rouse the babies when he wants to feel their movements, he doesn't give you any privacy and sometimes is just a jerk for the sake of being one. Your pregnancy doesn't protect you from his sadistic vein after all.
🍬​His possessive nature is quite hypocritical though as he reacts harshly when it is someone else who agitates you to the point of tears during your pregnancy. After all your reactions and flaring emotions, whether they are of negative or positive nature, are solely reserved for his own enjoyment. There is a reason why you are as isolated as you are after all. Byakuran chooses to wait outside the maternity room when your water breaks and you enter your labor. He doesn't appear overly nervous as he sits there and wait. It takes the eye of someone who knows him better to notice the signs. The bag of sweets he has brought with him remain largely untouched throughout the hours, your screams and howls for once actually bringing him an unpleasant and slimy dread he feels in his stomach, ruining every chance of him enjoying the confectionary. When the shrill sounds of two screams finally echo through the air, he does feel his body jerking slightly forward. An amused chuckle escapes him when he finally enters and sees the babies for the first time. Fraternal twins, a boy and a girl each with a shock of white hair on their heads and purple eyes that make it glaringly obvious to whom they belong.
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after-witch · 9 months ago
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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]
Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.
Word count: 7100ish
notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre
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The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly. 
In surprise.
In trepidation. 
In realization.
The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance. 
How lucky for him. 
How unfortunate for you. 
You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?
The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill? 
And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear. 
He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later. 
His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise. 
As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you. 
The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches. 
Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy. 
What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate? 
All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front. 
As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way? 
But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once
From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.
And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.
He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him. 
Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis. 
It’s you that he focuses on, now.  And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted. 
Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person. 
You.
What to make of you? 
You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find. 
He remembers such a living. 
You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats. 
It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them. 
With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you. 
Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.
He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm. 
“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you. 
You stiffen. 
“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”
You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.
“None of your business,” you say. 
And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.
“That’s all right.”  He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”
Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.
“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”
Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City. 
“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.” 
He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.
And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.
“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.
He nods his head.
“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach. 
“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”
He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels. 
You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that. 
“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”
Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.
“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”
--
The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them. 
Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it? 
You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more. 
Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear. 
“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.” 
“You want to buy me clothes?”
You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips. 
He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.
You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant. 
“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies. 
For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised. 
The elevator doors open.
Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter. 
“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”
You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?
“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.
That might come in handy.
He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him. 
“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.” 
You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.
Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.
Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs. 
5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets. 
Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.
--
The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining. 
He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement. 
What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?
Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?
He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You. 
What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume. 
What would  you be like, once you were fully his? 
What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden? 
The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it. 
He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--
Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.
He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.
--
The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder. 
But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits. 
He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it. 
This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate. 
Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping. 
Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two. 
But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.
Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb. 
And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least,  you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit. 
It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut. 
Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer. 
--
At least, not before today.
“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.
Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good.  Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.
“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.
“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”
Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?” 
You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.” 
“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”
You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.
Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.
Only... none of that happens.
His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.
“I know a lot about that, actually.”
It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you. 
It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside. 
“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom. 
He nods.
“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think. 
He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.” 
Dear.
The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.
Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself. 
Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top. 
The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest. 
A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.
You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.
There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.
And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.
If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner? 
He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears. 
“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.
Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”
“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”
His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.
“You’re familiar with his work?”
You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling. 
You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?
“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.
 He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm. 
His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why? 
Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.
The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap. 
And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.
Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.
The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you. 
Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.
“So you were… homeless, before?”
You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.
His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?
“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”
Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.
If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.
“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”
“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin. 
“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”
“Which was?”
There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.
“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”
He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you. 
Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.
Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.
“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.  
He tilts his head a little. “What for?”
Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.
Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.
“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”
You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology. 
He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.
It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.
Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.
A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.
You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do. 
The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild. 
Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap. 
Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it. 
Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two… 
You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.
--
There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.
But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.
You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there. 
You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras. 
The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.
He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.
You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years? 
How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.
He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be. 
Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this. 
There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever. 
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cheesecakethots · 1 year ago
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Maybe your intuition was right about this job.
You were broke, only a few days away from having to live on the streets, streets where dangerous men lurked waiting for an opportunity to snap up young women like you.
You remember shivering at the thought, and so when you saw a job opportunity at some nearby hotel, you thought you were saved. It paid pretty well considering you were only coming in to be a cleaner, but you were quick to realise why.
Gangs and mafia had wormed their way into the very foundations of your city. You were hired to clean and keep your mouth shut if you saw anything. Up until now, you hadn’t seen anything, thank god.
Despite your guilty conscience, you continued working, making a habit of bringing in headphones just so you could block everything out.
You regret every decision you’ve made that has led up to this moment.
You’re practically plastered against the wall, eyes wide and body trembling. The headphones you usually wear are still blasting some pop song, but it’s practically white noise compared to the sounds of crying, screaming and groaning.
It’s a bloodbath. Quite literally too. You can feel pools of it soaking into your cheap shoes, which doesn’t help the sickness in your stomach.
The man, if you can even call him that, still hasn’t noticed you. You won’t be surprised if he turns around and reveals himself to be some bear-man mutant thing. He’s fucking massive, despite the fact that he’s currently sat down, boredly snapping bones. You’re extremely lucky he hadn’t heard your mop drop to the floor after you walked into the carnage.
Fucking move! Move! Move!
You don’t. You stand still like an idiot.
“Are you going to say anything, little lady?”
Now you just might throw up.
He turns his head to the side and watches you with one eye, a grin on his lips. He chuckles a little, before standing.
By fucking god he’s huge. Your knees become wobbly within an instant.
“Hm. I don’t think you should be here, girlie.”
“I-I work here,” you stammer out.
He raises an eyebrow, turning to face you a little more, the grin on his lips widening.
“Is that so?”
He stands to his feet, casually crushing the head of some poor man under his boot. Your eyes divert to the ceiling, struggling to find a spot that isn’t covered in splatters of blood.
“I gotta admit, you don’t look the type to be working here.”
There’s a spot. It’s grimy, and there’s a dull light that looks like it has dead bugs in it.
“I-I need the money, and it’s only- it’s only cleaning.”
Another wry laugh, “Cleaning, huh? Tell me, do you think you can clean all this?”
The light flickers a little. Someone should check that out, but not you, you’d be hopeless with it.
“Maybe for a raise,” you mumble.
He laughs again. That’s good right? He must think you’re funny. Or maybe he thinks the thought of splattering your intestines across the wall is funny.
The spot on the ceiling becomes all the harder to focus on when he’s right in front of you, tall enough to reach your line of sight despite the fact you’re basically looking straight up.
There’s a bit of blood in the toothy smirk he wears, a fact that makes your stomach sink even lower. “You not gonna run?”
You don’t even realise you’re crying until you hear your own pathetic sniffles, “Wha-What would be the p-point?”
He pouts mockingly, the amusement in his eyes clear as day, and you flinch harshly at the sight of his massive hand raising towards you, a sharp breath of air entering your lips and your headphones clattering to the floor.
The hand slowly pats your head, and the heaviness of it reminds you of the fact he could so easily crush your skull. You can feel the blood from him dripping into your hair.
“You’re cute, you know that? In a bit of a pathetic way.”
How lovely of him. You’re not really sure if you should say thanks.
You gulp, and it scratches at your dry throat painfully. “I-I won’t te-tell any-“
“Ya got a boyfriend? Maybe even a girlfriend?”
Only spluttered and clipped words leave you, and so you settle for shaking your head.
The hand on your head crawls down your face, akin to a spider, before eventually settling on cupping your cheek.
“Yeah, I figured. I mean, no offence. If I had a pretty thing like you I wouldn’t let you work in a place like this,” he motions to the hellhole behind him, before glancing back down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. “Hell, I doubt I would even let you out of the house. You’re too cute for your own good.”
God. Why didn’t you just tell your coworker to find someone else to cover? Why, why, why?
A rough thumb wipes under your eyes, creating a thin layer of blood, sweat and tears on your skin.
“Awe, no need to cry,” he coos, and you yelp when his other hand encircles around your waist, tugging you against him.
“I’ll take care of ya.”
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cannellee · 5 months ago
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HUNTER X HUNTER OMEGAVERSE ☆
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୨୧ yandere! alpha! kurapika x omega! reader
— how does he take care of his omega ?
cw : yandere, controlling behaviour, red flags, etc.
I had this sitting in my drafts for a while now... so here it is! just like for naruto and the seven deadly sins, I'll accept requests about hxh (but my main focus will still be about tokyorev!)
MY MASTERLIST: ☆
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kurapika is a kind and reassuring alpha. he wants his omega to feel the safest when she's with him, to appear as flawless as possible to make her feel sheltered and in good hands.
you don't doubt him at first, kurapika is always smiling brightly. his polite smiles soothes any worry you might have as if he had everything and everyone under control.
he might manipulate you into thinking you're imagining things if you ever get suspicious of him. he's cautious, very careful about what he does and what he says in front of you. nothing would shatter his world more than see his omega wary of him. that would mean that he failed his task at shielding you from anything unpleasant and his thoughts would torture him if it ever had to happen.
kurapika is overly worried about you, you're so frail and innocent, and he knows how mean and scary the world is, especially for sweet omegas like you... which is why he got his hunter licence. kurapika had to be better, to improve himself so much to the point that no harm could be done to you.
kurapika hates unnecessary violence. you often tell him that he's kind and benevolent and that's why you love him so much. he does feel guilty about how brutally he murders all those people who had bad intentions towards you, he's afraid you'll look at him differently if you were to learn about it, but it had to be done. he would never let anything scary come close to you, he's especially vigilant that he's aware how of horribly people are able to treat soft beings like you. he has witnessed it first hand and he dreads the thought of not being capable of protecting you well enough and seeing you hurt.
kurapika is very rigorous about which individual has the right to interact with you. he's always suspicious if you say you're going out with someone or if a random person talks to you on the streets. he fears them corrupting you so much, he'll glare at them, possessively shielding you away from their gaze by putting himself in front of you, eyes red in anger and chasing them away from how powerful his scent gets. the type of scent which makes you feel more vulnerable than usual because of how bad it affects you. those domineering pheromones of him weren't meant for you and he feels so bad you had to spend such an awful moment because of him.
kurapika will baby talk to you, assuring you you don't need to go out to actually be happy. his terror of losing you grows stronger each day and the simple fact of not having you in his vision field is enough to send him into a state you're the only one able to soothe by submitting and baring your nape to him. you wait for him to scent you, all docile, while you feel his respiration calm down.
kurapika monitors you. he started by advising you certain clothes before straight out telling you what to wear. he's the one cooking for you, he can't have his precious omega hurting herself in the dangerous kitchen. he makes sure to feed you healthy meals so you're always in good shape and keep a strong body. he's putting you to sleep at the same hour each day, sometimes forcibly so because of how stubborn you can be. kurapika knows better than a dumbly cute omega like you. you need all your hours of sleep end of story. if you're persistent, he'll either drug your hot beverage with sleeping pills or coax you into agreeing by promising you he'll take you out tomorrow if you comply right now.
kurapika knows how easy it is for him to make you obey and submit, you're his omega and he knows everything there's to know about you.
overall, kurapika is insanely worried and preoccupied about his omega. he wants both your and his world to be about your relationship only, others can get lost honestly. it's fine if you don't love him immediately, his main responsibility is to protect you, you'll eventually come to love that side of him, he's sure of it. for now, all he wants is to be needed and make sure you never experience anything traumatising just like he once did, and keep that sweet and pure mind of yours untouched.
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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago
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Title: Final Girl.
Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).
Word Count: 1.4k.
TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.
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The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.
‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—
And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”
You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”
His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.
He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”
“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”
He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”
“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”
He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”
As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.
You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”
“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”
“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”
The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—
Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.
There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”
You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”
There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.
“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”
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