Oh The Feeling Of Dread I Got When I Read This Because You Already Know This Cute Little Romance Wasnt

Oh the feeling of dread I got when I read this because you already know this cute little romance wasn’t gonna end any other way. I find this super relatable because while my social anxiety isn’t this bad (or maybe I’m deluding myself into thinking so as well) I felt just about the same way the insert character about the different scenarios happening I could FEEL the stress. This was super well done in my opinion.

Idée Fixe.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Some not SFW elements, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, depictions of general & social anxiety disorder, depictions of a panic attack, mentions of anxiety medication, Chrollo administers medications to Reader without her consent, and mentions of religion. Also Chrollo just really, really sucks. Word count: 12.3k.

You met a strange man at the arboretum today.

Perhaps you aren’t in a position to describe others as ‘strange’, considering your latest proclivity for expressing earnest thanks to any honey bees you happen across for their service. After much contemplation, however, it’s ultimately the word you arrive at. ‘Strange’ not in a disconcerting sense that inspires fear, but just being out of the ordinary enough to exude an undeniable allure. A raised panel on the floor you stumble over yet suffer no serious injury from. 

Well-kept gardens might be the closest imitation to heaven on earth. That’s what brought you to this little oasis hidden in the desert that is urban life. It’s the type of day romanticists wax poetic about: baby blue skies, puffy clouds, and moderate temperatures with a light, forgiving breeze. 

You situated yourself strategically, so you’d be beneath the shade of a magnolia tree whose pink petals kept fluttering down as if in greeting, and near a patch of daffodils that matched the shade of your gingham dress. Blades of grass tickle your legs, but not unpleasantly so, they scratch an itch found only in nature’s loving reprieve. There’s no thought of upcoming assignments, what to eat for dinner, or if buying that purse you thought was a steal at 30% off was a good idea or not. 

It’s just you and your book. 

Until it isn’t. 

Every woman is connected in the experience that is trepidation whenever a man randomly approaches. There’s no telling his intentions, if he has any. You’re left to smile awkwardly and temporarily realign yourself with religion by praying to a higher deity for his hasty departure. You map out potential escape routes and recall the pepper spray situated in your impulse-bought purse. He gently calls out “Miss”, confirming that he hopes to speak with you. 

At least he has the propriety to stop a few paces from where you sit, electing not to intrude on your personal space. This causes your shoulders to relax. In the few seconds you’ve been made aware of his existence, you recognize his appealing features. He has loose, dark hair, along with wide and seemingly unassuming eyes. His outfit of a dark gray turtleneck accompanied by a black jacket and pants somewhat strikes you as odd, considering spring is in full bloom. Two other details steal your attention away from this; those being the beige wrapping around his forehead and his spherical, turquoise-colored earrings. It’s like he was caught undecided between wanting and not wanting to attract attention. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins. You try not to think about how pleasant his voice sounds. “I’ve been trying to make sense of the directory, but I’ve never been the best with directions. Do you by any chance know how to get to the Starling House?” 

You nod. It’s a quaint, centuries-old mansion, maintained by the non-profit that oversees the flora here. Getting over the initial apprehension from his approach, you try verbalizing the most efficient path to get there. This proves more difficult than you expected since the arboretum is vast and has few waypoints that can be used for reference. Still, throughout your explanation whose unhelpfulness you grow painfully aware of, he patiently nods and makes no attempts to rush you through. 

This willingness to put up with your scattered description wins over your sympathy, pushing you past your sheepishness. 

“I guess I’m not good at giving directions. I could just show you the way, if you’d like.” 

“I’d hate to disturb your reading, but… if it isn’t a bother, I’d certainly appreciate it.” 

You’re already setting your bookmark into place. “It’s no bother. This is my second time reading it, anyway. So don’t worry. I’m not being left off on a cliffhanger or anything.” 

He smiles at that. When you’re preparing to stand, he extends his hand, a gesture that gives you a momentary pause. Well, you are wearing a dress. You suppose it’s the polite thing for him to do. You accept his unspoken offer and he hoists you up without the least bit of exertion on his part. His hand is warm and bigger than yours, slightly coarse too, surprisingly. His immaculate presentation gave you the impression of a trust fund kid or something in that vein. He’s tasteful in ensuring his touch doesn’t overstay its welcome. 

Your heart pounds in your chest. 

You catch a hint of his cologne. Sandalwood, amber, and leather blend together to form a delightfully woody fragrance. As amazing as he smells, you create a little distance, walking ahead motioning for him to follow. His longer legs have no trouble catching up, yet he never creeps too close. 

The short journey that you expect to only be accompanied by the sounds of cardinals chirping and house finches singing is interrupted by the man speaking up again. Oddly enough, you don’t mind. 

“Do you find your thoughts on Prince Myshkin’s initially endearing simple heartedness changed, knowing how the book ends?” 

You pause, taking a moment to realize he must be familiar with the work. This revelation fills you with a tentative giddiness. It isn’t often you have a chance to delve into your literary thoughts to a willing audience. There’s plenty more you could say on the subject, but you try to exercise restraint nonetheless. 

“I thought I might, but I found myself more critical of the other characters instead.” 

“Oh? And why is that?” 

He appears genuinely interested, otherwise, you would’ve kept it at that. 

“Ah, well, maybe it’s that they serve as proof that innocence is never meant to last. Or if it does, it’ll inevitably be punished. There are moments where I feel frustrated with the Prince’s naivety… but then I stop and wonder why it’s so bad to want to see the best in people. Does that speak to a flaw in his character, or to a flaw in the character of others? Maybe it’s both. I can’t help but feel the Prince’s case is more sympathetic.” 

His eyes never leave yours while you give your answer. Heat rises to your cheeks and you internally groan over the prospect of making a stranger listen to your ramblings. He was probably just looking to make casual conversation, not everyone wants an existential crisis on a Saturday afternoon. 

“You must be someone who wants to see the best in people as well,” he surmises. There’s no hint of mockery in his tone — he’s oddly sincere. He says it with a hint of bittersweet nostalgia. 

Before you can hazard a response, you come across a sign displaying information for an event at the Starling House. The building itself lies in waiting atop a hill less than a quarter of a mile ahead. He stops to read it, as do you, operating under the assumption he came here for the event. It seems that they’re displaying historic artifacts from around the area. You suppose this will be where you part ways. You’re about to wish him well when he sighs, the miffed noise stopping you. 

“I got the time wrong,” he frowns, staring at his wristwatch. 

The sign says the event begins at 6:00 p.m. and a quick tap of your phone reveals it’s 4:00. 

“If you’re looking for a way to burn time, there’s a nice garden behind the House that’s always open to the public,” you explain. This piques his curiosity. “If the sage is in bloom, you might get lucky and see some hummingbirds.” 

“That does sound lovely,” he says. Then, his lips quirk up, promising the start of a smile. “Would you care to join me, Miss…?” 

You give him your name and he nods, as if deciding it fits you. 

“[First]. I understand if my tour guide wants to get back to her reading, though.” 

Bashfulness creeps up your back and threatens to sink its fangs into your neck. Your heart’s rhythm takes an erratic cadence. He’s posing the proposition in such a lighthearted way, offering an easy out if you want to take it. You internally weigh your options on a scale that’s worn from overuse. He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. That’s all it is. 

“Well, I guess I’d be a shabby tour guide if I didn’t show you where the gardens are.” 

On the brief walk to the gardens, the man introduces himself as Chrollo. You both situate yourselves on the same stone bench. You sit on the right, he sits on the left. Once again, he leaves you plenty of space, never testing boundaries. The scent of nascent sage wafts in the air. While you scan your surroundings for hummingbirds, he tells you that his work often necessitates travel, hence his unfamiliarity with the area. 

“Does it ever get lonely?” You ask, not thinking much of it. He gives you a look you can’t quite place, so you elaborate. “Traveling all the time, I mean.” 

He tilts his head, more inquisitive than offended. “What makes you think it’d be lonely?” 

“I just think I’d get homesick after a while, always being in an unfamiliar place. I’d miss my family and friends.” 

When he continues staring at you in silence with those unreadable eyes, you swear you want to slam your head repeatedly against a wall. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family or people to call their friends. The weight of your potential insensitivity comes crashing down on you like a tsunami. 

You move your hands around wildly, rushing to correct your discourtesy. “Uh, I mean, that isn’t to say you need those things!” 

“You don’t think I have any friends?” 

Your face must be radiating more heat than a furnace. Still, the embarrassment doesn’t reach a point where you’re unable to notice his omission of the word family. “I didn’t—” 

Contrary to the reaction you were expecting, Chrollo laughs. Not a little chuckle, but a genuine laugh, hearty in a way that stands in stark contrast to his otherwise reserved demeanor. The smile it imprints on his face somehow feels different than what he’s displayed before. Those were always so well timed, lasting as long as necessary and never a second more. It hits you then just how handsome this man is. Alabaster skin, soft and glossy hair, lips as rosy as the blush on his cheeks from his outburst of laughter. 

It doesn’t last long, he’s quick to school himself. The speed he does so is almost unnatural. “I apologize, I’m only teasing. You’re very expressive, [First].” 

You let out something between a huff and a sigh. “God, I felt so awful…” 

“I can tell,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender when you send him a non-threatening glare. “To answer your question… I’ve never thought about it much. I suppose it is lonely at times.” 

This revelation pours a bucket of ice-cold water over the embers of your indignation. Your face softens and a stinging pain shoots throughout your body. You can’t bring yourself to remain miffed when you’re the one who dredged this topic up. People use humor as a means to cope, that may be what Chrollo does. 

“Enough about me, though. I’m far more interested in you.” 

You shift in your seat. Did it always feel so warm out? 

“Here, let me guess. You’re certainly a student. Hm… of the humanities, perhaps?” 

“You got the student part right,” you agree. “I’m majoring in criminal psychology.”

There’s something like a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so? You want to catch criminals, then?” 

“Er… not exactly. It’s more that I want to help them.”

He blinks. “Help them?”

“Not, like, as an accomplice,” you earnestly reassure, to which he smiles, “How do I explain it… take the city around us, right? It’s considered one of the most dangerous in the United States of Saherta.” 

As if on cue, a cacophony of police sirens begins blaring in the distance. 

“In the 80s and 90s, there was a surge of incarceration, yet crime as a whole set higher records each year. The policy at the time was ‘build more prisons, give longer sentences’. Obviously, that didn’t work out very well for anyone… except for private prisons maybe… that’s a whole different beast. Anyway, you reap what you sow. Crime rate is going down, but communities were gutted by these policies. There’s still a lot of work to be done. I want to understand ‘deviant’ behavior so I can see what safety nets would benefit them the most.” 

Chrollo is such an excellent listener that unlike before, you no longer feel the pressure to remain succinct and have little qualms completely delving into your passion. His body language suggests total engagement. 

“Ah, so you view crime as a result of societal shortcomings.” 

“It’s more nuanced than that,” you shake your head. “Hell, even when there were only four people on earth according to the Bible, Cain went ahead and committed murder anyway. That’s like… killing 25% of the population… how messed up. Wait. If there were only four people on earth, who did Cain go on to marry? How does that work…? Asexual reproduction…?” 

“The Quran says Cain and Abel both had twin sisters,” Chrollo offers. 

“Alright, that makes more sense than asexual reproduction. Okay! Enough about theology! Back to crime. There’s no totally eradicating it, but there is circumventing it. That’s what I want to help do.” 

You’ve been so preoccupied with verbalizing your thoughts, you failed to notice he’s scooted slightly closer to you. There’s enough room for decorum yet you can’t help feeling slightly flustered. Why this cute guy is still hanging around despite the fact you casually mentioned asexual reproduction not once, but twice, is a phenomenon that transcends human reason. 

This is so going to be one of those interactions that haunts you periodically at three in the morning for the rest of your life. 

“It’s a noble pursuit,” Chrollo comments. Then, he places a hand to his chin. “Forgive me if this comes off as pessimistic, but… what if you put in all that work, only for nothing significant to change?” 

You shrug. “I’ve considered that plenty, trust me. It’s fine if I don’t kickstart a utopia. So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

“One person, huh?” 

It seems more like a rhetorical musing on his part, so you allow yourself to be momentarily distracted. In your peripherals, there’s a flash of colors, shades of green and red bleeding together. A low buzz accompanies the sporadic sight. The blur moves erratically, high to low, then low to high. 

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, then whisper to your companion, “Chrollo! Look! A hummingbird!” 

The thrum of nature is a wonder you’ll never tire of. It inspires awe that reflects in your eyes like a mirror, enchants without needing to cast a spell. You wrongly assume that Chrollo must be partaking in the same miracle that has stolen your attention. He’s fixated, yes, but not on the right subject matter. He’s still staring at you. This disruption of your expectations can only be explained away by the possibility he hasn’t spotted the creature yet. To remedy this, you slowly point in the hummingbird’s direction. Finally, he breaks his gaze from your form, acknowledging what it is you find so fascinating. 

By then, it’s too late. Your newly made acquaintance departs as swiftly as it arrived. 

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you lament. The disappointment you’d feel if you were in his shoes would be immeasurable. “You didn’t get to see it for very long.” 

You have no concrete proof, but you swear every smile he wears is different than the one before it. 

“It’s alright. I saw something far better.” 

Curious, you glance to your right, searching for whatever it is. You must’ve misinterpreted whatever he was looking at before. “Something better than a hummingbird?” 

“You could say that.” 

The remainder of the time you spend together is relatively uneventful. Chrollo asks you a great deal about yourself, ranging from your hobbies to book recommendations. You try to return the favor — as is only polite, in your opinion — yet the conversation never lingers on him long before circling back to you. It isn’t until you say you feel vain talking about yourself so much that he offers some morsels of knowledge. Aside from traveling for his occupation, he’s something of an antiquarian, hence his interest in the Starling House’s event. He also reveals he has colleagues coming into town soon, the aforementioned ‘friends’ you questioned the existence of. The way he teases is so devoid of malice, you can’t bring yourself to be upset. 

The hour flies by. Good looks aside, he’s a remarkable conversationalist. There’s never an awkward silence or social misstep. One could even call him perfection incarnate. His steady cadence, command of language, meticulously formed ideas… they’re reminiscent of cogs in an automaton turning together in complete harmony. Paradoxically, this immaculate image speaks to some underlying defect in his character he mustn’t want anyone to see. There is such a thing as being too perfect. 

For whatever reason, this draws you in closer rather than repelling you. 

Chrollo’s disappointment is palpable when he glances at his watch. It’s then you’re reminded that all good things must come to an end. 

“I—” 

“It—” 

You both start and stop talking at the same time. When it’s made obvious you intend to stay silent until he speaks his piece, he motions to you with his hands, insisting you go first. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Chrollo,” you say, your voice softening. It’s amazing how you can feel your previously discarded sheepishness returning in real-time. Amazing and annoying. “I, uh, hope you enjoy the event.” 

“Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he insists. Then, for such a well-spoken man, he goes uncharacteristically quiet. Deliberating on some issue you’ll never be privy to. “You’ve already helped me a lot, but could I possibly ask for one more thing?” 

You give a nod.

“May I have your phone number?” 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

You continue staring at him.

He continues staring at you. 

His request echoes through your head like it was spoken in a vast cavern. Phone number… phone number... you have one of those. He is asking for it. He wants to remain in touch. Indeed, that is what the statement normally means. Ah, it must be in a platonic sense! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially since you both share many interests. Not many of your friends are chomping at the bit to discuss if obtaining the philosopher’s stone was a literal practice or meant to be interpreted metaphorically. 

Whoops, you left the poor guy waiting for a response. 

“S-Sure!” 

He hands you his phone without delay. You put in your contact info, then hold it up for him to take. His fingers brush over yours when he picks it back up and you shiver. 

Well, that was certainly nice. You’re forming a blossoming friendship. You love making new friends. The word repeats in your head as if it were a broken record. Friends, friends, friends. Don’t look too into this. Put your magnifying glass down, brain. The stupid three pounds of gray matter delight in tormenting you with outrageous ideas and conclusions. There’s nothing flirtatious happening here. 

“Also, I hope you don’t mind my saying so…” he trails off, weaving a web you willingly allow yourself to get trapped in, “But you are very beautiful, [First].” 

… 

Ohhhh, he’s been flirting with you this entire time, hasn’t he? 

-

Going on a date is a harrowing experience. 

For some unknown reason, your traitorous amygdala regards going to a café at noon with the same severity it would if a lion were actively chasing you down. Your flight or fight response raises the banners of war. The army it amasses digs its trenches, readies the cannons, its matches lit to fire off the artillery on standby. Who is the dreaded opponent, one may ask? No one. Absolutely no one. Incredibly enough, you can actively recognize this fact, and still, your physiological response claims it knows better. 

Social anxiety is so stupid. You thought you and your body were supposed to be on the same team. Whatever inspired this mutiny, whether it be serotonin deficiency or some other science-y term you can’t pronounce, you most certainly don’t appreciate it. 

To be fair, your parent’s reaction didn’t inspire much confidence. Your dad was asking for information on Chrollo you’re 90% sure could be used to conduct a background check, whereas your mom posited the idea he’s a human trafficker. You felt like a lawyer trying to plead your case for why it’s okay that an adult such as yourself may go on a date (sacrilegious, you know, premeditated murder would be more excusable). With some solid arguments and a few instances of stretching the truth (this sounds far nicer than the word lying), the tempest was dissipated. If Chrollo ever were to meet your parents, you’ll have to tell him he’s actually a sensitive, poetic soul that donates to orphanages and saves kittens from burning down buildings. He’s also celibate. More important than any of those things, though, he’s a political centrist. 

Suddenly everything in your closet either felt prudish enough to befit a woman entering the convent, or raunchy enough you’d need to wear a trench coat to leave the house unobstructed. In the end, you find a skirt that’d pass your middle school fingertip test and a cute blouse that shouldn’t land you in purgatory. 

Your hands are shaking when you go to do the winged eyeliner on your left eye. Then you sneeze while applying mascara, granting a raccoon appearance you could’ve done without. You feel wound up so tight there a mere poke could shatter you into millions of pieces. This is great. Millions of years of evolution led up to this. That selfish, inconsiderate fish should’ve never grown legs and stepped on land. Everything’s gone wrong since then. Fuck that fish. 

Ultimately, you succumb and take one of your ‘stage fright’ medications. If it’s doing anything to help, you can’t tell yet. 

You have to beg your dad to stop staring out the window with a pair of binoculars. 

Eventually, a sleek black car pulls in front of your house. 

Following the theme of the day, you almost trip over yourself walking out the front door. Your phone buzzes — no doubt it’s Chrollo telling you he’s here — but you decide to just go to the car rather than text him back. He must’ve spotted you, for he exits and gives you a wave. You’re grateful he did that while a considerable distance away. There was a time a guy waved at you and you thought he wanted a high five. Needless to say, that was a traumatic incident no amount of therapy could help alleviate. 

“You look absolutely lovely,” he compliments. Your Broca’s area temporarily malfunctions at this bold declaration. Fortunately, you gather yourself fast enough to stop yourself from saying “you too”. 

“Thank you,” the phrase comes out as smooth as butter. You silently congratulate yourself for your immaculate delivery of two words. “Wow… you have such a nice car. And here I thought you were a fellow member of the middle class. Am I allowed to touch this?” 

Chrollo chuckles, having gotten used to the peculiar way you word things after all your electronic communication. No matter how you expressed yourself, he still texted you back, so you figured he must be okay with whatever it is you’re doing. He would’ve blocked you by now otherwise. 

His reply comes as he holds the passenger side door open. “Ah, don’t worry. There was a bit of a mixup at the car rental place. I wasn’t expecting something of this quality either.” 

You tuck this piece of knowledge away for later, should any sugar daddy-esque allegations be thrown your way. One can never be too prepared. 

Sinking into the leather seat is a luxurious experience, although it's cold against the exposed area of your thighs. Chrollo slides into the driver’s seat not long after and sets the car into drive. You silently wonder if your neighbors think you’ve gotten into an Uber. 

The short trip to the café soothes your electrically fried nerves. You’re once again reminded of how good he is at making you forget your anxiety, he could put SSRIs out of business. Or maybe the propranolol is finally working. Whichever it may be, by the time you both order your drinks, you feel more giddy than nervous. Is it a good idea to drink a caffeinated beverage when anxiety threatens to drag you into limbo at any second? Probably not. Does that mean you’re going to wisely choose a different beverage? Nope. 

The sunlight is harsher in the afternoon, but you find this is offset by an occasional breeze. No one else is present in the outdoor dining area except for you and Chrollo. You choose the seat facing a row of bushes so you can observe the house finches and house sparrows fluttering about. One little fella is helping itself to a dirt bath in the freshly spread-out mulch. You coo at the adorable display, pointing it out to Chrollo who admits it is a precious sight. You’ve made it your raison d'être to convince him that every bird is equally fascinating, whether it be a rainbow lorikeet or a common pigeon. 

He takes the first sip of the drink you recommended. 

“Well? What do you think?” 

“It’s good,” he decides with a smile. “I can see why you get it so often.” 

“Right? I’ve thought about conducting an Ocean’s Eleven type heist to get the ingredients they use to make it.” 

“Oh? Do you grant a moral exception to thievery?” 

Despite how lightheartedly he phrases this, his eyes have a certain intensity to them. You mull over the question for this reason. 

“Hm… it depends, I guess? Some people need to steal to survive. I probably wouldn’t care if a rich person or mega-corporation got stolen from either,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at your last statement and you hastily add, “A-As long as no one gets hurt, of course.” 

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “Your reasoning is very cute.” 

You groan and shrink back into the garden chair. “I know, I know, that probably came off as terribly naive and self-contradictory… the issue is complex. Giving a one-size-fits-all type of consensus feels impossible. How about you? What do you think?” 

“Coveting is mankind’s original sin,” Chrollo begins. He’s using a tone that tells you to prepare for an in-depth explanation. “It’s a theme that’s recurrent throughout history. David and Bathsheba, Hades and Persephone, Heathcliff and Catherine… we always want what we cannot have. This dilemma never leaves us entirely. We either ignore it, despair in it, or succumb to it. The desire to steal is as involuntary as the diaphragm contracting for us to breathe or the electric signals that cause our heart to beat.” 

A house finch begins its soulful serenade in the background. 

“Wouldn’t you say that calling it involuntary implies we can’t control it, though?” You query. 

“The only way to exercise total control over it is to kill it.” 

“Some parts of us are better off dead,” you decide. “Getting what you want doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. The examples you listed… maybe they were happy for a time, but ultimately, their transgressions caught up to them.” 

“Is a moment of bliss not worth a lifetime of anguish?” 

“Maybe, if I was a sensualist.” 

He rests his chin on his fist, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Is that what you’re saying I am, darling?” 

Your eyes widen and you almost choke on your drink at the unexpected pet name. Warmth floods your cheeks and you take a long second to recompose yourself. Your blatant display of embarrassment further fuels his amusement, he actually chuckles. You consider kicking him under the table, but decide that isn’t very ladylike. Then you remember it's the twenty-first century, and to honor your feminist ancestors, you scrunch up a napkin into a ball and fling it at him. Although the aerodynamics of your makeshift projectile are questionable, it almost hits him. Until he catches it with admittedly impressive reflexes. 

“You have a good throwing arm.” 

“And you should consider retiring from your white-collar job to join a baseball team,” you take a sip of your delicious drink. This is definitely the most memorable date you’ve been on. “But no, I don’t think you’re a sensualist. I honestly don’t know how I’d classify you. You’re jaded… almost misanthropic. You acknowledge the world for what it is, but it’s like you once thought it could be better. You don’t care to be proven right or wrong about it anymore, you want something else.” 

“Ah… when put that way, I must seem pathetic,” he muses, his casual air hardly matching the severity of the words spoken. 

“Not at all!” Your passionate outcry appears to momentarily take him aback. “If you’re still looking for something, that means deep down, you have hope you might eventually find it. To me, that’s admirable.” 

He regards you for a few moments, before closing his eyes, his countenance strangely content. “You’re a very interesting woman, [First].” 

“Pfft, not really.” 

“I’m afraid this a point I’ll have to insist on,” or so he says, but you both know he secretly relishes his contrarian ways. “I have to wonder, though. How is it you came to gather any of this about me?” 

“Your opinion on books.” 

He blinks. “Pardon?” 

“We interpret media through a lens that’s formed by our experiences, so… I dunno. You can just infer a lot from what a person gets caught up with in a story.” 

In Chrollo’s case, what he doesn’t pay attention to is equally telling, although it took you a while to notice his unique display of apathy. He’d brush on certain themes while giving a rather surface-level commentary. Playing it safe, almost. He still had such an excellent way of weaving his words, that telling it came from another person's loom was difficult. It wasn’t until you hit on a subject he truly cared for that you could tell the difference. He’d give insights so particular to him that they must contain the true essence of his character. 

Even if it is a mere glimmer. 

He speaks your name.

“Hm?” 

“About what I’m searching for…” he unwraps the napkin you unceremoniously threw his way earlier, smooths out the wrinkles, then returns it. “I think I may have found it.” 

-

Everything has a way of escalating faster than you anticipated. 

You’re about thirty minutes into the movie Perfect Blue. For some time now, you’ve been praising its merits to Chrollo, who recently said you should watch it together. This begged the question of where. In the months since you’ve begun dating, while your parents have taken a liking to him, you didn’t think the subject matter of the movie should be proudly displayed in your living room. 

To remedy this, Chrollo suggested watching it in his hotel room. 

You couldn’t fully explain your initial apprehension if you tried. You felt comfortable around him and have been alone together plenty. Yet for some reason, being alone with a man in a hotel room produced this mental image you weren’t sure you were ready for. He never pushed you or asked why you seemed hesitant to take things further than kissing and some light petting. His lack of questioning had the unintended side effect of birthing different doubts. 

Does he not want anything else? Is he only acting like it doesn’t bother him? Will a day come when he tires of your squeamishness and simply moves on? 

It’s this taunting mantra that haunted you in the lobby, the elevator, then the long, impersonal hallway to his room. 

Your chest feels heavy enough that you wonder if lead has filled your lungs. 

When he sat next to you on the couch, you barely registered his presence, much less his question if the temperature in the room felt agreeable. At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Then his hand began to meander, although his attention never left the screen. He played with your hair. Gently stroked your forearm. His hand wandered down, down, down, to the hem of your skirt. He straightens the lightly bunched fabric out. Your heart pounds. 

Chrollo’s fingers stay there, seemingly placated. 

During the scene where Mima sees her reflection as her idol persona, his hand creeps onto the exposed skin of your thighs. He gives it a gentle, tentative squeeze. A soft gasp leaves you and your attention turns to him. Immediately, your eyes meet his in the dark. The side of his face is lightly illuminated by an array of cool tones. He uses his free hand to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing your lower lip. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He speaks the question with such rapture, low and quiet. 

Your heart violently hits your ribcage like it’s trying to burst free. 

Silently, you nod. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against yours. There’s a pleasant buzz that tries so hard to overpower the frantic adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your body is at war with itself; indulgence or indignance. It’s a conflict that’ll never have a winner. You want to enjoy it — and you are, you think — so why does your biological makeup hold you as a prisoner without ransom? He tastes nice, feels nice. He did everything right. You don’t want to tremble at what’s a normal aspect of a relationship as if it were death itself hanging over your head. 

It’s this mounting frustration at your condition that spurs you into action. 

While maintaining the languid kiss, you situate yourself on his lap, a gesture that causes him to inhale sharply. He may be as surprised at your boldness as you are. You snake your arms around his neck and intensify the kiss. Humming, he reciprocates your ardor. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you grant him entry. He tastes of dark chocolate and mint, a combination you wish you could get drunk on, if only to put your tense body at ease. 

One hand squeezes and massages your thigh, the other cups your feverish face. In this position, you’re afforded no modesty. You can feel your skirt hiking up, exposing more of you. His fingers explore the new territory. They venture dangerously close to your panties, though he doesn’t go beyond there, as if respecting an invisible barrier. The cocktail of emotions this invokes is impossible to properly sort through. 

Can he feel the heat emanating from your body? Your pulse which finds new highs every minute? You want to lose yourself, but you can’t, your anxiety always drags you back kicking and screaming. It is an unforgiving warden that thinks you’d be better off in a cell. 

Chrollo admires you when you pull back, in desperate need of air. You’re starting to feel dizzy and you don’t know if it’s the right kind. There’s something hard forming beneath where you sit. His lust for you is apparent, and you want to please, want to be normal. It should be fun. Your friends regale you with stories of taking strangers home and never feeling more than butterflies in their stomach. That’s what you want. Not this contortion of the aforementioned organ that makes you think your insides are slowly liquifying. 

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, each one growing more shallow, more panicked. He finds other ways to entertain himself, namely, by lavishing your clammy skin with kisses. Your jawline, neck, then collarbone. He’s so calm you think you might be envious. Finally, he works his way back up, teasing your earlobe with his teeth, his breath warm as it fans against you. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

“[First],” his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Garbled, distant. “Should we take this to the bedroom?” 

You break into too many shards to fix. 

You get up. Straighten your skirt. You think you mutter something about needing a moment. Your legs don’t feel right. They move anyway. The bathroom’s door knob is like ice. You grab a hand towel. Turn on the faucet. Soak the towel until it drips water down the sink basin. Sit on the floor. The tiles are almost as cold enough to help. You place the towel around your neck. Your ears are ringing and you wish they’d stop. You hug your legs to your chest. What is it you’re supposed to do? Breathe? 

It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass. 

It always does. 

Just hold on a bit longer. 

Feeling comes back in your hands first. It spreads throughout your body, though the antidote is far too late. Exhaustion is the next thing you register. The kind that seeps into your cells, makes your limbs feel like dead weight. Cognition returns as well. You remember where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done. 

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced one of these. Somehow, it’s worse than you remember. Infinitely worse. 

A shiver runs down your spine. Has it always been so cold? You wonder what temperature your body was running at for you not to have noticed sooner. 

How nice it is that your homeostasis decided to return. Is your sympathetic nervous system giving itself a pat on the back? Celebrating and popping champagne bottles at yet another job well done? We’ve done it successfully again, folks, you imagine it cheering. We’ve stopped her from doing something completely normal and harmless! 

You’d laugh, but this time, you can’t bring yourself to. 

As tempting as it is to stay here and pray for the tile floor to swallow you whole, you sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so you’re left with the far less appealing option of being an adult and facing the predicament you’re in. Getting back up, you’re treated to a glimpse of your reflection. 

The change in your complexion would make any onlooker think you’ve seen a ghost. 

Abruptly, you’re fourteen again, trying to get your mom’s attention so you can beg her to take you home because the social gathering of ten or so people is just too much. Next, you’re fifteen, talked into some weekend youth getaway because saying ‘no’ makes you feel guilty and the car ride has another two hours remaining. You feel sick, terribly sick, but you don’t want to get sick, because then your peers would think you’re strange, so you sit there and endure. Then you’re sixteen, locked in the stall of your high school bathroom, trying not to pass out because you think it’d be an inconvenience to anyone that happened upon you. 

You thought you were over this. You’ve done the therapy, read the self-help books, and taken your medication every day like clockwork. 

What’s left for you to do? 

Why does it always come back? 

Chrollo asks if everything’s alright when you walk back over to the couch. You say yes. He then asks if he can get you anything. A glass of water, please, is your reply.

You can tell he’s examining you when he hands the glass over. Your face warms — not in a fun way. The television screen is dark and yet you’re fixated on it like it’s the most intriguing thing in the world. Going from feeling as if you’re a stranger in your own body to being hyper-aware of everything never fails to give you whiplash. You can hear the low thrum of the air conditioning, footsteps coming from the hallway, the steady drip of the sink he filled your glass from. You think to rub your eyes then stop yourself; that’d smudge your mascara. It’d be nice if he could at least think you’re pretty as you struggle to hold yourself together. 

“Was it something I did?” Chrollo questions. He almost sounds… curious, a concept you furiously scrub from your head. You’re exhausted and your brain is waving the white flag. Attributing false interpretations to his words is not going to help. 

“N-No, not at all, I, um,” you have the words, you just don’t want to say them, so you opt for taking another drink instead. The glass runs out of water, your safe haven disappearing with it. “Just… a panic attack. It happens… sometimes.” 

“Entirely unprompted?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. “Kind of…? It— nothing about it is exactly logical. I can know I’m fine, believe it too, and still, that doesn’t matter. It’ll happen anyway. I guess I have some reservations about that level of physical intimacy, but what my body decides to do is completely overkill.” 

“You always minimize the role your anxiety plays in your life,” Chrollo points out. You’re grasping the glass tight enough that your knuckles hurt. “You can’t mention it to me without making light of it in some way. Is there a reason for that?” 

Well, he’s got you there. 

You’re about to joke and ask if he’s the one studying the behavioral sciences, when you realize that’d just be proving his point. 

So uncharacteristic acrimony bubbles to the surface instead.

“A reason? I can give you more than one. It’s stupid, it’s annoying. The most simple things become like a fucking life or death experience for me and I can’t stand it,” you feel tears gather at your lower lashline but you’re too far gone to care. It’s a good thing your mascara is waterproof. “And then I… I think sex sounds nice, but when it actually gets to the moment, I feel so guilty and anxious and wrong that I leave my partner frustrated or thinking they’re some sort of monster.” 

Usually, Chrollo's countenance is difficult to read, but there’s this raw emotion that makes itself known. Understanding? Relief? You don’t know for certain. It disappears without a trace, leaving you no way to confirm or deny your intuition. It’s probably too fried to be reliable, anyway. 

“Hm… you must think all this would put me off, then. Make me want to move on to someone else.” 

A knife stabbing you in the gut and twisting its blade until your viscera turned to mush would hurt less. 

“Sweetheart, I was already aware that it was worse than what you let on,” his voice sounds so kind and near, you marvel at it, the gravitational pull drawing you in. You barely realize he’s brought you into an embrace. Your cheek is against his chest, right above his heart. His has a calm, steady rhythm, whereas yours is picking back up once more. “Your avoidance of talking on the phone, how soft your voice gets when interacting with strangers, the way you act like you’re an inconvenience by asking for the slightest assistance.” 

The tears you tried holding in break free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. 

“I find these qualities of yours very endearing. You can go from passionately speaking about your interests over dinner to going shy the second the waiter walks over. You care so much, feel so much… it’s a wonder to me. You experience this life in the exact opposite manner I do.”

With the hand he isn’t using to keep you secure against him, he rubs your back up and down. 

“Ah, my poor, sweet girl. What a tender heart you have,” he whispers. His grip on you tightens. That’s when you hear it — the undeniable sound of his heart beating a bit faster than it did before. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not after all the effort I put into stealing it for myself. No, I’m almost hurt you entertained the thought. Have I ever treated you with anything less than the utmost care? Hm?” 

Chrollo starts to pull you away from him, yet you refuse, clinging adamantly to his torso in an attempt to hide your face. He ignores the way you shake your head and by exerting the slightest force, achieves his original goal. His fingers find purchase on your chin, which he tilts upward, allowing himself an unobscured view of your puffy eyes and runny makeup. He smiles, wiping away your tears with such gentleness, he must think you’re made of porcelain. 

Sniffling, you remember he asked you a question, and attempt cobbling together a coherent response. Such is the polite thing to do. “I guess not.” 

“And why do you think that is?” 

“... The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an in-depth case study for your future dissertation on GAD and SAD?” 

His visage lands somewhere between mild bemusement and exacerbation. “I know you’re smarter than that. Try again.” 

“My winning personality, once you wade through all the mental illness?” 

“That certainly plays a role.” 

“I know I’m cute, too. I suppose that helps. Otherwise, I’d be completely and utterly fucked.” 

“Yes, yes — you are terribly cute.” 

Sensing your hesitancy to land on a definitive answer, he decides to spell it out himself. “I’m fond of you, to a degree I previously thought myself incapable of. I have a… callous disposition, for lack of a better word. Yet for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve never cared for subjective terms like ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but… if there is goodness in this world, it’d be found in you.” 

Chrollo’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone as he speaks, seemingly bewitched by the glittering stream your tears left behind. Tangible proof of your emotions that tumult like a tempest, whereas his often remains an unmoving body of water. 

You take his cheeks in your hands and glare at him. This time, when your lower lip trembles, it’s with righteous anger, not sorrow. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re the world’s biggest villain?” 

His eyes slightly widen — you’ve never used a tone like this with him before, or anyone else, for that matter  — though his composure doesn’t wane for long. 

“So what if you don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows? You aren’t heartless; you just know the dangers of putting your heart on display for everyone else to see. I can’t blame you for that, from what you’ve told me.”

He’s never been particularly forthcoming about sharing details from his past. What you do know is that he grew up in extreme poverty, without parents or a guardian, scraping by with some other children in a similar situation. You never pushed to learn more. There was this quiet melancholy that possessed him in the rare moments he shared glimpses of his childhood. The specters that haunted him could almost be felt lingering in the atmosphere, turning the air heavy and thick. 

“You lost a precious friend in such a cruel way. That loss of innocence, it’s unforgivable, it’s completely unfair…!”

This time, your tears aren’t for you, they’re for a little boy you’ll never know and a girl that you couldn’t if you tried. “I don’t get why you’re so harsh on yourself. You act like you’ve done something unforgivable.” 

He parts and closes his lips. Whatever he intended to say, he must’ve decided against it. Instead, he pulls you back against him, almost greedily. He presses kisses atop your head then murmurs a few words you can’t quite catch. Your body is deprived of energy, having flickered through almost every major emotion a human being can experience. If your parents wouldn’t have fussed over the act, you could’ve fallen asleep on him for the night. 

The person who inadvertently caused your blistering anxiety is also the best balm for it. 

It’s unexplainable, teetering on the edge of delusion, this sentiment that he could shield you from all harm. He’s always so sure of himself when you remain plagued by indecisiveness. He can talk you out of any irrational thought, anchor you when a stressful situation is beginning to be too much, and understand you almost eerily well. He’s able to piece together your chaotic thought processes with next to no context. He listens to you, remembers everything you say (and you mean everything), and genuinely values your input, even if he disagrees with your opinions. 

This level of an intimate connection is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

“No one’s ever cried for my sake before,” he thinks aloud. He’s stroking your back again, almost mindlessly. You swear there’s something magical about his touch. 

“Do you think I’m weird?” 

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you,” he decides. As always, he’s clever at avoiding questions he doesn’t wish to answer. “Currently, the one that stands out to me the most would be…” 

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you. 

“Warm.” 

-

The arboretum is far different in autumn. Green leaves have transitioned into rich auburn and golden shades, hesitant buds nowhere to be seen. The grass beneath your feet is crunchier, the foliage dry and scattered, almost as if it were trying to form a protective sheath for the earth. No longer can you hear the melody of grasshoppers and buzzing from busy bees. The wind whistles when it blows, the underlying frostiness biting at your cheeks and ears. 

“Ah, would you look at that, it’s a junco,” Chrollo points out. You cover your mouth to muffle a gasp. Thanks in part to your guidance, he’s gotten better at identifying different types of birds. While you’d like to think it’s because he appreciates them too, you’re convinced he finds your excited reaction far more interesting. 

The little blob of black and white hops to and fro, using its feet to rummage for anything edible. You silently lament your lack of birdseed. You’ll have to settle for cheering the tiny friend on from afar. 

Hand in hand, you both traverse the area of your original meeting. Sweet nostalgia swirls in your chest. You’ve always found it befuddling how a single chance encounter can permanently change the trajectory of your life. In the moment, you have no idea how your actions will go on to form ripples that influence the future. Whether this is chaos theory or some other fancy metaphysical-sounding concept, you haven’t the slightest clue. 

What you do know is that meeting Chrollo was a catalyst for something greater. 

A wave of chills cascades over you.

“Are you cold?” He inquires, his tone having this ‘I told you so’ quality to it that you don’t appreciate. You’re wearing a light beige, plaid fitted blazer, that while chic, doesn’t have much insulation. You waved off his initial concern by saying you’ll warm up once you both get to walking around. So much for that. 

“Cold is a mindset,” the chattering of your teeth doesn’t do much to help your cause. He raises an eyebrow. “Mind over matter… mind over matter…” 

Chrollo shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick, dear.” 

“You sound like my grandma.” 

“The one who tried taking my head wrappings off, or the one who kicked me?” 

“A combination of the two that coalesces their tendency to fuss over me.” 

“You’re very easy to fuss over,” Chrollo chuckles at the face you make at him. “You’re absolutely precious. It’s a mystery to me how you make the smallest acts endearing.” 

At this, you strike a dumb pose, winking at him all the while. “Aha, it’s no mystery. You have my irresistible charm to thank for that.” 

He sighs wistfully. “Indeed I do.” 

Although the sage gardens behind the Starling House are no longer in bloom, you decide to swing by anyway. The plans for the remainder of your day follow a similarly simple yet pleasant precedent. You’re going to go window shopping in a quaint commercial district, grab something to eat at a pub, then end the night off with a movie. Chrollo’s trying to convince you to watch some indie flick that’s in black and white and uses a 1.19:1 ratio. You want to watch Alien, a classic he’s never seen like the weirdo he is. 

The walk isn’t long or monotonous. It’s so idyllic that you could believe you’re the only two people in the world. 

However, that isn’t the case. Upon entering the garden, you’re quick to note the presence of another.  

A young woman is kneeling down, murmuring under her breath. She’s acting as if she’s lost something and can’t find it. Frowning, you detach yourself from Chrollo, approaching her with the intent to offer your assistance. She doesn’t lift her head upon hearing the obvious sounds of your footfall. She just continues blindly grasping at the ground. 

“Miss?” You ask, to which her entire body freezes. “Did you drop something? I could help you look for it.” 

She mutters another incomprehensible jumble of words. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

You lean over in an attempt to hear her better. 

Then, much to your confusion, she enunciates your full-given name. Even while doing this, she doesn’t spare you a single glance. 

“Have to… have to…” she’s back to being difficult to make sense of, “I have to…”

 A strange sensation possesses you.

Have you met this woman somewhere before? You do a quick mental scan of her disheveled appearance and come up with nothing definitive. Her hair is matted, her complexion sallow and her cheeks sunken in. Her disoriented state stirs concern within you. It’s a good sign that she’s still conscious and exhibiting motor functions, but the longer you examine her, the more you can tell she isn’t in a proper state of mind. You don’t want to leave her out here alone in such a vulnerable state. You try to push aside the uncanny feeling that came from her apparently recognizing you when you’re certain you’ve never met. 

Chrollo speaks your name. Turning around, you face him just in time to catch a surreal expression forming on his countenance. His eyes widen slightly, his lips part, then he’s reaching out for you. 

The passage of time grinds temporarily to a halt. 

And then there is a visceral burst of energy. 

It’s as if a blizzard manifests from the direction the woman is hunched over in. There’s this thick, harrowing tension that causes your legs to buckle at the knees. Swirls of negative emotions wrap around you in shadowy tendrils. Grief. Hysteria. Rage. Bitterness. Most notable, however, is the sickening yearning to inflict harm. How can a human being produce and project such raw feelings? It’s like hatred itself has been given a palpable form, submerging you in a swamp of mire. 

You don’t understand what’s happening to you, but you do have this primal foreboding that the longer you’re exposed to it, the more endangered you’ll be. 

In the millisecond it takes for you to blink, Chrollo is no longer in your line of sight. 

It’s strange, you think. There are no knives, guns, explosives; or anything that could hurt you in the traditional sense. In a way you could understand and reliably assess the threat level of. 

And still, despite this uncertainty, you have this unshakable premonition that death isn’t far away. 

-

You wake up in a bed that is not your own. 

Your body is drenched in sweat, your muscles sore, and your head feels as if it’s being clamped in a vice-like grip. Trying to get up proves to be a poor decision. Nausea and dizziness force you to lie back down. You take shallow, frantic breaths, wincing at yet another wave of throbbing coming from your temples. Your senses aren’t reliable either. The first few times you open your eyes, dark spots dot your vision. Then there’s your hearing, or lack of. There’s this distant ringing that while slowly fading, isn’t replaced by anything better. Your hearing grows so muffled you almost think earplugs have been jammed in your ear canal. 

Groaning, you manage to lift yourself off the mattress with trembling arms. The dark spots fade away enough for you to make out your surroundings. 

You’re in Chrollo’s hotel room, lying on his bed. 

It’s nighttime. The digital clock sitting on the bedside table reads 3:40 a.m.  

The next thing you do is feel around for your phone. It should be in the back pocket of your jeans, but it isn’t there. 

The brisk air takes your breath away when you tug the comforter off. Your body groans with protest at all the movement, yet you ignore its request to lay back down, the situation at hand far too perplexing. Your outfit is the same as the one you put on this morning, aside from your boots, which sit together near the wall. You then assess your body for any physical injuries, finding nothing visible to explain your current malaise. Are you hungover? Frowning, you dismiss the idea. You know your tolerance well and never try pushing it. 

Taking small steps and using the wall as leverage, you make your way over to the adjoined bathroom. You fill a dental cup with water and down it instantly. After satiating your thirst, you call out for Chrollo, your voice gravelly with sleep. 

No response. 

Sighing, you slink over to the closed bedroom door. Your equilibrium steadies itself enough that you only need to grab onto something every few steps. The handle doesn’t budge. You try again, exerting more force — still nothing. The subsequent attempts end in the same manner. There’s no denying it, it’s been locked. That begs the question of why. Safety, maybe? It’s possible Chrollo stepped out for whatever reason and wanted to ensure no one could get to you. Then again, that’s what the deadbolt on the door leading to the hotel hallway is for. 

You don’t want to start rattling the door and making a scene when you’re certain there’s a solid explanation for this. He has to come back eventually, his stuff is still here. Although, you can’t help noticing how sparse his personal belongings are. The book he was reading no longer sits on the bedside table, the framed picture of the two of you gifted by your parents isn’t on the wardrobe either. Next, you check the closet, finding it in a similarly desolate state. You once pillaged a shirt of his when you grew tired of wearing a dress, so you know its usual presentation. The hangers remain on the rack yet everything else is gone.

Chrollo told you his job had placed him in this city indefinitely. Is he planning to move to another hotel? 

Not knowing what else to do, you sit on the edge of the bed. The former pounding in your head has soothed into a far less egregious dull ache. You must’ve been asleep for a decent chunk of time, this initial grogginess is what you experience upon first waking up in the morning. You hope you weren’t unconscious for too long. It's an unsettling thought, being in that vulnerable state, totally shut off from the world. 

A few minutes of absentmindedly admiring the twinkling lights that make up the city skyline’s pass. 

Then you hear the door handle jingle. 

Chrollo silently examines you. It’s almost as if he’s gauging your entire being, anticipating what is to come. His mouth is set in a straight line and he’s standing unnervingly still. There’s this intensity to him that has you breaking off eye contact. Your mouth goes dry and you temporarily forget how to form words. You had so many burning questions in his absence, why is it that they've been wiped clean from your head now that he’s here? 

When you find the courage to look up at him again, there’s not a vestige of his former expression. The grave lines have smoothened out and you no longer believe you’re face to face with a stranger. 

“How are you feeling?” He’s quick to close the distance. The mattress dips, adjusting to his presence by your side.  

“Oh, uh, not the best, but… I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you say. Silvery moonlight shines into the room, illuminating him in an otherworldly veil. Goosebumps line your skin when he takes the side of your face into his hand. He’s cold. “I’m mostly just confused. Is— is everything okay? Why am I here?” 

“How much do you remember?” 

Remember, remember… that’s right, you hadn’t given that much thought. You pick through your hazy memories aloud. “Well, we were at the arboretum, just walking around. I remember heading to the gardens behind the Starling House. Then… um…” 

You squint and furrow your eyebrows together. It’s as if your recollection was a film reel that had been trimmed after that point. You try piecing together a mental image of the garden. Hummingbirds? Sage? No, that isn’t right, you’re thinking of its spring appearance. The colors would be more muted, there’d be less shrubbery. The image grows sharper.

Then there’s a shadow. 

Vaguely human-shaped, situated right in the middle of the mosaic you’re trying to form. Their outline isn’t solid, it’s splotchy, like water paint left to run on a canvas. 

Finally, something clicks. 

“That woman!” You exclaim. The corner of his lips twitch downward. “That’s right! Is she okay? She seemed so out of it.” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“How is that possible? You were—” 

“Let’s focus on you for now,” he cuts you off. There’s a finality in his voice you can’t bring yourself to challenge. “Can you tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing?” 

“Um, some disorientation and a headache.”

“I see. I’ll get you some painkillers, then.” 

You grab his wrist to stop him when he starts getting up. “I’d really prefer you told me what happened first.”

When he doesn’t immediately acquiesce to your request, you quietly add, “Please.” 

His eyes soften at your gentle, uncertain timbre. He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Earlier, when we arrived at the garden, you grew lightheaded and fainted.” 

You take a moment to process the information. It seems plausible enough, yet the more you mull over it, the more little details start to catch your attention.

“Okay…” you trail off, pursing your lips. A vengeful throb from your head causes you to wince. He notices — frowns — then places a featherlight kiss against your forehead. The thoughtful gesture doesn’t invoke any pleasant warm fuzzy sensations. “So I fell unconscious for over ten hours and you didn’t… call an ambulance…?” 

“That is correct.” 

You shuffle in your seat, momentarily taken aback at how easygoing he’s acting about the entire ordeal. “Why?” 

“I’ve been monitoring your vitals,” he reassures. Sensing your growing apprehension, he adds, “I can promise that you were never in serious danger. I would’ve acted accordingly if you were.” 

The phrase ‘acted accordingly’ doesn’t tell you much either. What does he mean by that? Is there some threshold you needed to enter for him to have taken you to the hospital? Your various volunteer experiences with the city’s vulnerable communities taught you that if a person is unresponsive for over a minute, an ambulance should be called, just to be on the safe side. Besides, isn’t that just common sense? Chrollo is an intelligent man. You can’t fathom any line of reasoning that’d justify not erring on the side of caution. 

You glance at the clock again. 4:03 a.m. glows in the dim light of the room. It’s late. You wonder what your parents—

Holy shit. 

“Do my mom and dad know?” You glance around as if expecting to find them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have insisted on calling emergency services if you were unconscious for that long. 

“I didn’t inform them, no.” 

“What?” You make no attempts to tone down your incredulity. “Then— they must be out of their minds with worry! My phone, where’s my phone? I need to tell them I’m okay!” 

You shoot up off the bed too fast and your body doesn’t take kindly to the rushed movement. Debilitating lightheadedness causes you to lose your balance. Chrollo steadies your swaying form and helps sit you back down. You scoot away from him as far as you can, your thoughts an absolute mess. Nothing here is making sense. It’s not even a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces, there’s almost nothing to work with at all. 

He’s staring at you in that strange, anticipatory manner again. It makes your stomach churn. 

“My phone, Chrollo,” you hold your hand out. “There’s no way you don’t have it.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” he sounds apologetic too, which makes your subsequent temper flare up even worse. 

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, exasperation winning out. You were trying to be reasonable, but that is over and done with. “You’re acting like— like there’s nothing weird happening! Can you please take this seriously? You’re really starting to freak me out.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, so I wanted to remain calm for your sake.” 

Your tongue couldn’t properly form words if your life depended on it. Sure, remaining calm in a crisis is helpful, but he isn’t acting like this is a crisis. He’s treating it as if he was burdened with sitting you down to relay bad news that no one else had the heart to share. 

You’re starting to think you don’t know the person you’re talking to. 

“For my sake,” you repeat in a wry deadpan. “If that’s true, then tell me what’s actually going on, Chrollo. Because I know you’re bullshitting me.” 

Not calling the ambulance or informing your parents, withholding your phone… then there’s the matter of how he got you here in the first place. Did he carry you through the lobby? No good samaritans thought it was unusual to see a man carrying an unconscious woman up to his room? Hotel staff these days are trained to have a vigilant eye for these situations too. Not one person thought it might be a good idea to ring up law enforcement over such a blatantly suspicious act? 

Nothing is adding up. 

“I’m being more forthcoming than you think,” Chrollo says, as if he’s doing you a favor. He tries reaching out for your hand again, only this time, you don’t allow him. “Everything I’ve said and intend to say is the truth, even if you don’t particularly like it.” 

That’s a hell of a creative way of putting it!

“Who was that woman earlier? What did she do to me?” 

“I have someone ironing out the details, but from what I’ve gathered, she was sent with the intention of killing you. I don’t believe she was aware of the fact herself until you entered her vicinity, triggering the necessary condition for the true culprit’s ability to activate. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to get so close.” 

Someone was sent to kill you? You? A run-of-the-mill college student who has no enemies to speak of? It’s not like you’re a part of the fucking mob. That can’t be right, not to mention the bizarre jargon he’s using. There’d be no plausible motive. If he says she was sent, and you choose to believe he isn’t making this all up, that implies it was premeditated. Not a spur-of-the-moment decision. That’d almost make more sense. 

That is, unless… 

You stare at him, eyebrows knitting together. 

“If you’re telling the truth — and right now, that’s a big fucking if — does this have something to do with you?” 

“That’s my clever girl,” he praises, entirely devoid of condescension. The pure fondness in his voice makes you sick. It’s almost as if he’s delighting in watching you piece this nightmare together. “Yes, you haven’t deliberately done anything to earn the wrath of the wrong people. They simply know getting to me is near impossible, hence their decision to go for the next best thing instead. That’d be you, dear.” 

“Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “Why… why am I not freaking out more? I should be hysterical, or, or— I don’t know…” 

“Beta blockers,” he reveals. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. “In anticipation of how… touchy this conversation was going to be, I thought it might be best for you to be in a good headspace while receiving this information for the first time.” 

“You drugged me?” 

“If that’s how you want to look at it.” 

“Because that’s how it is!” 

A lump forms in your throat and lodges itself there. Are you stuck in a hellacious dream? Or hallucinating, perhaps? Visual hallucinations aren’t supposed to be this cohesive or clear. There has to be another explanation. Something you’re missing that’d make this all go away. The beta blocker admission certainly holds weight. Your heart rate, while slightly elevated, isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as it should be. It’d explain the general malaise, fatigue, and lightheadedness too. That, and you doubt you’d be able to think this clearly if there wasn’t something heavy pumping through your system. 

Your eyes hesitantly settle on Chrollo, who sits there perfectly still and almost relaxed. He’s observing you like a hawk. 

“Listen,” you try using a mellower voice. He raises an eyebrow at your drastically different approach. “You had ample opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. That must mean you have my best intentions at heart, right? Why don’t we try to work something out, because this isn’t sustainable. My absence isn’t going to go unnoticed.” 

Chrollo sighs, heavy if not unsurprised. “Sweetheart, I’m not suffering a break from reality, although I’m sure you’d prefer to rationalize it that way. I assure you I’m lucid and everything I’ve done is intentional. You’ll come to accept it eventually.” 

It isn’t going to help, yet you feel your remaining grains of patience slip through your fingers. 

“What’s this talk about a ‘condition’ and ‘ability’, then?” You challenge. 

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d mention that,” he doesn’t sound like you landed on a reason that’d prove him wrong. “How to explain it… you once told me you think there are phenomena in this world that can’t be explained by empirical evidence. Consider this an example of that. I’m sure you must’ve felt it before you fainted. An intense, concentrated sensation that awoke your primordial fear. Bloodlust.” 

You want to argue until you run out of breath, but this description does strike a chord. Reality itself feels as if it’s drifting further and further away. In an awfully cruel twist, Chrollo and his collected disposition is the most grounding factor you have to latch onto. 

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” he finally replaces that matter-of-fact tone with something resembling compassion, “But know this: you’re not in any danger. Neither are those you care about, so long as you act sensible.” 

Shivering, you hug your arms around your chest. “How can you say that to me so easily? I thought… I thought you…” 

He’s enveloping you from behind. You didn’t even see him move. Weakly, you struggle against his hold, but you’re not in any condition to put up a fight. In the event you were, it’s doubtful it’d make much of a difference. He’s strong. It goes beyond physical strength, into some esoteric realm you’ve become forcibly acquainted with. He’s exerting this slight pressure that makes your heart skip a beat, despite the medication. It isn’t comparable to what you experienced in the garden — there’s no malice — it feels more like a warning. 

“You’re surprisingly sensitive to Nen,” he murmurs, humming contentedly when you go limp against him. His chin rests atop your head and his arms ensnare your midriff. “How interesting. No matter. Whatever your fascinating brain concocted is still true. You may think me merciless, but if you knew me, you’d find this to be my greatest act of mercy yet.” 

“I thought I did know you,” is your weak reply. You don’t recognize the sound of your voice. 

“The parts of me I wanted to show you, yes,” he moves your hair aside so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck. “And a few glimpses you gleaned in your own way. Really, you are such a sweet girl. Willing to overlook discrepancies to see the ‘good’ in me.” 

Heat rises and ignites on your cheeks. “I-I could scream, you know.” 

“You could.” 

That’s not the reaction you were expecting. 

“You’re… not going to try and stop me?” 

“No,” he responds. “I’ve always found experience to be the best teacher.” 

“You really,” you heave a humorless laugh, uncertain of what else to do, “You really don’t see anything wrong with this?” 

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, marveling at how your pulse remains steady, thanks to his intervention. 

“‘So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.’” 

“What?” 

“It’s what you said the first day I met you,” Chrollo explains, nostalgia evident. “I’ve thought about those words often. Your effulgence, your desire to do right by others. It made me wonder if there could ever be anyone more perfect for me than you. You, whose pretty neck I could snap before you’d ever realize what happened, stirred up a sentimentality in me I thought myself incapable of.” 

Sandalwood, amber, and leather. His scent is the same as that day.

Are his intentions? 

Is this a prophecy he himself ordained and always intended to see fulfilled? 

“You stole my heart, and as recompense, I will steal you. Think whatever you want about me, dear. Just don’t think I’m selfless enough to ever change my mind.” 

I an soooo late seeing this but I’m happy that this part is out~

𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝔻ℕ𝕀

Premise provided by CallaLily9 on AO3: Sweet, caring, blushing Yuuji?

Soft, sincere Toji, who said please?!

A movie deal, and near death experience?!?

TOJI SHARING HIS FEELINGS, AND SAYING HE LOVES YOU DURING SEX?!?!

Toji started off at an arbitrary level 5. Yuuji worked his way up from a 0, to say, a 7. Toji is now at like level 15. Will Yuuji also get a chance at exponential growth? Does Yuuji stand a chance? Can these separate relationships even be compared on the same scale?

TW: sex, talks of cnc, talks of somnophilia,

MasterPost

Keep reading

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Love me a Sukuna fic where the girl is just as deranged as him

Pairing: True Form Sukuna x f!reader Length: 5719 wc Synopsis:  If I was born as a blackthorn tree I’d wanna be felled by you Held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies Every three years the villages sacrifice a daughter to the King of Curses that resides on the mountain. This year, you were chosen.

CW/TW: dark content and subject matter, Heian era afab reader, heavy violence, reader is fucked up and slightly psychotic, parent smacking their child, patricide, monster fucking (it is Sukuna in his true form), stockholm syndrome lite sort of, reader brought as a sacrifice, rough and violent consensual intercourse, somnophilia, oral (fem receiving) A/N: I think that’s all the warnings? This is my first sort of…dipping the toe in the dark subject matter/content writing pool, so if you think of any other triggers or warnings, please let me know so I can add them. But here is this thing I am going to throw at you so I can get this dicknugget out of my damn brain.

They had started inviting Lord Sukuna to the harvest festival around a decade ago. It was done as a courtesy, mostly in fear of what might happen should they not invite him at all. Sometimes he attended, when he was bored enough, and sometimes he didn’t.

When he started leaving the heads of the jujutsu sorcerers they employed to kill him, that’s when they started sacrificing the women. Every three years, like clockwork, the five villages surrounding the foot of his mountain would hold council to see which of them would offer up one of their women to him that harvest. If he was pleased with the tribute, neither he nor his disciple would descend the mountain. If he wasn’t, then the parents of the girl would be gifted her heart in a box, and the elders of the village would be gifted her eyes, and the fields engulfed in flames.

Uraume was rather proud of how they would dress up the leftovers for the mortals. They would delight in the swell of pride that took over their heart as they started to hear the screams from the village below at the times when Lord Sukuna was bored with the woman supplied to him that year.

The villagers thought they could find a pattern in his tastes to offer up the best tribute to him. They tried younger women who had not yet hit their twenties, they tried more prestigious women who were paler and softer from lack of sun, they tried poor farm women who were thinner and darker from time spent in the fields and scraps on their plates. Beautiful women, women that were displeasing to the common eye, women that had bore children and women that had never been touched by men.

There was no rhyme or reason to the King of Curses whims. Sometimes he liked a certain woman and sometimes he didn’t. 

This year, it was your turn.

Keep reading

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Loved this most people don’t bother to care about whats going on in the step parents relationship or how they actually feel about y/n they usually go straight to the sexy times or half ass the explanation. Also I know this story isn’t about Sukuna but he was a real gentleman in this story, totally swoon worthy. I can’t wait to see the next parts

"Funny seeing you here, princess."

wherein you spend the friday night at a club with some friends and you unexpectedly bump into your stepfather.

gen. tags: reader attends university, afab reader, 18+ reader, toji's in his early 40s, y/n's mom married toji for the money, cheater! mom

will be multi-chaptered, kinda slow pacing and focused on the club. mentioned club is real and i've been there (10/10 it was fun)

recommend listening this with music. it'll make i rlly feel like ure in the club.

cw: age gap, stepcest, corruption kink, more tba

When your mother married Toji Fushiguro, practically everything in your life changed.

Your mother already had a stable source of income but when Toji arrived, her money tripled. When they officially got together, you moved into a new rich neighborhood and had a house big enough to be considered a manor. Heck, you even stopped your part-time job because Toji insisted to pay your whole tuition and apartment's rent for the next few years.

To top it all off, he's pretty fucking hot. The man stood 6'4 tall with dark hair and sharp yet handsome features. His body was built like a god, too. You haven't seen him shirtless yet, but by the looks of it, Toji had a six-pack and a beautifully sculpted body. And he always wore the same tightly-fit black shirts and white sweatpants every day.

You weren't complaining, though. As long as your mother was happy, you couldn't care less about Toji. Sure, you had a little crush on him but you decided to ignore it.

One way of ignoring your little crush was by never going home. You always stayed at your apartment and never even visited their house. If you did, you'd make sure to avoid Toji.

"You're joining us at Xylo later, right Y/N?" Nobara asked you, making you snap out of your thoughts.

Xylo? "I heard that getting a table reservation at that club would cost you a fortune."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" she placed a hand on your shoulder. "I know someone that can get us in within a second."

You checked your schedule on your phone. "I'll think about it..."

"But it's Xylo, Y/N! Xylo. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can party with the richest people, celebrities, and models. Would you trade that for a boring night?"

"I'd love to, but it's a Friday night. You know how my mother requires me to stay over for the weekend."

Nobara let go of your shoulders. She grinned at you, immediately reading your mind.

"So this is about your little crush on Mr. Fushiguro, huh?"

You shook your head, denying her statement. "Don't say it like that. He's my stepdad. It's weird."

"But you have a crush on him," she reminded you. "you told me about it the first time you met him."

Okay.... yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, it still wasn't going away, and yes, no one knew about it except for Nobara.

"I'm trying to avoid him, okay?" you replied with a sigh. "I'm just hoping that my little crush on him will go away."

"And that's exactly why we need to go out later! There are a bunch of hot people in Xylo. They'll make you forget about him."

You were still hesitant. You haven't gone to any clubs at all. Mainly because you were nervous. How were you supposed to even act in clubs? No one had a manual to do that.

"I have to ask my mom first."

Nobara facepalmed. "It really is your first time, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

She placed two hands on both of your cheeks, slightly squishing them. She forced you to look at her.

"Look, Y/N. You're a full grown adult. You can just lie to your mother and tell her you're sleeping over at my place. Deal?"

You bit your lip, pulling away from her hands. You looked at Nobara with a nervous smile.

"Are you sure it'lll work?"

She nodded her head. "I promise. I'll even invite a few more friends to make it fun."

Fuck it. Might as well do it, right?

"It's a deal, then."

/////

You firmly pressed the doorbell on the two-door gate painted with gold. The garden currently was being water sprayed by the sprinklers and the cars were neatly parked on the driveway. You figured that your mother was already home. So, you walked over to the front patio and opened the door.

"Mom?" you called out. "I'm home." To your surprise, no one answered. Weird. By this time, your mother would already be home. Sighing, you set down your bag and went to the kitchen to grab a snack before the weekly family dinner started.

As you approached the kitchen, you could smell a faint aroma of butter and some sauce. You could hear some soft R&B music playing behind the muffled walls. And you sure as hell could hear someone humming along with the tune.

In the kitchen was Toji, wearing his usual outfit except he had a black apron on. His hands were currently busy slicing a few vegetables. The kitchen island was also filled with different food, too. There were a few side dishes, like some mashed potatoes or salad. Meanwhile, on the cooking pan was a heavenly steak, waiting to be medium-rare cooked.

You bowed your head. "Good evening, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji paused and left the knife and vegetables at the kitchen counter. He wiped his hands and approached you with a smile.

"Still not dropping the formalities, it seems." he joked lightly.

Your cheeks reddened. God, this is why you didn't want to go home. For some reason, Toji always had his way of making you blush.

"Sorry, Mr. Fush-- I mean, Toji." you apologized. "Maybe I can help you with the cooking while we wait for mom?"

"Sure thing, princess. Just put your hair up for me." He handed you an extra-apron. You followed him and tied the apron to your back.

What? What did he mean---

"Wouldn't want your hair mixing with the food," he added to his statement and gave you the knife.

"O-of course," you muttered silently and started slicing the vegetables.

Toji continued to cook the steak. He asked you the usual questions, mainly about how your day went and what your plans were for the weekend.

You suddenly remembered Nobara's party later. Maybe if you asked Toji for permission, he'd say yes?

"Say, Toji...." you stopped slicing the vegetables.

He placed the steak on one of the plates then put a side of mashed potatoes. The way he softly handled the food with his large hands seem to linger on your mind. The apron that practically wrapped around his chest, and the god damn sweatpants that seem to hug his whole figure.

Toji took the vegetables from you. His rough hands brushed yours. He hummed in response.

"I know you and my mom value the traditional Friday night dinners we have but I was thinking, maybe I could leave early for this one?"

He chuckled at your statement. It made you blush a bit more.

"Sounds like you found yourself a date, huh?"

You shook your head and looked away.

"It isn't like that, I promise," you informed him. "It's just..."

How could you explain the situation to him? You never lied to Toji's face, ever. It felt as if he knew the truth, one way or another. And if you did lie to him, he'd find a way to make you admit it.

"I'm home!" a voice called out from the foyer. It was your mother.

Toji took off his apron and placed it on the kitchen island. "Let's discuss this later, yeah?"

You could hear faint footsteps approaching the kitchen. A few seconds in, your mother entered the room and her eyes instantly brightened the moment she saw Toji. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He softly kissed her on the lips.

"Missed you, babe." Toji greeted with another kiss.

She kissed him back. "You're back early. What's the occasion?"

"Thought I'd make something special. Y/N and I prepared dinner," he gestured towards you.

Your mother couldn't help but smile.

"You're finally warming up to Toji! I told you a little family bonding wouldn't hurt anyone."

You simply nodded in response. "I just got home early and helped him a bit."

Toji then walked away from your mother's space. He went to your side and placed a hand on your shoulder. He pulled you close.

"She also has something to tell ya, babe." he turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

That was the queue for you to ask. "It's about family dinner. Can I leave around 9PM to go to a sleepover?"

Your mother wasn't really strict with sleepovers. You didn't even need to ask permissions when going out, but she did have one rule. Friday nights are supposed to be spent together. No exemptions.

Except for this one. You hoped.

Your mother was silent for a few moments. She looked at you with a doubtful look.

"That's fine. Just don't go to clubs or bars, okay? Stay at home. You know I don't like it when you go to such places."

Your heart could leap in happiness. You looked at Toji and smiled, uttering a silent thank you.

"I won't! We'll just stay at her house."

This was going perfectly. All you had to do was wear your bedwear underneath your clubbing outfit while you sneak out the house. No one would even know that you were away at Xylo.

"Toji will drive you to your friend's house. He'll make sure that you arrive there safe, okay?"

You hid your disappointed look and smiled instead. Toji shrugged and glanced at your side. "I can do that. Just text me the address and let me know if you're ready to go."

Well, shit.

You simply hoped that everything would still go to plan, even if there was a bit of an obstacle. (It was Toji, he was the obstacle) Still, no one would stop you from spending this Friday night to the fullest.

/////

You were now in your room, packing a few clothes for your so-called sleepover. You were currently wearing a pair of blue satin bedwear and some comfortable slippers. As for your club outfit, you laid down a white hollow-out rhinestone ring halter crop top with a black skirt. You decided to throw in some comfortable silver heels and accessories for later. And of course, your makeup was already organized and put inside the bag.

You checked the clock--- 9PM. Perfect. You'd meet at Nobara's house in a few minutes, then you'd leave for the club around 10.

As you were organizing your bag, there came a knock on your door.

"Princess, are you ready to go?" Came Toji's voice from the other side of the room.

The nickname was something he always used to call you. Even when you first met him, he rarely called you by your real name. It either was princess, sweetheart, or literally anything else. It always made you blush, too.

You grabbed your duffel bag and opened the door. You were greeted by Toji wearing a white long sleeve button-down shirt with a few buttons open. He had some black pants and shoes to finish it off, too.

You couldn't help but wonder, where the hell was he going at this hour?

His eyes scanned your bedwear and he chuckled.

"You look cute." he complimented and took the duffel bag from your hand. "Is this all your stuff?"

"Yeah, but where are you going?"

"Just an emergency meeting with a new client," he explained and led you down the stairs. "he's an important asset, so I can't let him go."

Until now, you didn't know the nature of his business but you didn't dare question it.

As the both of you went downstairs, you were greeted by your mother. She was currently on the phone with someone, but she immediately ended the call once she saw you.

"The both of you are dressed so differently," she laughed, pointing to your pajamas. Toji, meanwhile, looked as if he was on the way to some meeting.

"Y/N, have you told Toji your friend's address?"

You gave her a thumbs up. "Her house is just a 10-minute drive."

Toji got his car keys and kissed your mother again. He hooked his arms around her waist. The sight made you jealous, but you didn't dare show it. You just looked away and pretended to be on your phone.

"I have a business meeting at the main branch," he informed her. "you know the rich heir of the Gojo family? Sounds like he's interested in expanding the place."

Your mother's face seems to brighten up. "That's great! Seal the deal, but no drinking."

Drinking? Huh? Why the hell would a formal business meeting end up with drinking? You weren't entirely even sure what your mom meant, but you just ignored it.

Toji nodded. "Of course, babe. I'll be back in a few hours or so."

You bid your goodbye and went to Toji's car. It was a classic red Ferrari 812 car that had Toji's scent all over it. He opened the door for you and helped you inside.

The ride to Nobara's house was silent. You'd occasionally just tell Toji the directions, but aside from that, the only sound came from the radio that played some soft rock music.

However, you decide to break the silence.

"How do you even have meetings at 9PM in the evening, Toji?"

He took a turn and placed his other hand on the gear lever.

"In my nature of business, meetings can come at any moment. Even in the middle of the night," he informed you. "You don't know what business I have, do you?"

You shook your head. "Not really. My mom avoids the topic when I try to ask her."

"She has her reasons. Besides, it's a complicated business. I bet you haven't even heard of it."

You decided not to push on the topic any further. Instead, you texted Nobara, saying that you were already near. A few moments after, Toji parked in front of Nobara's driveway. He pressed the button, which led to opening the door.

"This is the place, Toji." you grabbed the duffel bag. "Thanks for the ride."

Unexpectedly, Toji stepped outside the car and opened the door for you. He leaned back on his car and waited for you to come out.

"Can't leave you until you go inside the house, princess." he declared as he got a cigarette from his pocket. "It's your mother's orders, so I have to follow."

Crap, Nobara was probably ready to go and just waiting for her. But Toji...

"You might get late for your meeting if you still wait for me."

He looked at you with a smirk. His hands then lingered on your face and they brushed your cheeks. Unexpectedly, he tucked your hair behind your ears.

"I can't just drive away and leave my baby girl in the dark," he replied, his other hand still cupping your face. "so just go inside the house before I personally escort you there."

God, fuck him. Fuck your feelings. Fuck your stupid crush on Toji. Fuck everything.

You took a deep breath. "Okay, Toji. I'll message you if I need anything."

As you walked over to Nobara's house, you could feel a pair of eyes deeply staring at you. It was none other than Toji, of course. He was puffing out smoke from his cigarette.

You pressed the doorbell on Nobara's door. You were greeted by a pink-haired guy who was wearing an oversized white t-shirt and denim pants with some Nike shoes.

"Oh, you must be Y/N!" he greets you with a bright smile. "I'm Yuuji, nice to meet you. My brother's the one who got us a table reservation at Xylo, so I'll come with you."

"That's great, Uhm... wait a moment," you leaned to him and whispered. "It's just my stepdad. He's that one over there. I'll just bid him goodbye."

Yuuji's eyes widened. "Your dad?"

"No, no, he's my--"

Yuuji went outside and waved at Toji. "Hi, Y/N's dad! She's in good hand, sir! We'll take care of her."

Toji stood still for a few seconds as he saw an unknown man with you. You only asked permission for an all-girls sleepover, but it seems that wasn't the case.

He'd be lying if he wasn't getting jealous or a bit overprotective. But his business meeting was urgent enough as it already is. He figured that he'd just check up on you later.

"Don't lay a head on her, you got me?" he glared at Yuuji. "I'll leave now. Take care, princess."

That's all he said and drove off.

////

"You didn't tell me that your stepdad was a total DILF!" Nobara exclaimed. She handed you a make-up brush and swooned. "I haven't met him except now. I wish I went outside and said goodbye too!"

You were now already dressed in your white hollow-out rhinestone ring halter crop top with some black skirt. Your hair was just the way it is, but you threw in a couple of accessories like earrings and bracelets. You wore some light makeup and applied for eyelash extensions on your eyes.

"He really is a DILF, or whatever you call it. But god, he's married to my mother. My mother. And it's not helping with my little crush on him."

Nobara giggled. "It's just a crush and there are many options in Xylo, okay? You can get laid with anyone hotter than him if that's even possible."

You puckered your lips and placed the lipstick. "I really hope so. It isn't helping that he's sweet and caring with me."

"He is?" she questioned.

"He isn't home much, but when he is, he cooks for my mom and me. He even buys me a few stuff every now and then."

"Do you call him daddy, then?"

Your cheeks instantly reddened. "What? No! I only call him Toji. It's weird to call him that."

"It's weird if you make it weird. Besides, he's hot and qualifies for the title."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever. I'll find someone that looks like him in Xylo."

Nobara clapped her hands. "That's the spirit! Now, put on your heels. Yuuji's waiting for us in the car. His twin, Sukuna, is already in Xylo too."

You looked at yourself in the mirror with Nobara. Your crop top was already backless as it is, and your skirt were tightly wrapped around your thighs, giving your curvy figure a sexy look. Nobara was the same, too. She wore a pair of boots and a white short skirt. To top it all off, she had the exact same crop top as yours except it was color black.

The two of you already looked hot.

She hooked her arm with yours.

"Let's go, then."

////

Xylo was in the main heart of the urban side of the city. The people there were filthy rich, too. You could recognize a few influencers, actors, and even models as they waited in line for their turn to enter. The place itself was huge-- it looked like a party palace with the architecture it had. Even at 11PM, the place was crowded as ever. It even felt as if the party hasn't even started yet.

Friday nights were really wild ones, huh?

Yuuji was on his phone, talking to Sukuna. "Hey, bro? We're already in front of Xylo. There's plenty of people here, could you pick us up?"

He put the phone on speaker.

"Just a moment, man. People are losing their shit inside-- there's even a red carpet and everything." Sukuna answered back, the loud music was overlapping with his voice. "Sounds like a VIP is coming. I'll text ya later."

Nobara crossed her arms. "VIP? Ugh, I just want to go inside! Whoever this VIP is should just go away."

You nodded softly, a bit nervous because you could feel a few stares from people. Your trio seems to stand out a lot-- with Yuuji, being the exact copy of Sukuna. According to him, his twin had a reputation in Xylo, so he was already considered a sponsor of some sort. Meanwhile, the two of you and Nobara were dressed beautifully. With both of your high heels, your heights already stood out from the rest.

Yuuji placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Sorry, but I swear it'll be quick. I also know the DJ, so maybe we can sneak in at the back?"

Nobara shook her head. "You mean Toge? That man is always late! Let's just wait for your brother."

Within a few minutes, Yuuji received a call. He gestured for the both of you to follow him towards the very front of the line. The bouncer stopped the three of you, though.

"Who are you with?" he asked Yuuji.

"We're with Sukuna, sir. He already reserved a table for us and-- Hey Sukuna!" Yuuji called out to his brother, who just exited the club. The man looked at them.

Sukuna approached your group; the man stood 6'3 tall, like Yuuji. He wore a red short sleeve button-up shirt and pants. Both his face and arms were filled with the same tattoo lines. In comparison to Yuuji, Sukuna had more muscle and build. Maybe it was just their shirt comparison? Since Yuuji was wearing an oversized t-shirt, so you couldn't see his muscles.

Regardless, Sukuna was hot. Really hot. He had this strong and attractive aura that attracted people to him.

"They're with me," he said to the bouncer and pointed to your direction. "the sweetheart over there is celebrating her birthday, too. I gotta make some exceptions for them, right?"

Nobara nudged you. "Just nod and smile."

The bouncer scanned both of you. He took one last long look and nodded. "No need for the entrance fee, just get in before more people show up."

Yuuji then raised a question. "Sir, why are there so many people anyway?"

"The big boss is on his way, so the club's gotta look extra fine tonight. Even got the best DJs to headline."

Yuuji nodded and thanked the bouncer. Sukuna then led the three of you inside. Meanwhile, Nobara smirked and tugged your arm.

"Aren't you excited? This is your first time in the club and you've got the best DJs to perform!"

Sukuna turned around, vaguely surprised at Nobara's statement.

"It's your first time?" he asked you.

You nodded shyly. "It is, actually. I really don't know what to expect."

There was a tunnel that was filled with LED lights, and on the other side you could hear the loud music beating. Before entering the doors, Sukuna held your hand and looked at you seriously.

"Don't ever, ever leave our side. If anyone forces themselves on you, kick them in the ass or call us. Always stay alert and remember: drink in moderation."

You nodded. Yuuji smiled at you. "When it was Nobara's first time, she ended up blacking out. I had to carry her to my car, then she had a shitty hangover."

"Hey! It was one time." Nobara defended. "I drank too much, partied too hard and I passed out."

Sukuna sighed and pulled you close to him. "And I wouldn't want that happening to our Guest of Honor here. So Yuuji, don't leave her side, alright?"

"Yes, sir." Yuuji saluted. His hands then grabbed the handles of the two door entrance right in front of your group. "You guys ready?"

Nobara pulled you away from Sukuna's grip. "Just open the door!" she said with an excited tone.

You could feel your heart beating faster for some reason. Quickly enough, Yuuji opened the doors and there it was. Xylo in all its glory. The place had a total of two floors, and it was huge. It could easily fit 500 people inside. The DJ was in the verh middle of it all with a huge screen in the middle. Everyone was in the dance floor, raving and dancing the night away. There were plenty of people chugging down on alcohol, too. There were circular tables on the side, and a few small tables on the middle. There was a side bar on the side with a few waiters and drinks lined up on tbe cabinets.

Meanwhile, the second floor was reserved for something else. They had more luxurious tables with their own set of waiters and a mini bar to serve the small portion of people. As you noticed, the crowd upstairs seem to be a bunch of older adults with few people. There was another bouncer at the stairs just to check if you had the VIP pass wristband.

Sukuna led you to their table at the first floor. It was one of the circular tables with a couch surrounding it. There were already a few drinks placed on the table, mainly Jaeger, Cuervo, and Patron. As far as you knew, all these had high alcohol content. The shot glasses were already lined up, and Yuuji started to pour the drinks.

"Have you guys warmed up at Nobara's house?" Sukuna asked loudly beneath the music.

Nobara nodded her head. "Just a few shots of liquor, so I'm a bit tipsy now. What about you, Y/N?"

"I haven't had a shot at home."

Nobara lifted a hand to her head. "What? I can't hear you!"

It was true. The loud music blaring from the speakers and the people just dancing made everything feel a bit dizzy and chaotic.

You repeated your answer, but she still couldn't hear it. She just took two shot glasses from Yuuji's hands and gave it to you.

"Drink up, sister." she offered you the drinks.

Sukuna glared at Nobara. "Hey, settle down for a moment. Does she even drink hard liquor?"

"I-it's fine, Sukuna," you reassured and took the shot glasses from Nobara. "do you have any salt or lemon?"

Yuuji had a plate of lemons and offered it to you and Nobara. Sukuna brought a hand to your shoulder and leaned to your ear to whisper.

"You can always decline the shot if it feels too much," he reminded you softly. His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You blushed, but reassured him that it was fine.

He pulled away from you and took a long look at Yuuji, signifying his twin to take care of you and Nobara while he was gone.

"I'll invite a few of my friends to our table and introduce 'em to you." Sukuna waved his hand and left the group.

Truth be told, Yuuji was a hard drinker. He'd probably drown himself in shots before the night ended. So, Yuuji initiated the drinks and poured everyone a shot. He was already dancing to the music and excited to go to the dance floor.

Nobara and Yuuji took their respective shot glasses and raised it up.

"Raise a glass to Y/N!"

"Party hard, but drink harder, Y/N!" Yuuji declared.

You raised the shot glass and smiled. "Here's to more Friday nights with the both of you."

The three of you clinked your glasses together and drank the shot. The alcohol burned your throat, so you immediately took a sip of the lemon. Nobara did the same, but Yuuji just took another shot without hesitation.

Nobara cringed at the taste, but she loved it either way. She shook your shoulders and laughed. Seems like the alcohol was already kicking in to her body.

"Another shot, Y/N! This is your warm-up, yeah?!"

Yuuji placed another shot of Cuervo on your glass. He gave you another slice of lemon. "You still up for another shot?"

The alcohol still wasn't sinking in to your nerves. But you loved the adrenaline that it brought you. So, you nodded your head and accepted the shot.

"The night is still young, Yuuji! Give me the shot."

You took the shot glass from Yuuji's hand. You didn't even bother taking the slice of lemon because you literally chugged the shot within a second. You couldn't care less if the alcohol burned your throat.

Nobara cheered. "That's my girl! By the end of the night, you'll be a hot fuckin' mess!"

Just as you were about to invite Nobara to the dance floor, Sukuna approached your table again. He brought a few of his friends, and they greeted you wirh a smile. They all looked kind, and they seem to have the same vibe with Sukuna— a warm and welcoming personality.

"These are my friends from Uni," Sukuna introduced them. There were four of them, actually. Three boys and one girl.

The first one was a young man named Yuta. He had a soft look on his face and his handsome features made him look sweet. He wore a black oversized Metallica shirt and there were a few piercings on his ears. He shook your hand.

"I'm Yuta, by the way," he greeted with a smile. "You look gorgeous, Y/N. Sukuna told me that it was your first time in Xylo. Is that right?"

"It's my first time in any club, actually." you answered him with a giggle. You could feel the heat in your cheeks burning up. Maybe the alcohol was kicking in?

"Wow, you're lucky!" Miwa, a young lady with blue hair exclaimed. She wore a black cocktail dress. "Xylo is like, the high end club of the city. Most celebrities even have to pay for an entrance."

"My celebrity crush always hangs out in here in Xylo," Todo, a tall man that stood 6'6 said. "Her meet and greets are pretty expensive, but in the club? You can just drink with her and chill."

"You can't even approach her 'cause she's in the VIP area! Don't spread fake news, Todo." Miwa replied.

Todo ignored Miwa's statement and patted Yuuji's shoulders. "Now is the night that my pal and I make a move on her. We'll find a way to get inside that damn VIP area."

He pointed to the second floor, which was filled with a bunch of rich people partying in a spacious area. Seems like only 50 people were designated in that area.

"We'll have a picture with her by the night's end, I bet," Yuuji reassured his friend. "Toge can give us a VIP pass since he's the DJ for later."

Yuuji and Todo then said their goodbyes and went to the dance floor. They also approached a waiter to order a few more bottles of alcohol. As for Nobara, she and Miwa were already planning how to spend the night, mainly making new friends with some hot models.

"Don't mind them, Y/N. Todo's just a huge fan of a female superstar who frequents here," Yuta said.

Sukuna intervened with your conversation. He already had another bottle of Jose Cuervo at hand.

"Bold of them to assume they even have a chance to meet her," he replied. "but with Toge's VIP privileges, then they might have a shot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Who's Toge anyway?"

Sukuna pointed to the huge screen in the middle of the dance floor. There hung a huge vintage chandelier and a shit ton of party lights. The DJ was in the middle of it all, and there were a few alcohol bottles with sparked candles attached to them. A few strippers were dancing beside the DJ and hyping him up.

"Toge is our friend. He doesn't talk much, but he's a new and upcoming DJ in town. He DJs in Xylo every other Friday, so we have a few tables for free," Yuta explains. "in a few minutes, he'll have his setlist. The crowd will go wild."

"He can also do shoutouts before a song plays. And we can order a few bottles of liquor and let the waiters serve them with those spark candles there," Sukuna points to the other tables that have waiters with the liquor bottles. They also had a signboard that said Happy Birthday.

As he explained, an idea popped into his mind. Sukuna smirked. He looked at you and held your wrist softly. "Follow my lead, Y/N."

"Where are we going?" you asked as you followed him to the dance floor.

"Let's pretend it's your birthday, yeah? We can get free bottles of liquor for that. Yuta can request for a birthday shoutout, and your name will pop up on the huge screen there," he gestured to the DJ.

You smiled, but your mind started to get a bit hazy. Drinking two shots of alcohol on an empty stomach wasn't a really good idea, but you can't back out now. The dance floor was also filled with people, so you couldn't really focus on your actions. You could only focus on Sukuna, who was holding your wrist to make sure you won't get lost.

"That's sweet of you Sukuna!" your arms found their way to his neck. You looked up at him and started swaying your hips. "Dance with me first."

Slowly enough, his hands hovered over your waist. "Gotta make your first night out unforgettable, babe."

As you danced with Sukuna, you noticed that there were a few people attempting to approach you. But Sukuna prevented them from doing so; he made sure that no one would touch you without consent. He could notice that the alcohol was already kicking into your veins, so he had to keep an extra eye out for you.

The music was already decreasing, but the people were still dancing their asses out. However, the DJ held a microphone and announced something.

"That's it for tonight's setlist, folks! Before the clock strikes 12, I'll be handing over the music to the freshest DJ in town--- DJ Onigiri and Panda!"

A few seconds after, a short man with white hair entered the stage. Beside him was a man wearing a full-out panda costume. The crowd cheered as they saw the duo. The lights brightened and the spotlight was completely on them.

"Hello, Xylo! It's Panda with DJ Onigiri. First of all, we'd like to say thank you to the Big Boss for invitin' us here," Panda gestured to the VIP area on the second floor. You couldn't really see who they were referring to because it was so dark. Nonetheless, the people still cheered and hyped up the duo. "We'll be playin' the sickest setlist you've ever heard, so get your asses ready."

Panda then handed the microphone to Toge. The young man took off his mask and smiled. Everyone was silent as they waited for his voice.

He cleared his throat and said, "Party hard, but drink harder."

That was when Toge started playing his music and the crowd went wild. He played a sick remix of Tokyo Drift and mash-up. You could feel yourself smiling as the beat perfectly matched the whole vibe of the place. Sukuna still had his eyes on you, just to make sure that no one touched you inappropriately. Next thing you knew, Nobara, Miwa, and Yuuji were already together with you, dancing your asses off. Nobara kept hyping you up and Miwa was already taking videos of your dancing ass. The twins were chugging down a bottle of Cuervo and they kept jumping around like a bunch of kids. Your group seem to be the center of the crowd, and everyone had their eyes on you.

Before the beat could drop, Panda held the microphone to his lips.

"Let's get with the shout outs tonight!" he hyped up the crowd, then a bunch of waiters entered the dance floor and they held a Happy Birthday Signage and a shit ton of liquor bottles with sparkling candles. Toge then changed the background of the huge screen placed at their backs and it said "Happy Birthday, Y/N! Party hard."

"First shout out of the night is the Princess of the Dance floor— Y/N!" Panda announced, which lead to your surprise. The spotlight was placed on you, and then you saw Todo and Yuta approaching your group's place with a few waiters. Both men had a bottle of Patron at hand, while the waiters held the Happy Birthday Signage.

"Party hard, Y/N! This song's for you!" Panda said, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you. Toge continued the song and the beat dropped.

Nobara and Miwa already had their phones out. Yuta approached you and placed a plastic tiara on your head. The waiters held the Birthday Signage up high, and the liquor bottles had sparkling candles. And unexpectedly, Todo effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on his shoulders. You could feel your face blush, because you were pretty much on top of the world now. Everyone was hyping you up, and you could swear that there was someone looking at you with such a piercing gaze. You just couldn't see who they are because there were a lot of people.

The twins danced around and opened the liquor bottle. Yuuji let Sukuna chug down the bottle. "You better drink this for 10 seconds, Sukuna!"

Yuuji was a bit tipsy now, so the drink was literally going all over Sukuna's face. Yuta, Nobara, and Miwa started counting down the time for Sukuna's drink.

"1....2....3...4....5—" They were cut off by hen Sukuna pulled away from the chug and coughed.

"Dammit, bro. You fuckin' sprayed the drink all over me." he laughed. He then wiped off the alcohol spilling down his face.

Sukuna then took another bottle and it was Yuuji's turn to chug the drink. Nobara then took a picture of you and Todo as you sat on his shoulder. You smiled as she used the flash camera.

"Let me post this on my Instagram Story, Y/N! I'll mention you and Todo," she declares with a smile.

You then tapped Todo, signaling him to put you down. He smiles at you and asks, "You having a good time, Y/N?"

You adjusted your tiara and nodded. "I am! I wasn't expecting Toge to place my shoutout first."

"He rarely does shoutouts for people, so yours might be the only one for tonight." Todo says loudly as the music plays.

Your eyes then landed on the Patron drink that Nobara was now chugging. You haven't tried chugging a drink yet, so you offered to do it.

"Can I try that, too?" You asked and pointed to the Patron drink being chugged down. Your voice a bit sluggish since you were now tipsy.

Yuuji nodded. "Fuck yeah! Open wide, Y/N!"

He was about to open another bottle until Sukuna stopped him. The older twin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"It seems like you're a lightdrinker, Y/N. Two shots in and you're drunk. Ya sure you want this?"

Lightdrinker? You? That was nonsense. Sukuna was clearly seeing something else.

"I'm not, Sukuna! I can take a 10-second chug 'cause it's my birthday."

You pulled away from Sukuna's grip and went to Yuuji's side. Yuta opened his flashlight to guide Yuuji's hand. Meanwhile, Nobara taught you how to chug properly.

"Just bend your back a bit and open your mouth wide. Drink a lot of it and let it burn your throat, babe!" she said and pushed you to the circle with Yuuji in the center of it. He then opened the bottle cap.

You gulped and positioned your head up to face the bottle. Slowly, you opened your mouth. Miwa was already starting to count and Yuta joined in, too. Yuuji then pointed the opening of the bottle to your lips. His other hand was placed on your chin to make sure your mouth was wide open. Yuuji then poured the Patron drink to your mouth and fuck. It tasted so damn different from Cuervo. This had more hotness and alcohol to it. You still chugged it down, though. You could hear your friends' countdown until 10.

"6....7...8...9..... and 10!" They cheered as you were able to finish off the whole 10 seconds.

You instantly closed your mouth, but Yuuji still poured the drink. This caused your crop top to become wet with alcohol. Sukuna immediately pulled you away from Yuuji and apologized. He then gave you his jacket so that you could cover your chest. Yuuji, meanwhile, offered Todo to also chug down the drink. It seems like the young man was already too deep in the alcohol. It was fine, though. You were fine. The alcohol didn't taste that bad, especially when it was just a quick chug. What was bothering you the most, though, is your alcohol-stained chest. You needed to change your whole top.

Lucky for you, Sukuna seem to read your mind. "Nobara, can you escort Y/N to the restroom?"

Nobara noticed that you already had Sukuna's jacket on. It meant that your top could be soaked with alcohol. She nodded and held you by your arm firmly. She temporarily said goodbye to your group and reassured them that both of you would be back in a couple of minutes. Nobara then brought a tissue to your mouth as she guided you to the restroom. You were quite a stumbling mess already, and your line of vision was starting to blur out. Your head was starting to get a bit fuzzy, too. Toge started to play his second song, so the music just got louder.

"Y/N, let's dry up your top. I'll join you inside the restroom, okay?" she asked you twice. Just to make sure that you were still conscious enough to respond.

It felt like you were having earthquakes on your head, but you nodded. You held onto Nobara's arm for dear life. The nobles way to the restroom was already dark as it it, so you needed some guidance.

"Of course. Thank you, Nobara."

That's the last thing you said and remembered before the alcohol took over your body.

////

Owning one of (if not) the highest paid clubs in the city capital wasn't an easy job. If anything, it was a draining profession because of the demand it had on the people. Xylo skyrocketed months after it first opened because of its owner, Toji Fushiguro, being able to invite the hottest and trendiest celebrities all over the world. The club then became known to have a reputation among the richest folks, which then led to the owner's success and ongoing business until now.

Still, owning a club had its perks. Toji loved the VIP treatment he received everytime he went there. It was just heaven. Celebrities and even models payed respect to him, some even begged to have a table reservation just for one night. If he knew any better, he'd be convinced that he was a celebrity himself.

"The young DJ and his hypeman are up next, Boss," one of his men reminded him. The man handed him a drink and left his side.

Toji sat at the very middle of the VIP area on his premium couch. It was located at the second floor, and from his view, you could see everything. The solid glass that separated him from the loud crowd from the first floor is what made the VIP exclusive. It had more access to drinks and exclusive amenities for a few people. There werr a few billiards, outdoor decks, and access to the rooftop.

"How was the meeting with the Gojo Heir?" a voice interrupted Toji's isolation.

He took a sip from his drink. He turned to face Shiu Kong, one of his business partners and the one who mainly helped him in establishing Xylo. They have been working together hand-in-hand for awhile now.

"It went well. He agreed to our terms, and I agreed to his. Contract says that he'll invest in one of our other starting clubs," Toji explains truthfully. "HQ is the one he has in mind, but Xylo's his main priority."

Kong took a seat across Toji. He glanced at him with a concerned look. "Where is he now?"

Toji pointed to the white-haired male that stood out from the crowd. He was in the first floor, mixing it up with the locals and drinking his life away. He was with a few of his friends, mainly some business associates too. They were probably checking out the place and making their final verdict.

"The young man's promising, but his personality's a bit shitty."

"Sounds like you're reminded of yourself when you see the Gojo brat."

Toji sighed. "Pretty much. Except that fucker has his family's name written all over him, whereas I started from scratch."

Kong noticed Toji's mood today. It was... off. After business meetings, the man would be celebrating his success and partying away. But tonight was different.

"Something's on your mind, Fushiguro. Did the meeting go unexpected to our plans?" he asked out of concern.

Toji massaged the temple on his forehead. He tried to drain out the music from his system, but he couldn't. There was just a lot going on his mind.

"It's just a family issue, Kong. Don't get yourself worked up."

"Oh?" Kong leaned forward and whispered, "Is this about your cheating wife?"

Kong already knew well enough that Toji's wife was unloyal. She's been seeing another man for awhile. Toji noticed (obviously) She confronted him about it, apologized, then cheated again. It wasn't a new topic. Hell, it even led to their relationship to becoming an open one.

Which meant that Toji was free to see someone else.

They could get a divorce, yes, but the money they had combined was unstoppable. It kept on flowing like a waterfall, and Toji wasn't willing to let that go. That's why they kept up the "head over heels in love" act everytime they had the chance.

"Y'know, that woman is brilliant. Married you for the money, used the said money to start her own business and then funds it for her daughter's education. Isn't that smart?" Kong added, noticing that Toji was out of his zone.

"This isn't about her. It's about her daughter."

By now, Kong was intrigued. "You mean your daughter?"

Toji cringed at the word. "She's not.... she's not my daughter, Kong. I'm not sure if I even consider her as one. But I can't help but think about her."

Kong knew this well enough. He poured another shot on Toji's glass.

"This is about a boy, isn't it?"

Toji was silent. Which meant that Kong was probably right.

Kong chuckled at Toji's actions. "It's called fatherly instincts, dumbass."

Toji shook his head. "It isn't like that."

"What is it, then? You're worried about your wife's kid who's probably seeing a boy her age."

"She's a fuckin' adult, Kong. And I'm not worried, I'm just concerned for her safety."

"You haven't even introduced me to her yet. Who is she anyway?"

Toji sighed. He opened his phone and gave it to Kong. It showed a picture of you and your mother, smiling side by side. You were in front of your new house that Toji bought. You had a handful of boxes at hand, but it didn't really cover your entire face. Kong could clearly see your appearance, which made him quite amused.

"She looks a lot like her mother, Fushiguro. I see why you're worried," he confessed and brought the phone back to Toji. "but she's fine, isn't she? She's safe and sound at home."

Toji groaned and his head brought flashbacks of you in the porch of your friend's house with some guy. He was a fairly tall male around your age, and he had an annoying smile on his face. It irritated Toji just thinking about it.

"She isn't home. She slept at her friend's house, but—"

"But she might've snuck out and went on a date with her boyfriend." Kong finished his statement. "A classic move, might I add."

Toji then took one last look at the first floor. There were more people now since it was almost midnight. The new DJ would probably hype up the crowd and increase the number of customers by double. Nonetheless, Toji's mind was still stuck on you.

"I fuckin' regret leaving her. I should've picked her up after the meeting."

The man adjusted his white long sleeves and pulled them up to his elbows. He undid a few buttons of his shirt so that he could breathe. The alcohol didn't do much in relieving his overthinking, so he might as well just act on it. He took one long sip of his drink and stood up from his seat. He grabbed his car keys from his pockets and readied himself to exit the club.

Kong, however, stopped him from doing so.

"And what? You're leaving on a hot Friday night?" he questioned in disbelief. "We paid a shit ton of money to hire the best DJs in town to keep this night unforgettable. Don't fuck this up and bail on me."

Toji glared at Kong as the loud sounds blared throughout the whole building. The VIP area was starting to get filled with more and more people. Most of them were major stockholders of the club.

"Hello, Xylo! It's Panda with DJ Onigiri. First of all, we'd like to say thank you to the Big Boss for invitin' us here,"

The spotlight instantly went on Toji and Kong's floor. People cheered as they saw who Panda referred to as Big Boss. After that, the DJ said something and played some music. The crowd seemed livelier than ever the second they entered the stage.

Kong then took another intimidating glare at him again.

"Just finish a couple of their songs, Fushiguro."

Toji knew that he couldn't deny Kong's request. So he sat back down and offered himself another shot. He leaned back on his reclining chair and took a deep breath. He might as well enjoy the newest DJs in Xylo. Kong entertained him with a bit of business talk. He offered Toji some new suggestions about expanding their network, specifically in other aspects. Xylo already had its own name, but Toji needed to do more. He needed to establish a few more clubs to ensure the flow of money kept on going.

"Xylo's already the shit in everyone's minds. We were the pioneers of the city's nightlife, too. But we gotta expand more, yeah? Let's search for more areas that can thrive in the night. Then, we can build a new nightclub there before anyone else can."

"HQ's already on that list. We've got celebrities going there to host parties," Toji explained to Kong.

"Yeah, but the Northside can be another possible area that we can use because it's filled with University students. That's where I got those new DJs."

Kong pointed to the DJ playing his setlist on the first floor. Toji couldn't believe it. "That guy's a University Student?"

"Hard to believe. But the kid's got talent. He doesn't talk much but his music is heavenly."

As if on queue, the music lowered down. Panda then again tapped the microphone and announced something. It made Toji and Kong look over to their direction.

"Let's get with the shout outs tonight!" Panda hyped up the crowd, then a bunch of waiters entered the dance floor. After that, Toji's night took an unexpected turn.

At the huge screen placed on the DJs back, there was a huge text written with "Happy Birthday, Y/N! Party Hard" At the text alone, Toji forced himself to stand up and go to the viewing deck of the VIP area. Was it possible? Was it possible that you were here, in Xylo? God, Toji didn't know how to act. So, Kong followed him, which led them to the other side of the stage, where they could clearly see everyone and hear the loud music.

Toji then scanned the crowd, trying to look for the person that Panda was referring to.

Meanwhile, Kong sighed. "It's probably a coincidence that the stranger has the same name as her."

Toji ignored him. He then observed the spotlight that would pinpoint the one Panda was greeting.

"Party hard, Y/N! This song's for you!" Panda said and then the beat dropped.

The spotlight then scanned the crowd, and it eventually landed on a group of friends. Toji carefully eyed each one. There were two girls, one had blue hair and the other had orange. There was a young man with black hair and a set of identical twins with the same exact hair that Toji saw from earlier. The pink hair that he saw in your friend's house.

"Oh shit," Kong stated with a sigh.

He probably saw something else Toji didn't notice.

But Toji was quick to glance. There, he saw a group of waiters carrying Happy Birthday signage with a couple of drinks, and in the middle of it, was a huge muscular man. He had his hair tied up in a bun, and he looked pretty intimidating. However, the thing that caught Toji's eyes was the pretty little girl seated on the man's shoulder. She wore a white backless crop top and a short skirt. She was smiling and cheering as everyone had their eyes on her and her alone. The girl was dancing along to the song that was playing

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Toji asked in a disappointed tone. His fingers curled into a fist as he stared at you from afar.

You were smiling as everyone cheered for your so-called birthday, even if Toji knew that it wasn't. A few minutes after, you got down from the unknown man's shoulder and went to your group's circle. You opened your mouth wide and chugged practically half of the bottle.

The scene alone made Toji pissed. There were a lot of people staring at you with greedy eyes, and as each second passed, he regrets leaving you alone. He should've just followed his gut and let you stay with him.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Fushiguro." Kong reminded him out of a sudden.

Toji ignored him. He exited the VIP area and went down to the first floor to find you.

///

Part 2 and 3 soon. Lmk if u like the story!

---

I love all things Feitan and though Phinks isn’t my favorite I do love the dynamic. You say ur not confident in it but I like it a lot regardless lol, if you made this a story I’d read tf outta it.

Common Interest

Yandere Feitan x Reader x Yandere Phinks

Synopsis: Feitan and Phinks talk about one of their common interests, you.

Warnings: Murder mentions, yandere content, reader is a troupe member, fem reader

idk how many words this is its 12 am and I’m just trying to get this blurb out of my drafts… not very confident in this but I just wanted to post something while I work on other stuff 🥲

Feitan isn't sure what to do with you.

People have piqued his interest before, for any number of reasons. If they were lucky, he got bored after a day or two. If he decided to see what the fuss was about, it usually sealed that person's fate. They'd be dead in a matter of days to weeks and tossed to the woods behind his house for the wolves to feed on. Feitan can't do that with you, he isn't ready to drag you by your ankles to his home and kill you with an assortment of torture techniques, nor does he want to.

After all, the other Spiders probably wouldn't take it too well if Feitan caused one of their members to disappear.

For once, everyone was all together at the base to celebrate a mission well done.

Feitan eyed you, only half pretending to read his book. He wasn't big on reading, but a book on medieval torture practices was sure to have some fun information. You were talking with Shizuku about something, sitting next to her in the hideout sharing a takeout box of food. The moonlight shined through the windows, illuminating you against the others. He sits further away, preferring to be at a distance while he ruminates on his feelings. Feitan's ears strain to pick up on what you two discuss, trying to ignore everyone else.

"Okay, you first, what does yours say?" You ask, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork and eating it. Shizuku eyed the strip of paper, chewing on the fortune cookie as she did. Once she finished, she read out what was written. "Want to learn Mandarin? Leave us a review? Visit ou-" "Wrong side, Shizuku." She lets out an "oh" before turning the paper over to see what her fortune was. "A light heart carries you through tough times." She recites, blinking a few times. "What about you, what does yours say?"

You look at the rectangle of paper, having only skimmed it briefly before. You hold it up, reading it out loud to her. "Good business opportunities will come to you." You stab another piece of chicken with your fork. The conversation soon shifts focus as the two of you share your meal.

Why were you talking to her? She was going to forget whatever you said as soon as you left. It's one ear and out the other with Shizuku. Feitan wouldn't forget, he never has. Everything you've told to him he's remembered, anytime you addressed him directly or called him by his name. He's kept all of your mementos too: your hair ties, the old press-on nails Pakunoda encouraged you to get, and the cards you hid in your bra during a game of Uno (those were his favorite).

Feitan's fixation for you has gone on for so long he isn't sure how or when it started. Perhaps it was always there, and only now was rising to the surface. He wasn't sure of the reason for it, not that he needed one. Feitan didn't need to justify his attachment to you, especially not since you and him are one in the same; thieves. Oh, but he is hyper-aware of his own growing animosity toward the other Spiders. He's been meaning to put a stop to it, realizing how out of hand it had been getting when he grew resentful towards Kortopi for taking your attention when you should have been focused on him.

The common denominator had been you; so it was only right that Feitan deals with you. The others can't bother him if they can't interact with you, and if they can't interact with you then Feitan could have you all to himself. His thoughts drift to how he would even pull something like that off; if he should even try it.

Just as he was trying to tune back into you and Shizuku’s conversation, Phinks came to sit with him on the concrete he was using as a resting place. Feitan smelled him before he saw him, the distinct scent of his cologne was unmistakable. A warm musky fragrance, and if you really focused on it, it was almost floral.

"What you want?" It came out as an almost hiss, but that was just Feitan's normal tone of voice these days. "You're staring again." He points out. Again. Again? Feitan stares at Phinks, closer to eye level now that he's sitting down on the concrete. Behind the cowl, Feitan's mouth tightens to a thin line, and his gaze returns to you.

Well, if Phinks' picked up on Feitan's proclivity to admire you from afar, surely Chrollo has as well. The idea of that is enough to send an unpleasant shiver through him. Feitan is surprised Phinks would have picked onto something like this, he wonders if his interest in you wasn’t more obvious than he initially thought.

(Honestly, between the two of them- Phinks wasn’t exactly the perceptive one).

"You stare too." Feitan says, in an almost challenging tone. It isn't any of Phinks' business what Feitan does, really. "Could be doing a lot more than just staring." Phinks' says it like he's offering something, and Feitan peels his eyes away once more to look at Phinks. There’s that look on his face, one Feitan is familiar with. The cogs running through his head, deciding to do it, to take what’s right in front of you and to make it yours.

Feitan has noticed it; the fleeting glances and constant need to hear your opinion on things Phinks had. Sometimes, Feitan worries Phinks has become incapable to form his own thoughts on a matter without your input. Phinks was the only person (other than Chrollo, of course), that Feitan could tolerate you speaking to for more than a few minutes.

“She leaving after tonight, gone till next mission.” Feitan says, having picked it up from your earlier conversation with Shizuku. He wonders if she’s even remembered you told her that. “We could just keep her,” Phinks starts, leaning in so nobody else could hear. “My place is nice enough, yeah?” Feitan nods slightly, giving Phinks his approval for the idea. Hardly any words past that have to be said, evidently, they're on the same page.

If it had been anyone else, any other troupe member, to say Feitan would be irritated is an understatement. He'd make quick of killing them for even daring to breach the topic, but Phinks is an exception; he might as well be his brother.

He and Phinks killed people together, robbed the innocent and took joy rides in stolen cars, even shared a bed when they had to. Surely they can split you between themselves. It wouldn’t be hard, even if the two men could get insanely jealous and possessive. They’d be working together, not against each other. Two heads are always better than one; especially when Feitan knows you'd put up a serious fight should they go through with this.

The thought of it amuses him, Feitan, at your imagined struggle, begins to feel some pity for you. As valuable of a member to the Troupe you were, he doubts you’d do well against two spiders. Maybe you won’t even get the chance to get some good hits in, depending on whatever Phinks’ has in mind.

“So? What do you say?” Phinks asks, turning to face Feitan with crossed arms. There's a long pause, Feitan thinking the offer over and all of the ways it could go wrong. All of the ways it could go right.

"Let's do it."

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I liked this it was a pretty dark and the inclusion of y/n being from Kurta clan was interesting. It be more interesting to see it expanded upon with her life with the spiders and interactions with Kurapika. But as is I enjoy this one

ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬, ℌ𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔰

𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱: chrollo x pregnant!kurta reader + prompts 12. “haven’t you realized your situation? your life is completely in my hands now.” and 16. "i'll destroy anyone that gets in my way, anyone that tries to get in between us."

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰:  a one-night stand between you and chrollo ends up becoming much more, something that you never would have thought could cost you the cozy life you had made in your village alongside your clan.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: yandere chrollo x reader, manipulation/deception, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of nsfw, kidnapping, blood/murder (aka the kurta massacre). this story is a little more morbid than my other work, you have been warned. i will add a cut for when things become more intense :)

You didn't even know it yourself. It was another clan member’s nen ability that informed you of the life growing inside of you–just as theirs ended. The feeling of their bruising grip on your hand letting up ever so slowly as their soul faded away, their last words being something so heavy and bearing so much that you had no choice but to believe them. You knew that you had made a mistake. 

Hiding your face in an attempt to cover up your ever-deepening blush, you turned away from the dark-haired man on his back beside you and sat up, reaching down to pull your cloak off of the floor and begin dressing back up. You felt so embarrassed even after the act was done, this having been your first time–not to mention doing it with a man so charming and seemingly infatuated with you, it was something that you didn’t think you could ever get over. Perhaps you were in a state of shock, did this really just happen? Based on the pleasant but sore sensation between your legs, you didn’t have to pretend. 

It happened on a whim, you had been sent into town by the Clan Elder to buy some extra food from the markets, as this gardening season was off to a slow start and there weren’t enough vegetables to sustain everyone. While at the market you were scanning over various fruits, trying to gauge which ones were new and which were beginning to rot so you could pick the right ones to last you all longer. 

He approached quietly, sneaking up from behind and asking for your opinion on the produce he had selected since you looked like you knew what you were doing. With a smile and an apology (since his sudden voice by your ear had caught you off guard, making you physically jump which then startled him), you were more than happy to help. Somehow, in a whirlwind, one thing led to another and you were following him back to his apartment rather quickly after your meeting, groceries long forgotten. 

“When will I be seeing you again?” he asked, voice husky as he sat up behind you and reached for your hand. He peppered soft kisses along your knuckles, raising chills upon your skin when his lips worked all the way up your arm and to your bare shoulder. You shivered, leaning into him as he pressed against your neck. 

“I don’t know…” your sentence tapered off, a bit too overwhelmed by his warm affections and the clarity of your actions now that they were finished and you had time to reminisce with a clearer mind.

You had somewhat of a lover back in the village, someone you would exchange coy glances with and speak a handful of sweet conversations when the timing was appropriate, away from peeking eyes that would immediately declare your marriage if they caught a glimpse of anything. You knew that you wanted to save yourself for him, but there was just something so irresistible about this stranger, it almost felt like you didn’t have any control of your body when you consented to his advances. You couldn’t even give a definite yes or no to coming back and seeing him again, you were just so confused. Had you just committed adultery? And enjoyed it? Were you going to come back?!

The idea of that put a bitter taste in your mouth. How sickening, how morally unacceptable. With a wince you stood up from beneath the sheets and pulled your clothes back on quickly, ignoring the sticky sensation starting to drip down your thighs even as you pulled your panties back on, moving the substance back up your leg once more. 

“What’s the rush?” he asked, leaning back on his hands and watching you casually, even though you were sure that your urgency was obvious, and there was clearly nothing to be so casual about. You turned to look at him and noticed that the sheet covering his lower half had lowered even further since you stood, making you whip your head right back around with a more crimson complexion than the one you had moments ago.

“I… have to go take care of something at home. They’ll be worried about me, I said I wouldn’t take long in the city” pushing the last button through your shirt and pulling your cloak on once and for all, you brushed yourself off and rushed to the door. 

“Just a minute,” he requested, sitting up a little taller and readjusting the sheet to cover a little more of himself. Thank god. You stopped and spun around with hesitance, waiting for whatever he was about to say with shaky hands that were just itching to pry the door open so you could run out of there. 

“If you’re willing to take a longer route, there’s a path that runs on the edge of the city right by the stall where we met. It’s likely to lead you back home, and there’s a beautiful view there that you cannot miss out on. It should be on the left, you’ll know it when you see it.” 

Your lips twitched upward and he mirrored it, the anticipation of seeing something peaceful in the near future relieved your nerves a little bit. You thanked him, and without another moment to spare you dashed away from that room and out of the apartment building as fast as your legs could carry you. 

What had you just done?! You and that boy from the village were not yet tied together by marriage, but you had a definite emotional connection that would have certainly made it feel like cheating if you were to flirt with another man, let alone sleep with one. Your skin felt itchy and dirty, and the way that your underwear was keeping physical evidence of your copulation filled you with pure guilt. You tried to calm yourself down, walking fast so you could get home as soon as possible and wash your body until your skin was rubbed raw. And how would you explain the lack of groceries you were bringing back?!

One thing after another, it continued to get worse. You were now an adulterer who couldn’t even do one thing right and actually bring home the food you were assigned to get. You couldn’t fulfill the only purpose of this trip because you had to act upon a selfish impulse that came over you out of nowhere. One that was sudden and out of your control, but felt that if you did not act upon it you would simply explode, and how perfect that such an attractive stranger was there to care for your needs.

You shook your head when that thought crept in, shaming yourself and looking up to the landscape before you for a distraction. Your eyes scanned around eagerly, and after a brief few seconds of strenuous searching, you noticed a small, rocky path near the fruit stall. The one that the man had mentioned to you.

The anticipation of seeing something peaceful in the near future relieved your nerves a little bit.

Ah, perfect. That would be sure to calm you down if he was being honest about the view, and wasn’t just saying that to mess with you in an attempt to delay your trip so you would spend more time with him. You knew your way back home very well since you travelled to the city a lot, you knew that even if this path did not lead back to the village you could easily find your way back so long as you continued walking north. Your mind was set.

Trekking down the road, you began to take deep breaths as all of the unease bubbling up inside of you was becoming unbearable, alongside another nervous feeling that you couldn’t place. You felt entirely unnerved, not quite like you were being watched, but like something very bad was about to happen and take the cake for being the worst part of this already awful day. Perhaps it was just caused by the unfamiliar route home. At the very least, this route may have been longer but was definitely more scenic and a lot quieter than your regular one. You had faith that it would pleasantly surprise you too if there was a hidden and scenic view as that man said. 

That man. You had to try harder to get him out of your head. You tried shaking it, rubbing your eyes and temples as if you could physically wash him away if not will him away. You didn’t know how much more anxiety you could take before your heart simply gave up.

You stopped walking, eyelids closing and hands balling into tight fists. Your heart was pattering harshly within your ribcage, pushing achingly against it, so fast. 

Calm down.

Allowing your eyes to open again, you inhaled deeply and observed the spot where you chose to halt. Blinking, you followed the back-and-forth blowing of elegant green leaves and swirly plants with their sturdy vines. You happened to look over your left shoulder, and to your surprise, a beautiful display of the sky was visible through a patch in the trees, as if its branches had been carved out for it to be seen. As ethereal as the twinkling stars looked against the deepening blue yonder, you had a hard time enjoying it because of that angsty feeling that was clawing at you.

If you wanted to feel better, you had to stop wasting time and get home. Perhaps finally being back to some familiarity would provide comfort, allow you to reset your mind, and pretend that nothing peculiar even happened today. Soaking in the view one final time, you committed it to memory to act as a soother while you continued on. You started to speedwalk, and the more you did continue on, the more the environment around you changed. 

The first thing you noticed was how it was oddly quiet. You knew that you were nearing home because the number of swirly plants had increased, and typically by this point you could hear the distant bustling and soft chatter of your elders. But there was no bustling. There was only pure and utter silence aside from the clop of your shoes against the stones under your feet, and the crunching of the fallen leaves trapped between them. 

Something wasn’t right, now you knew that for certain.

Your walk became a run, you didn’t stop and didn’t care about how many bushes or plants you ripped out of the way until you were back to your territory. 

You nearly tripped from how quickly you had to stop yourself from continuing on at lightning speed, lest you get too close to the scene before you.

It was all red. 

Your eyes started to turn the same colour once they took in and fully analyzed what exactly they were looking at, your limbs became numb, your breath hitched, and bile rose to your throat as you saw the multitude of corpses littered all over your village grounds. 

The deceased bodies of the villagers, of your clan members.

“I tried to delay your arrival…what a shame, I really didn’t want you to see this.” 

This voice was familiar. You had just heard it not long ago.

Having never moved this fast before, you nearly gave yourself whiplash spinning around to see who was behind you. Any uneducated onlooker would notice your scarlet eyes and assume that they must have been burning, or at the very least were starting to burn, considering just how intense your gaze was and how much that deep red glowed. You were expressionless but your teeth were grit and your jaw was tightly clenched. Who dared to speak to you this way after you had just been witness to such a lachrymose sight?!

“I–you…” you sputtered, eyes widening impossibly and muscles seizing in shock when you realized just who dared. 

“Me.” It was spoken softly and quietly, yet it was so loud to you even as the only sound in your ears was the intense thumping of your heart–which felt like it was in your throat.  

The man you had just met with. And a silhouette further behind him, a diversely sized clump that was certainly a hidden group of people. A short trail of blood followed their location, starting thick and narrowing off into smaller drips the closer it got to them.

Why was he here, and who were those people?! You had no doubt that they were the cause of this, what was his connection to them? What else did he know if he had “tried to delay your arrival?”

“Y/N…” a frail voice came from your side, far and low and your head lashed down immediately to see the Clan Elder reaching a trembling hand in your direction. 

He was still alive. 

You wasted no time in scurrying to his side, dropping to your knees, and holding his hand with both of yours. The bloodied, empty sockets where his eyes once were made your blood run cold, and the sight of him shaking his head from side to side as if trying to look for you despite being blinded made you want to cry. 

You couldn’t help but think if you had been home sooner… could you have stopped this from happening? Or would you have fallen victim to the massacre as well?

The Elder’s grip on your arm intensified suddenly, making you gasp and wince in pain as he must have been exerting every last bit of life he had into that grasp. A shimmering white aura surrounded his body, flowing through to his hands and lighting up your skin where he was touching. You began to shake from the strength of it all, watching how suddenly he leaned closer to place his mouth by your ear so he could whisper;

“You’re pregnant.” 

Then he was gone. You could feel and see it all; the way his nails lifted back out of your skin, fingers unravelling from around your wrist as his limbs slid back down to his sides, lifeless. That surrounding glow was gone too, dimming out slowly until there was nothing left.

It didn’t feel real. 

You found yourself leaping away from the sudden hand on your back, scowling at the man from a newly created distance, watching him stand up straight after kneeling down to be at your previous level. Seeing him in such close proximity to your deceased clan made your gut churn, you felt sick. He couldn’t just let you mourn, was he not planning to just rip the bandaid off and admit that he was planning this, that he did this?! 

“Haven’t you realized your situation?” He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze was trained intently on the Clan Elder as his hands reached for his pockets. You watched him sharply, none of his movements going unnoticed as you were overwhelmed with the urge to protect everyone around you despite being too late. 

“Watch what you say to me next,” you warned. You did not have any formal combat experience, and any threat of violence was empty, but you didn’t doubt what could be granted to you by adrenaline. Your words must have intrigued the man though, he looked over at you with a grin and rotated his body so he was facing you completely.

“Y/N…” he whispered, using your name for the first time since your meeting which made your skin crawl, and he lifted his hands with upward-facing palms as he began to approach.

Backing away from him was instinctive, but you weren’t careful about your steps and lost your footing, falling backward. Landing on your back, the instant cushioning of your fall made you choke because that fall should have hurt and been solid–you should have landed on a cement path, you knew where you had been standing despite the heavy carmine liquid that was soaking into and staining the rock. 

You were stuck in your landing place for a moment, the sound of your racing pulse booming through your ears once more as you swallowed dryly and looked to your side, head twitching at a turtle’s pace. You didn’t want to see more of it, you already knew what you landed on and what you would be met with if you looked, but it was too late.

The eyeless, deeply frowning face of your husband-to-be. Dead.

Releasing a shrill cry, you could now feel your entire world crashing down. Despair replaced what was once burning anger inside of you. You couldn’t even fight the man off as he walked over and crouched down, lifting you up to a seated position, embracing you, and twisting your head into his chest to shield your eyes. He shushed you, caressed your hair, and rubbed your back, telling you that it was okay, that you were okay. 

He was so, so wrong, he certainly knew it too. The sweetness in his voice sounded false, much too tender in such a horrible situation that it may as well have just been full-on laughter at you. 

You heaved and gasped for air, your entire body shaking as you felt so helpless, trapped in the arms of your clan’s definite killer and embracing him atop the mound of dead bodies, bodies that belonged to those who were like family to you. It was blasphemous, but nobody else was here to help you now.

Everyone was gone. 

But did you deserve help anyway? You allowed this man to seduce you, to have you in his bed, and take you away from that family for so much time; enough for him to plan a killing spree of them all. This was your fault.

You felt his mouth on your cheek, giving a slow and tender kiss, and his hand came up as he pulled away to drag his thumb along where his lips once were. His voice was by your ear shortly after, and he whispered his next words for only you to hear. 

“Your life is completely in my hands now. I’ll destroy anyone that gets in my way, anyone that tries to get in between us. What a powerful family we’ll make together, I’m absolutely thrilled to meet our child."

Another kiss. And another. And one more, on your jaw this time. He was showering you in affection, effectively distracting you as he continued on with kissing, caressing, and embracing you while he stood and held you firmly against him, turning you both back to the path you arrived here on. He was essentially dragging you along like a body bag, you had been paralyzed moments ago once the sight of your deceased lover engrained itself into your memory forever–staying there, looking right at you every time you dared to blink. Your feet picked up remnants of blood as he hauled you along, creating clean lines in the excessive puddles of it where your shoes once were. 

What more could you have done? If you had never obeyed your Elder’s wishes and gone to the market, you would not have met this man whose name you still did not know. Your meeting seemed fated; as if he spared you on purpose, and this slaughter was already planned with the intention of leaving you out of it. But why? Would you ever know? 

All you could do was accept your fate, any future with the clan was finished, because they were not with you anymore. Your life would have no path without them, so you didn’t mind allowing your clan’s killer to be the dictator of your new life. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, he was the father of your child after all, and you were a Kurta. Not all hope was lost.

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

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