Beach Episode~ Every Anime Even In Fanfic Form Needs A Beach Episode Or Chapter In This Case Hehe~

Beach episode~ Every anime even in fanfic form needs a beach episode or chapter in this case hehe~

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 3] Beach Day

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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The heat starts to cool down a couple of weeks later, which you’re thankful for. But now you have air conditioning that you could’ve used the hotter days, and it upsets you that slowly you have to start using long sleeve shirts because otherwise you’ll be too cold. Either way, you like the current weather. It slowly turns into the perfect weather. Not too hot, not too cold.

Slowly you also build up a relationship with Megumi. You’re spending some time together after all, and you hear that he’s making friends. Your relationship with your neighbor doesn’t change though. Whenever you talk it’s about his son and about daycare. He still attempts to drive you to daycare and pick you up, but sometimes he doesn’t get out of work till late so you walk back home with Megumi, and he stays at your place till Toji comes to pick him up.

You really don’t mind taking care of a child even when you’re not getting paid. Toji is extremely apologetic about it, but you know the man tries his best for his son, or at least that’s what you think. Either way, you don’t mind helping out with whatever it is since Megumi is extremely relaxed– Although the more he gets to know you, the more he wants to play with you and the less he wants to sit still, which you also don’t mind.

For the first time in weeks, you get to sleep in. Lately Toji knocks at your door first thing in the morning because he needs someone to look after Megumi since he has had something urgent come up. But not this time. 

Even though you get to sleep in, around eight in the morning your phone begins to ring. You groggily pick up the phone, only to find Toji’s name displayed on the screen. At that moment you begin to regret ever asking for Toji’s help when you met him. Ever since you’ve been repaying for his minor favor in a million other ways. But of course, that’s a thought that only crosses your mind because you were woken up. You still pick up the phone,

“Hi.” You respond, a yawn escaping your lips. You’re thinking about having a chat with Toji about some boundaries because while you do enjoy helping, you barely do anything for yourself in your free time.

“Hi!” You hear a voice that’s too babyish to belong to Toji, and immediately you regret the thoughts that you were having beforehand because Toji didn’t do anything. 

“Megumi… What are you doing with your daddy’s phone?” You ask, getting up from bed and opening the curtain to let the sunlight in. At least you can start your free day early, so you can appreciate the call more. “Did you steal it?”

“I need Mr. Carrot.” Megumi says, making you furrow your eyebrows. But you remember the bunny stuffed animal that Megumi carries with him when he spends some time with you. He doesn’t like to let go of it, and it seems like it’s one of his favorite toys.

“Where are you, Megumi? Can you put your dad on the phone?” You ask, and you hear Megumi’s little footsteps and how he yells, ‘daddy!’ to get his father’s attention. You wait for Toji’s hello before you say, “Megumi wants his bunny.”

“Did he call you for that?” Toji wants to chuckle, but he maintains a serious face so Megumi doesn’t think what he did is funny. When you hum in response it’s harder for him to suppress his laugh. Toji clicks his tongue and you hear him say, “bad Megumi” which makes you chuckle because he refers to his son as if he were a dog. “I’m sorry.”

“I would bring it to him but it’s not like I have access to your apartment.” You respond, and from his end, silence is the sound thing you hear. You immediately know, so you walk to your dresser to get some clothes.

“Actually… There’s a spare key under the welcome mat– But don’t use it. You’re spoiling the kid way too much.” Toji says, but you’ve decided that you’re giving him the toy.

“Are you at work?” You question, and you hear him sigh.

“I’ll send you the address.”

You walk into the car shop that Toji works at, and you look around the place. A man stops you, and he begins to walk over to you, until Toji shuts the hood of a car. He makes eye contact with the man that was walking over to you, and the man decides to focus on something else. That’s when you notice Toji. 

He’s wearing a white tank top with his blue coveralls, the top part off and tied around his hips, which nearly makes your eyes pop out of your head because he simply looks so… good. He looks at the plush that you hold, and calls out for his son, who takes a seat in the manager’s office.

“You really shouldn’t have. You’re spoiling that kid.” Toji shakes his head disapprovingly, as if he hadn’t helped you get the plush. You watch as Megumi approaches you, and you smile as you see him run to get his bunny. When he has the furry plush in his hand, his father says, “What do you say, Megumi?”

“Thank you!” Megumi responds, showing his tiny teeth when he smiles at you. The more time you spend together, the more he warms up and the sweeter he is. He begins to walk away, and Toji sighs.

“Thank you.” Toji says, and you smile at him. “Did you eat something for breakfast? I hope he didn’t wake you.”

“I haven’t.” You answer. “He woke me up and ever since I’ve been on the mission to get him Mr. Carrot.”

“I have no idea how the hell he managed to call you of all people. Kid can’t even read.” Toji shares, even though he knows there aren't that many contacts in his phone, so picking you out of all people was something fairly easy for Megumi. It wasn’t that Megumi chose you of all people because he knew who you were, but rather good luck on his part. “Anyway… Do you want something for breakfast? It’s about time for me and Megumi to eat something again.”

“Are you inviting me out to eat or are you talking about a convenience store breakfast?” You question and the man scratches the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, visibly embarrassed. Before he can answer, you tell him, “I’ll gladly accept a convenience store breakfast. I was just planning on skipping breakfast anyway.”

Megumi! Come here!” Toji yells, and while you wait, you decide to ask,

“When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow.” He answers. “Taking the kid to the beach before it gets too cold.”

You slowly nod and smile. “That’s nice.”

“Would you like to come along? Or will we be ruining your day off?” Toji invites you, and now you genuinely smile. It’s been so long since the last time you went to the beach, and it genuinely sounds nice.

“I would love to. You can text me the details.” You respond, and he nods. Neither of you notice Megumi until he tugs his father’s pants.

“I know I ask you for a lot of favors but could you–” Toji begins, causing you to chuckle. You extend your hand.

“Let’s go, Megumi. Let’s get some food.”

Before the sun is even up, Toji is knocking at your door to make sure you’re up and ready to go. Toji isn’t a big fan of crowds– Or finding parking near the beach because it feels impossible. Only way to avoid both of those is by going early, and even though you’re joining them, Toji isn’t leaving any later.

Luckily though, you’re ready when he’s knocking at your door, so you open the door and exit the house. Toji has a tote bag on his shoulder that has all the necessities for a beach day with a three-year-old, and of course, holding the sleeping toddler in his arms. He’s a bit surprised to see that you’re ready to say the least. He texted you the details and he still expected you to not be ready for some reason. 

“Ready?” He questions, and you hum in response. You begin to walk to his car in silence since you don’t want to wake up the sleeping child. You’re both still so tired as well so having a conversation isn’t in the cards for either of you. Toji has to wake himself up somehow because the yawn that leaves his lips doesn’t indicate that he’s fully aware to drive safely. “I think we need to stop for coffee.”

“I think so too.” You answer with a chuckle leaving your lips. You get to the car and you wait for Toji to unlock it, and when he does, you get into the passenger’s seat. He puts the sleeping toddler in the car seat before he gets into the driver’s side. He yawns as he turns on the car.

“Fuck… I usually don’t need coffee but today–” He begins, and a yawn escapes his lips. Maybe he decided to wake up way too early. But the beach is a two hour drive, so he’s not too early. He begins to drive to the nearest coffee shop

“You need it to drive.” You tell him. “I need coffee every day. I can’t handle all those kids without having at least a cup of coffee.”

“Yeah… I can barely handle my one and only kid, I can’t imagine having to deal with more than one.” Toji says. Your eyes are slowly shutting, and you’re wondering if it’s best to just skip out on the coffee and sleep while Toji drives to the beach. Toji has to keep himself awake before he gets his coffee, so he decides he’ll talk to you, “So are you spending the day with us or are you going to do your own thing?”

“I might just join you two since I have nothing else to do.” You answer.

“You could’ve invited a friend along so you wouldn’t have to be stuck with us. I wouldn’t have minded driving someone else.”

“Toji… I’m sorry to break the news to you but I don’t have many friends. And by that I mean I have no friends.” You tell him, and he chuckles in response. “If you don’t want me to join you, I’ll just move over somewhere that’s not bothering you.”

“No! It’s fine. I really don’t mind it, if anything I’m glad that you’re joining us.” Toji responds. He pauses for a moment before he feels the need to add, “And when Megumi heard that you were joining us, he was thrilled. The kid has grown fond of you.”

“He better. We spend a lot of time together.” You manage to laugh. You arrive at the coffee shop and he parks outside.

“What kind of coffee do you want?” Toji asks as he unbuckles the seatbelt. You tell him the coffee order and he exits the car. You smile as you watch him walk into the place, thinking about what a nice neighbor you’ve gotten.

You end up shaking the thought out of your head because last time you thought about what a nice neighbor you had, you ended up married to said neighbor.

Megumi is wide awake when you get to the beach. The sun is shining directly on the pristine blue ocean, and the toddler is amazed as he looks at it. The little boy loves the water, and he’s never seen a pool of water so large before. It makes him think about the beginning of summer, when Toji had a bit more free time and would fill up a toddler pool, and allowed him to play in the water.

“Pool!” Megumi points out, looking out the window while Toji looks for a parking spot. Megumi’s eyes are wide, and he’s trying to undo the seatbelt so he can press his face against the window and stare really well at the sea that he calls a pool.

“That’s the sea, Megumi.” Toji corrects the child, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Megumi stares in awe, and he just wants to open the car door and run outside. “We’re almost there, you can wait.”

“Daddy, let’s go.” Megumi says, as if it’ll make his father park any faster. Toji eventually finds a spot, and Megumi is fidgety while he waits for his father to take him out of the car seat. You’re half-awake, and Toji taps your shoulder to fully wake you. You weakly smile at him, stretching your legs before you open your door. “Daddy!”

“Be patient, Megumi. If you keep pushing it, we might just go back home.” Toji threatens, and the child gets the hint. He’s still impatient, so he kicks his feet into the air while he waits for his father to let him out of his carseat. You help Toji out, so while he picks Megumi up, you get the tote bag that’s in the backseat.

When you’re both ready, you begin to walk to the beach. Toji holds his son, while you carry the bags. There’s not many people at the actual beach, so you’re able to find a nice spot fast. Toji puts Megumi down on the sand, and takes the tote bag from you. Megumi begins to run to the water, and Toji has to grab the toddler by the top of his head, “Play in the sand for five minutes, if you can’t control yourself, you won’t go play in the water at all.”

Toji gets the towel from the bag and he sets it down on the sand. Megumi is kicking his feet, making the sand go everywhere. Five minutes feel like an eternity for him. You help Toji set up so it’s faster for them. When there isn’t much to do, Toji looks around for a bathroom,

“Will you watch our stuff for a couple of minutes while we change into our swimsuits?”

“Yeah.” You nod, and you watch Toji pick up Megumi from the floor, and walk away. Megumi’s arms extend toward the ocean which causes you to laugh. You look in your bag for your swimsuit, making sure you packed it up because you don’t intend to spend the whole day sitting on a towel. Luckily, you don’t have to run to a nearby store to buy an overpriced swimsuit, because you remembered to pack it up.

You take a moment to admire nature. You inhale the sweet scent of the beach that’s most likely the smell of sunscreen. You listen and feel the warm breeze that soothes the hotness that the sun causes. The breeze plays a melody in your ears, and takes you back to simpler times when you used to come to the beach on vacation all the time. Your hand goes into the sand, and you grab a handful of it. You hate how at the end of a long beach day, the sand manages to get everywhere. You want to laugh as you recall your late-husband’s voice complaining about how the sand got in the car, making it dirty. You miss that.

You hear your name, but it isn’t Toji’s voice. You look up and you see an old friend that you haven’t seen in around a year. You furrow your eyebrows and end up looking away, looking at the seemingly endless blue ocean. “It’s been so long, how are you holding up?”

“I don’t know you, sorry. Care to remind me who you are?” You respond, and the man chuckles. It’s been around four months since the last time he saw you, and it’s fair to say that you’re upset with him– So upset that you choose to act as if you don’t know him. He invites himself to join you, taking a seat next to you on one of Toji’s towels.

“Are you mad at me?” He questions, and you don’t respond. He looks around, and from the bag he sees floaties for a kid. “Are you here with someone? Did you move on already?”

“Gojo, it’s none of your business.” You finally tell him, and he wonders if you’ve already found someone else. Or if Kento had a kid that he hid from the world. Then a tall man walks by, and Satoru immediately assumes that you’ve moved on and that the muscular intimidating man is your new boyfriend.

“Is this your friend?” Toji asks, and you glare at Satoru before you look over at Toji. A shirtless Toji that holds his and his son’s clothes. He has his sunglasses on, but the last thing you’re paying attention to is his face. You didn’t get to admire his body when you slept together because you didn’t have much lighting, but this time the sun shines on him, allowing you to appreciate every crevice of his body. At the end of his swimming trunks, you see the little hand that holds on to Toji, and you see Megumi with a matching swimsuit.

“He was bothering me.” You inform Toji, and Toji stuffs the clothes in the tote bag. Toji clears his throat before he crosses his arms.

“I’ll give you a minute to leave.” Toji says while Megumi walks over to you. Toji made it clear to the toddler that he can’t go near the water without an adult present, and since neither of you seem to go to the water, Megumi walks over to you while his father deals with the stranger.

“Or what?” Satoru questions. Satoru isn’t exactly scared by the man that looms over him. Still, Toji is intimidating. You’re not paying much attention to them as Megumi puts his hand near your ear, about to whisper something to you,

“Let’s go to the pool.” Megumi whispers, causing you to laugh. You’re not paying attention to the interaction that’s happening next to you, until Satoru stands up.

“Leave her alone.” Toji demands, but Satoru isn’t listening. He doesn’t take orders from anyone.

“Do you want to do something cool before that?” You ask Megumi, picking him up from the floor and walking away from the men. You know Toji would want to put sunscreen and the floaties on the kid before letting him play in the water, so you decide to play in the sand with Megumi while Toji deals with your old friend.

“What? Is she your little girlfriend or what? It hasn’t even been a year since her husband died and she’s here with… Some guy.” Satoru says, and Toji realizes that he isn’t just some stranger. But that still doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s bothering you.

“I told you to leave her alone. Leave or I’ll knock your teeth out.” Toji threatens. “She’s my sweet neighbor, and trust me, I’ll be upset if you ruin her beach day.”

“Neighbor?” Satoru questions. Satoru ends up deciding that he loves his teeth, and that he came to the beach to relax and clear his head not get into a fight with a stranger, so he decides to walk away. When Satoru leaves, you pick up Megumi who was having fun slapping the sand.

Toji doesn’t question anything when you’re back in front of him. He bends down and gets the floaties for his son. He puts them on Megumi and begins to blow air into them, while you grab  your swimsuit and go to the bathroom to change as well.

The entire time, Toji’s eyes are on you. While you play with Megumi in the water, when you take a moment to lay down in the sun, when you go to a nearby shop to eat something. You can tell he likes the way the swimsuit looks on you, and he’s barely trying to hide it. It flatters you, but you’re also wondering if you should’ve chosen something more modest.

Around six almost seven in the afternoon, you’re packing up your stuff, getting ready to go. Megumi is sleepy after accidentally getting salt water in his eyes so many times in the day. Additionally, Megumi usually has a nap time which was skipped today. Megumi went to hug you, and he didn’t let go as he began to fall asleep.

“My back is burning.” Toji comments, and you chuckle.

“You should’ve let me put sunscreen on your back.” You respond. You watch him put on a shirt, and you almost pout when he does so. But you’ve been appreciating him for the entire afternoon. Toji glances at you and at Megumi.

“Do you want me to take him off your hands?” Toji questions, watching Megumi’s head rest on your shoulder. You hold him, and you try to stand up. “He just hugged you and ended up glued there?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle. “I do want to put on some clothes before getting into the car.”

You give Megumi to Toji before grabbing your bag and walking to the bathroom. Toji looks down at the toddler and smiles. He’s been planning this beach day for months, just thinking about his baby boy playing in the sea. 

Megumi had a lot of fun, playing around in the water with you, then deciding to play with the sand. It’s fair to say that Megumi had fun in the sea that he calls a pool. Toji takes a seat on the sand as he looks at the pinkish sky. He smiles, just appreciating everything. He finds himself grateful that he decided to invite you. Megumi wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun if it was just him.

He kisses the top of Megumi’s head, while his hand runs up and down the toddler’s back. The beach slowly becomes empty as people decide to go back home. This is one of the best times to be at the beach, and if it weren’t for the fact that he has to work tomorrow, he’d stay a little longer. He also has to make sure you get home early enough so you’re not completely tired at work tomorrow.

You walk back to them, and take a seat next to Toji. He looks over at you, and he tries to smile but it comes off as horrible. You chuckle. “Thank you for inviting me. I had fun.”

“I’m glad you came along.” He says. “I’m really grateful to you.”

“Really?” You question, a bit surprised at his words.

“Yeah.” He says. “You’re really helping me with Megumi. So much. And all because I carried a mattress up to your apartment.”

“Well to be fair, I couldn’t have done it with you… And I might need you to get it out of my apartment.” You tell him, and he ends up laughing. You both look at the sunset.

“Is there any way I can repay you for all you’re doing?” Toji asks, as he thinks about how yesterday his son woke you up and you still brought the stuffed animal over to him. Megumi is growing extremely fond of you.

“Maybe we can come back to the beach when summer comes again.” You answer. “And stay till the sunset is over.”

“Deal.” Toji says. You stick your pinky out and put it in front of his face. Toji can’t help but think about how childish it is, but he still intertwines his pinky with yours.

“The sunset is beautiful.” You tell him, your eyes unable to tear away from the beautiful sky. It reflects on the ocean, and it’s truly one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Simple moments like these make you glad that you’re still alive.

“Yeah.” He agrees. He can’t remember the last time he watched a sunset, and he forgot how much he loved them. Yet as he sits he can’t help but think, “I’m worried about the sand and the car though.”

“I think you’ll be fine.” You can’t help but smile, “I’ll help you clean it up.”

🏷️ @Instantgalaxysheep @happidiluc @Konekobby @bbqyuyuworld @slut4madara @keithslonelyreadingcorner @Tarajaxx @galactict3a @cloudsinthecosmos @uhremmi @sillyalo @klonisx @sakurasimppp @sunflwrsugar @tojianddabisslut @hiraeth117 @charismaya @megumuro @lilith412426 @violet-19999 @otakusan90s @jumpinjaxx @whatdudtheysay @jjmsg @songbirdgardensworld @t4naiis @waitcries @imvivian @miraes-world @pinksilk @apparentlycursed @spookitapes @sakuralikestars @wiserebelpartypie @elegantpotato617 @lem-hhn @missyasma @dont-ask-me-pls @hnysmut @ryomenswife @spookydaddy01 @iitangerine @Matchamidoriya @sukunababe

Oh~ I like this, I don’t see enough ongoing Chrollo fic~ and this captures his personality brilliantly in my opinion.

Burgeon - 2

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader (Soulmate au)

Warnings: Chrollo being as starved as a mediaeval man who has never seen ankles, manipulation (specifically Pavlov-ing), idioms with a little gore

Word count: 4.3k

Part 1

The midnight breeze is something that Chrollo has been appreciating more and more recently. It plays the role of a refresher, something that eases his mind and relaxes any agitation he may have been accumulating. If anything, it makes him more… 'tame' for you.

Had he not had the chance to let the wind blow through his hair, he would've snapped at you to head back inside even with the blanket you're currently wrapped up in. But for now, Chrollo figures that you've earned this, even if you had been sick just a few days ago.

Chrollo can feel the way you eye how he rests his body completely against the railing with no regard for his safety. He can even declare with confidence that you're imagining him accidentally falling off, despite his back being turned to you. It's the way he can feel you tense up when he leans against it further that gives it away.

Such an interesting person. You had told him just two days ago during your sickness that you wished for him to die, yet now you're worried about him falling. The mind is more honest during sickness and sleep, so both reactions and claims are correct. Which one are you more inclined to, he wonders.

When you finally decide to take the step that brings you to the terrace instead of keeping you on the noncommittal line between it and the bedroom, he finds himself still staring at the city below him. A thought suddenly popped into his mind as it has remained idle for the past few minutes.

Were you not in deep sleep when he left the bed?

You were so soundly asleep that Chrollo found it rude to even think while laying next to you, the possibility of you waking up because of his possibly troubled thoughts was something he did not want to come true. That is why he, insomnia at its peak, had left for the balcony. To seek the refreshing cool air of approaching autumn.

And to, of course, not wake you up by accident.

However it seemed it backfired, for you've carefully taken a few steps towards him but stopped because you started shivering. Ah, such a fragile little thing. Don't you know that vulnerability is a predator's favourite?

Chrollo allows you to watch him in silence. Even with his back being turned to you, he is perfectly capable of feeling your eyes on him, and right now they're staring at his back in hesitance and perturbation.

"Can't sleep?"

Your question has no purpose being voiced, for you're well aware of how little sleep he usually gets. He goes to bed with you but falls asleep after you and wakes up before you. Even if that wasn't Chrollo's normal sleep cycle, he would've changed it to be so because having the luxury of being able to watch over you during one of your most unguarded, most vulnerable and most tempting moments is something he would never pass up on.

"Are you worried?" He tilts his head to face you who are now right by his side albeit a few steps away. "My, how thoughtful of you."

"Please stop smiling like that. It's creepy."

He chuckles, mirth evident in the crinkles around his eyes. "Why don't you teach me how to smile in a not so creepy way? Yours is beautiful, effulgent even. I'm sure I can learn a few things from you."

Such bashfulness you show. With the way your jaw tenses and you avert your eyes, Chrollo almost loses the sensation of the cool breeze in favour of soaking in the adorable expression on your face.

When you give no response, he goes back to the scenery in front of him. Chrollo's body once again relaxes against the railing, and his mind travels over to how any regular citizen would be in deep sleep at this very moment. They would be resting, oblivious to the crimes taking place at this hour. That sort of obliviousness is something he finds intriguing.

Chrollo's body melts into the balcony railing, his face being held up by his hands. You, however, seem a bit horrified at the position.

"Hey! Um… be careful. You might fall."

The railing is by no means short, so your paranoia most likely stems from the fall to the ground. Well, you're concerned and about him no less. He's flattered.

"I'm being serious, you idiot. You're going to fall."

He smiles, eyes still fixed on the city, "An interesting proposition."

"Well then," you scoff, "if you do fall, it'll just do me a favour by killing you."

"I suppose you're right. Love and infatuation are both poisons in their own way."

"..."

"You don't like my philosophy?"

Grey eyes stare into yours awaiting an answer. The demeanour is almost puppy-like, cute even.

"You know, you're the antidote to this poison," he states. "A ludicrous fact, but a fact nonetheless."

"Chrollo, I swear if you are trying to be Mr. Darcy at this very moment, I am obliged to remind you that you sound as creepy as an old man giving candy to a little girl."

"And what's so wrong with giving candy to little children?"

"Exactly!"

You back away a few steps, intently watching if he does more than just turn around to look at you. The way his hair dances in the light breeze makes you pause for a moment before you regain your voice. "I hope you do fall, off the railing that is."

As you waddle inside with the blanket still wrapped tightly around your figure, Chrollo suppresses a smile. Perhaps this is why destiny had given you to him. When you're not sulking or rebelling against him on every breath he takes, you make for quite amusing company even if it is out of capitulation.

Chrollo ought to wait out here until you're asleep. That way, he'll be able to kiss you goodnight without any protests.

-

The device in Chrollo's hands taunts and ridicules him. Though switched off, merely looking at it is a daunting task, for he is well aware of what he will find. Carefully, Chrollo switches it on, smiling at the wallpaper of the street cat you had mentioned before he took you.

The gallery icon on your phone's home screen calls to him like a siren's song, but Chrollo practises self restraint and instead lets all the notifications pile up before putting the device on aeroplane mode. He had initially removed anything that could allow GPS tracking of the device but hadn't bothered to check if anyone was worried about you.

Well, you did make it on the news. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a search operation for you as well, but what does he know? He took you and left the city after a week. How they dealt with you supposedly going missing is their problem, not his.

Chrollo checks your social media accounts one by one, going through the chats and messages. One particular male's chat history is specially ticking him off, the absurd confidence he exudes for someone of such low calibre and his attempts at subtly flirting with you are almost pitiful.

Thankfully, you don't seem interested by how your responses are worded. Another point to himself. Not a single contact in your phone except for your parents is important. Speaking of parents, Chrollo wonders if he could have gotten along with them well.

Well, to get along with them would mean having to risk you running away since forming a relationship with them requires you to be free. Nevermind then. He'll remain as is.

Though your chat history with your mother wasn’t on the top, a message from her had caught his eye immediately. ‘I miss you,’ it read. It’s possible she sent it to your contact in order to seek closure. It doesn’t matter. You were destined for him and with him you shall be.

The sound of the bathroom door opening doesn't affect Chrollo's work. He continues in his pursuit, all the while eyeing you, hair wet and nape completely exposed, as you quietly go inside the bedroom. Amazing. You missed his presence on the sofa. How adorably oblivious.

Chrollo finally heeds and opens the gallery app on your phone, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation of what you may have there. In all honesty, the thought of raiding your phone hadn't crossed his mind before. He had originally kept it, although switched off, to keep an eye on who might be messaging you during your disappearance.

The chat you had with him is something he also went through. Chrollo found it to be a bittersweet reminder of how pitiful inexperience can make a man.

He scrolls down, immediately looking away when he finally finds pictures of you. The pictures are… too much for his taste. He's afraid that the smile you have in those pictures might cause a little 'problem' to rise or perhaps a blush, and he would rather not have you see him like that yet, especially if the pictures aren’t even anything scandalous.

Nevertheless, he scrolls down further, making a mental note to come back to those specific ones later when you're busy or asleep. More pictures of you appear, some with only you and some with your parents or friends. Chrollo scans over each and every single one, telling himself he will get back to those later and then questioning why he's continuing if he will return eventually.

Sifting through more photos, he finds a few that catch his immediate interest.

Baby photos. And… is that you as a toddler? How precious. Seems like your radiant smile has been a constant in your life. Ah, even as a child you were so full of life. Chrollo wonders what happened while growing up to create someone capable of murder, not that he can judge.

"What're you smiling like a creep for?"

A hand reaches to touch his lips, and he feels that they are in fact curled into a smile. So your smile is contagious even with photos? As expected of his soulmate.

"No really. You look creepy. Knock it off. Plus, having a phone in hand seems out of character for you."

Chrollo hums to himself, pleased that you don’t recognise the device in his palm. "You seem to be in a good mood. What might be the occasion?"

Having you initiate conversation with him all on your own is a sign that you don't feel any malice towards him for the time being. Emphasis on 'for the time being'.

Eyes follow the trail of a stray drop of water as it travels down your neck, over the curve of your collarbone and disappears into your shirt. It takes a lot of willpower for him to not comment on it because any sliver of bare skin is absolutely irresistible.

"None," you reply. "Unlike you, I'm not a pretentious prick all the time."

Pocketing the phone, he crosses his legs. However, Chrollo immediately changes his mind, the image of your infectious smile still fresh in his brain, and gets up. Your eyes carefully observe his movements, body language loud on how you're ready to slip inside the bedroom if he does anything you disapprove of.

Calloused hands reach for your face, and despite your initial hesitance, you allow him to do as he pleases. The memory of the action's previous occurrences may have resurfaced to have caused your sudden compliance. As his palms make contact with your cheeks, he notices a slight flinch from you but favours to ignore it.

"[Name]."

"Y-yeah?"

His thumbs brush your cheeks tenderly, and he notices you eyeing his tattoo. "Do you have any idea of how precious you are?"

"Do you have any idea of how annoying you are?"

He tuts. "Here I am trying to appreciate you and ask you for a date, but you keep insulting me. How rude."

"Date? I'm not up for listening to you talk smack about a dead poet again."

"By date, I mean date. I'm planning to take you somewhere, but I'm yet to decide where that is."

He can feel the eagerness in your actions when you grab his wrists, eyes wide with disbelief. Perhaps he shouldn't tell such a cruel lie, but it's all in good intentions.

"Really? You're not lying to me?"

Thumbs brush your lips and your hold on his wrists tightens.

"Again, I am planning. You’re yet to earn my favour, dear."

The seed has been planted, and now Chrollo must only await it to germinate. If he throws in the idea that he will allow you to leave and explore the city with him if you behave, it might create more happenings where you happily converse and interact with him.

"What do I do?"

Amazing. Eager already.

Chrollo stares at you for a moment. The first time he held your face in his hands, he had done it to convince you of his feelings, to show that he does care for you unlike what you had claimed. After that, he had done it to express his biases towards you wearing his clothes or something he picks, all the while complimenting you, a perfect recreation of a scene in one of your favourite novels.

Perhaps that had brought something into your mind because the next time he had repeated the action, you expectantly looked at him and being his soft spot, Chrollo yielded to your charms and ended up allowing you to watch the evening news like you requested.

Maybe… if he keeps this up, you might be more responsive and willing towards his affection. If he fulfils one desire each time he holds you this way, he might trick your brain into seeking out his touch even if it is for your own selfish gain.

"What you must do," he says, "is, for starters, stay still."

"What do you-"

He leans in, but even with his initial aim of your lips, suddenly goes to kiss your forehead. The affectionate gesture makes you freeze, and Chrollo smiles to himself while kissing each cheek as well.

He knows what you're thinking. If you want to see the city, feel the fresh air and finally get out of his presence for even a short while, you must let him do as he pleases. You're an open book to Chrollo but the opposite for the other way around.

With how easy you are to read, it's quite easy to rile you up. Nonetheless, if he keeps this up for longer, he may very well have you seek him out.

And there is nothing he covets right now more than for you to approach him yourself.

-

Chrollo sometimes wonders how you can sleep so carelessly next to him. There must be something fundamentally and deeply wrong with your brain to have fallen asleep like any other regular night even after witnessing a man being eaten alive by indoor fish, let alone in the same bed as the man who had admitted his crimes to you and also said that he does not regret any of them.

Will you continue to sleep so soundly after finding out about the troupe? Will you push him away? Go for the couch? Or will you remain unaffected?

He does harbour great curiosity about your upbringing and why you remain desensitised to such matters in the long run. An initial reaction to the act is perfectly normal and so is restlessness and a lack of peace of mind later, but you don’t seem to experience the latter other than the nightmares you had about the murder you committed. Ironically, even those had ceased after a few weeks.

While taking your Nen ability, he had come across a kind of darkness in your soul that had originally come from your mind. Did you witness violence while growing up? It was the kind of apathetic that a killer would usually nurture, but you seem to have empathy for everyone as well. It could be subjective. That would explain why you had chosen to claim that the man you killed was guilty of your late friend’s death when you had awoken from a nightmare you had after he took you in.

What’s worse is that the more time he spends with you, the less he has to think about his reactions. The most recent example is when the other day you had come to the balcony after him at night. Chuckling and smiling had come to him without a second thought when he jokingly asked you to teach him how to smile. It’s peculiar because he usually has to think over what reaction he should have in a scenario before displaying it.

Perhaps that is simply what it means to be with your soulmate. Chrollo is well aware that most of his expressions are fake and shallow but his sentiments are not. He was right in the beginning. You may just hold the key to him understanding himself better.

A groan and you stir in your sleep, eliciting Chrollo’s attention to your sleeping form once more. It did feel rather odd to share a bed with you at first, but he quickly grew accustomed. Another one of your many mysteries is why you didn’t bother refusing him when you started waking up to see him next to you in bed. It slowly developed into going under the covers together, another development you didn’t comment on, but you never allowed him to hold you at this time.

It could be that you don’t trust him, but despite all the crimes he has committed, he would never disrespect you in such a way. Consent is important to Chrollo, but he doesn’t bother with whether it is given wholeheartedly or under pressure.

As his finger lightly traces your collarbones, he adjusts his position and sits up. He could condition your mind into experiencing positive emotions after him touching you. It would be the same as how he has held your face in his hands and said something to make you happy. That way, you would associate the feeling of his skin to an influx of dopamine and actively seek out the addictive rush of hormones, consequently seeking him out.

A simple task in theory, but not near such in practice. You’re smart and you may catch on, especially when he considers that in highschool, an institution you have attended, students are made familiar with the scientist whose work he’s trying to recreate. Well, it’s not a hindrance. Challenges are fun, even more so when you are involved.

-

An idea that Chrollo had while waking you up in the morning is repeatedly nagging him mentally. It’s simple and easy to execute, but that isn’t what’s holding him back. How you may react is the problem.

During your fever, you were extremely explicit and straightforward in expressing your displeasure and animosity towards him. It had taken a few days even after your recovery to completely calm down, or at least to the extent that he could breathe without you having to complain about it.

Thinking about it now… you were kind of feisty during that period. Hm. Maybe even more… ‘desirable’.

No. Chrollo, you’re getting sidetracked.

There will be plenty of time to ponder over ways to tame you when you’re being rebellious and how to thoroughly enjoy it. For now, focus. How can you be riled up to the degree of spouting profanities but without any extreme anger? Would insulting your taste in books do it? No, you would probably bite back by calling him pretentious and be done with it.

Think.

What is one thing he can use to distress you and then subsequently use to de-escalate and soothe you? Your parents? Your friends? Who more do you have a close relationship with?

Ah…

That’s right.

“[Name]?”

You merely grace him with a questioning hum, face buried in the book he finished reading last night. Seriously. When will you get over trying to make fun of his tastes?

Chrollo rests his cheek on his fist, legs crossed on the sofa. You’ve hoarded the single seater one in hope that he wouldn’t seat himself next to you. How petty.

“Can you pause your reading? I have something I’d like to ask you”

“Done scheming?” You peek over the edge of the book before closing it and setting it aside. “Fine. Let’s hear what diabolical plan you’ve cooked this time.”

Chrollo raises a brow. “Diabolical plan? That’s a hefty accusation.”

“I’m not wrong though.”

“I suppose. Well, I was actually thinking over whether or not I should ask you this, but I settled on doing it. The conversation might just make our relationship less rocky.”

The explanation seems to have succeeded in capturing your attention, so Chrollo continues.

“Do you recall when you said that you wouldn’t be opposed to being with me? I was just wondering where that enthusiasm went. Do you not like me anymore?”

You narrow your eyes at him accusingly. “Why ask me now?”

“It’s been weighing on my mind for quite some time now. I suppose I just couldn’t help myself at the moment.”

“Well,” you drawl, “I didn’t realise back then that you were hiding so much from me. That too, important information. Had I known that you’re a criminal, I would’ve gone the other way.”

“Criminal? Darling, you’ve also killed a man.”

Suddenly, all your confidence is gone and you start sputtering out your words. “T-that was self-defence. Plus, he was the reason why she died. I-if it wasn’t for him-”

“Initially, you excused your crime by calling it self-defence, but now you claim it to be some sort of score settle since he led to your friend’s death? All I see here are excuses to escape the guilt, but we’re getting off topic. You are no better than I am, so why did your standing change?”

Chrollo’s argument seems to have dumbfounded you because all you do is stare at him with wide eyes. The curve of your nose, the tremble of your lower lip, the lashes framing those beautiful glossy eyes and the accentuation of your collarbone when you lean forward. During the time your brain wracked for a response, he did a once over of all those features, feeling particularly strong about how your eyebrows frame your overall expression.

As fulgent as you are, even during your lowest moments Chrollo will have to fight the urge to ruin whatever radiance may remain underneath your skin. Perhaps that is why he finds himself pitiful and mad when it comes to you. Just what is it about you that makes him claw your name off of his skin? What is the matter with those eyes that peer into his being, ripping off skin and flesh and settling between his bones, that makes him want to simply tattoo over his name on your back so that the entire world can see it?

Destiny is an awful thing, but Chrollo is equally as awful.

“Even if you reject me,” he says, slowly moving towards you, “you would never escape. Fate has handed you to me on a silver platter, and I would have to be dead to let you go.”

Chrollo has been proven wrong. You are in no way the key to understanding himself better. Instead, you are the means. If the changes you have brought to him in the short amount of time you have been with him are so significant, then it must only mean that he’s done something right. The fact that his heart beats faster in your close proximity rather than only during heists is just one of the many proofs.

“This isn’t how soulmates should be.”

“It isn’t? Enlighten me then,” he challenges. With both his hands on either armrest, he cages you to the seat, leaning in just a few inches away from your unnerved expression. “You are supposed to love me and I am supposed to love you. Simple enough.”

“No… this love… isn’t right.”

You’re cracking. Wonderful. This agitated look is simply enchanting with your intoxicating features. If he wasn’t aiming to recreate another gesture from one of your romance novels, he would have certainly taken advantage of your almost petrified state.

“Why not? Soulmates are supposed to live for the other person. What’s so wrong about staying with each other?”

Perhaps any sort of conviction you had has melted away, for all you’re doing is continuing to stare at him attentively. Is he too close? That would explain how guarded your body language is, but the way he’s leaning into you is supposed to fluster you. Hm, the conversation topic might have not been a good match. Oh well.

Chrollo retreats and decides that it’s time to put his theory to the test. Maybe he did get carried away and induce fear instead of anger but either two are negative emotions so it really shouldn’t matter. As he crouches down in front of you, he notices how you tense up. Gently, he holds your face in his hands again and waits for every fraction of a second for a reaction.

When you subconsciously relax under his touch, Chrollo is forced to suppress a grin.

“You’re safe with me, [Name]. No harm will ever come to you.”

The rollercoaster of emotions you just experienced must have given you whiplash because even now you don’t respond. However, Chrollo can feel how you physically relax. When he brushes his thumbs against your cheeks, you almost melt into his hands, but judging from your expression, you must be confused about the sudden security and contentment you feel.

Fate really must have a personal grudge with you for tying you to a man like Chrollo. To him, you’re a knife lodged inside his chest, but despite how much he may bleed, he will twist it further inside until it absolutely demolishes his heart. And even then, he will smile.

---

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

---

Yuuji is so cute and lovable and Sukuna is so cool and sensual I love this story

Devils roll the dice. Angels roll their eyes (Chapter 1)

Of course, you always knew that the angel and devil on people's shoulders can manifest into a physical form. But you didn't expect it to happen to you. And most of all, you didn't think they'd be so sexy.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) x Yuuji Genre: Urban Fantasy AU, fluff, smut Word Count: 7k Playlist: Angel and Devil Warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, poly, oral, fingering, creampie, anal. Mentions of a car accident in the past. Religious themes, sacrilege. Yuuji is an angel, and Sukuna is a demon. They will have a romantic and sexual relationship with reader and each other. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Thank you so much to my sweet friend @tinymaru for giving Yuuji and Sukuna their angel and devil look in the header! Love you!

This story is my contribution to the Heaven and Hell collab. Thank you so much to the lovely @semisgroupie for hosting this amazing collab! Also: Happy Birthday to you, Venus!!

They appear at your table without warning.

One moment you're wallowing in self-pity, wiping away some tears while taking a sip from the comfort-milkshake you ordered for yourself here in the slightly shabby diner you always go to after work when you're close to breaking down. And the next moment, you become aware of two tall figures stopping in front of your table.

You look up in confusion and slight alarm. What the fuck is it now? Not enough that you had a stressful day at work with two customers yelling at you on the phone while you had to stay friendly and professional, your shitty coworker ratting you out to your boss about a mistake you made, and that boss telling you that you have to take one more shift because your department is horribly understaffed. And now it looks like you're gonna get robbed or something in this shitty diner. Just great!

You're too done to even be scared as your gaze lands on the two strangers who dare to add even more problems to your already stressful day.

You blink in confusion. They look so much alike that they are probably twins, definitely brothers. Pastel pink hair, almost identical haircut, tall, buff body, very attractive. But as much as they look alike, they also give off very different vibes.

One of them is wearing all white. The other all black. One of them is smiling brightly. The other is glaring at you menacingly and has black tattoos lining his handsome face. One of them has honey-colored eyes that look golden somehow, and the other has maroon-colored eyes that seem to glow red.

It doesn't make sense. One of them appears bathed in a golden light while the other is standing enveloped in shadows. How is this possible? Is it a trick of the light? But the rest of the diner looks just like always.

Maybe you are finally losing your mind.

The smiley one in white lifts a tan hand in a little wave, and his smile grows even brighter. He looks like some college jock or something. Very handsome, dressed in sporty clothes, a soft-looking white hoodie, skinny white jeans, and matching white sneakers with gold-colored shoelaces. It suits him and accentuates his athletic build.

"Heyy, (y/n)! Did you have a rough day at work again, sweetheart? Can we join you, please? We're here to help!"

His voice is warm and pretty.

Pictures appear before your mind's eye: Honey and sunshine, gold wrappers around caramel chocolate, soft candlelight on a romantic date.

You furrow your brow in confusion. Why do you describe a stranger's voice in such a poetic way? Where is this coming from? And why does he act like he knows you?

You look directly into his eyes, realizing that he really has golden eyes. Are those contact lenses? And what does he mean, they are here to help you?

"Um...who are you?"

You hear an annoyed-sounding huff, and your gaze snaps to the guy in the elegant tailored black suit. His glowing red eyes bore into yours, making you feel strangely naked as if he can not only see through your clothes but also through your skin and flesh and see right into your heart and soul. It's a creepy feeling. You shiver slightly, unconsciously hugging yourself.

But you can't look away from him, as scary as he is. You imagine this is what it feels like to be trapped in a Venus flytrap. Knowing you will get devoured but still being attracted to the seductive scent of nectar that lured you in with the temptation of the most delicious meal you ever laid your eyes upon.

His muscular arms are crossed in front of his broad chest while he musters you as if you really are a mere fly. His voice is low and velvety, sounding somehow inappropriately erotic even though his reply isn't sexual in any way.

"What does it look like? We are your angel and your devil."

The same thing that happened when the guy in white talked to you happens again: Pictures appear in your mind. Dark red silk sheets, red neon lights, lovers entangled in a passionate embrace, a fire crackling in a fireplace, a juicy red apple offered on a plush velvet pillow. Temptation incarnate.

You realize that you moved closer to the edge of the bench. Closer to him. Your eyes widen in shock, and you grab the table tightly to stop yourself from moving.

His words slowly begin to register. Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls open in a surprised gasp.

"What? But..how? Why? How come I never saw you before? I...I thought I didn't have an angel and devil..."

The guy in black, your devil, you assume, clicks his tongue, raising his eyebrows while he lifts one elegant hand and inspects his slightly pointy black nails, looking so arrogant and annoyed but also sexy as hell. Literally.

A hysterical-sounding chuckle escapes your lips. But you fall silent when your devil speaks up again in his low, seductive voice:

"There was no use to show ourselves. Trust me, I didn't ask for this. I'm pretty busy ruling my circle of hell. I don't even know why I had to be bothered with something mundane like looking after a human anyways."

His little rant gets interrupted by the one with the golden glow around him. Your angel. He laughs softly, sounding sweet like cotton candy at Disney Land on a beautiful summer day.

His hand lands on the devil's arm, smacking it lightly. Tan, golden skin on black fabric, casting a warm glow over the shadows that seem to gather around your devil.

"Oh, please, don't act so almighty. I bet you are pretty bored down there on your lonely throne. I heard there's not much going on in the seventh hell circle apart from that river of blood."

He turns to you with a cute smile on his pretty face:

"I'm glad to finally meet you again, (y/n)! I've been watching over you for several years now. Can you recall your 18'th birthday when you got into that car accident? Maybe you remember me."

A memory comes to you. Lying in the wrecked car, waiting for help to come or for death. And suddenly, a soft glow. A feeling of peacefulness and safety washing over you. A warm hand holding yours, soothing words whispered to you, comforting golden light in the middle of the night.

A reassuring smile, pink hair, and a golden halo on top, something feathery soft brushing against your arms. A sensation of being wrapped in love and hopefulness.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Help is on the way. They'll be here any minute now. I'll stay with you until then. You'll be ok, I promise you. I got you. Just look at me. You're doing great. You want to live, right, sweetie? And you will. I love you so much, don't forget me, ok? Maybe we'll meet again."

You thought it had just been your delirious mind, high on adrenalin, confused from the shock.

"Wait.. so that was real? Are you...what? My guardian angel?"

"Yep, that's me! Yuuji, your guardian angel! I mean, it's my second job. We have a bit of a staff shortage since the world population has been increasing so much. So you only get one angel for all your needs and not several ones. I'm also the angel to guide your conscience. That little guy on your shoulder."

He looks at you with his big golden eyes, nodding and smiling, looking as if what he just told you isn't the craziest thing you have ever heard. Staff shortage in heaven, huh?

And describing himself as the little guy on your shoulder when nothing about him is little. He is tall and muscular, the glow surrounding him making him look ethereal, so powerful that it should be terrifying but instead makes you feel safe and protected.

Your mind is still struggling to accept that you met the angel and devil on your shoulder in the flesh. They really exist! Of course, you know that supposedly everyone has them, and some people meet the manifestations of them. You have even seen people accompanied by their angel and devil, but somehow they never looked so...so beautiful! They just looked like regular humans. Maybe only the people they belong to can see their true form?

Your angel, Yuuji, takes a step towards you. You can feel his aura. It's like feeling the sun coming out and warming you after shivering in the cold. It's like that sudden spark of hope you get when you receive good news. It feels like comfort and safety and love, and you almost start crying because it's so beautiful.

Your hands twitch and move forward out of their own accord. Before you can stop yourself, you tentatively touch Yuuji's hand with your fingertips, giving in to the need to touch this comforting aura. You feel warm and soft skin under your fingertips.

The angel laughs, a lovely sound like sunlight and diamonds glittering on wedding rings made of pure gold.

He turns his hand, so his palm is looking upwards, and he can take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers. His touch is gentle and reassuring. You remember it. It helped you in the darkest and loneliest moments of your life when you were lying in that car, so sure, there was no hope left until he appeared and wrapped you in his love.

A choked sob escapes your lips as tears gather in your eyes, and you tighten your hold on Yuuji's hand.

He squeezes your hand gently.

"Aww, I'm sorry, this must be a lot for you right now, sweetheart."

You are barely able to nod while staring at your hand in Yuuji's bigger one. You are holding hands with an angel!

"Y..yes.. this is kinda crazy."

A mocking-sounding laugh makes you turn your head towards your devil who's watching you with a rude look in his pretty eyes, which sparkle like rubies.

"Are you always this slow, princess?"

What is his problem? What did you do to piss him off that much? Your initial fear is forgotten, and you glare back at him.

"Are you always this grumpy?"

His red eyes flicker suddenly. They already looked devilish a moment ago, but now they are blazing with neon red fire. Your hand tightens its hold on Yuuji's. Maybe it wasn't the wisest decision to argue with a Lord of Hell. You are really grateful that your guardian angel is here too!

But to your utter astonishment, all the devil does is laugh softly before sliding into the booth and sitting down on the bench across from you. He places his elbows on the sticky table, resting his chiseled chin on one hand as he smirks smugly at you, eying you so intensely that it makes your skin crawl. He looks at you like a cat looks at a new plaything, a little mouse or bird it can toy with before it eats it.

His low voice is a sexy purr, seductive, making you lean towards him despite the fear you feel.

"I am Sukuna, your devil, and the one you should always listen to. I'll explain this only once, so you better listen closely, my dear:

I assume you are at least familiar with the concept of every human getting assigned a personal angel and demon, right? Our job is to guide your conscience. Some people never meet their angel and devil in the flesh because there's no need for it. They just go on about their boring everyday lives without much ado. Others meet their angel and demon at some point in their lives because a situation calls for it. And that's the case with you."

Somehow he's so close to you now, and one of his large hands reaches out to cup your chin with his thumb and index finger. You are mesmerized by his glittering red eyes, the black lines adorning his pretty face, his seductive voice, and the arrogant, sexy smirk on his pink lips.

The lips which are so close to yours now that you can feel his warm breath caress your skin when he continues to talk:

"There's only so long we can sit something out. But your constant worrying and obsessing over your job situation made it necessary for us to manifest in the mortal world. So now we're here at your disposal, unfortunately."

The last part is breathed against your lips, almost sounding like a moan, making you press your thighs together as your lips part in a soft groan, causing them to touch your devil's sinfully soft lips, sharing an accidental, almost-kiss that sends sparks through your body.

He pulls away with an evil grin on his handsome features, leaning back against the backrest of the bench, looking so conceited that it's infuriating.

You lick your lips and clear your throat feeling a bit dizzy. But Yuuji's strong warm hand squeezes yours gently, and it helps you focus again. Your angel joins you on the bench now, sitting next to you, sliding so close that you can feel his body heat next to you, warm and comforting.

You give him a grateful smile before looking at your devil again.

"Ok, thanks for the explanation. But um, look, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but why exactly are you here, Sukuna? Wouldn't it be better to only have an angel who guides us, humans? So we would make the righteous decisions?"

"That's not how it works, princess. What would hell be like if everyone made the right decisions and behaved themselves? We need souls down there too."

"Oh, that sounds extremely trustworthy, of course. Yep, I'll definitely listen to your advice now."

He sighs at your sarcastic reply, but you see the amusement in his ruby eyes. The devil seems to enjoy this situation a lot more than he claims to do. Maybe it's really boring in his circle of hell.

"Trust me, I'm not planning to drag you into hell with me. You already sound like a real brat. I wouldn't want that around me all the time! And my advice is useful. An angel will tell you to put others first, but a devil like me will help you fight for your own goals."

Next to you, Yuuji laughs softly, but his laugh sounds happy, genuinely amused, and good-natured.

"Sukuna is right. You can benefit from your devil's conviction. That's what this is about, after all. There are always two sides to everything. And we help you find the way that's best for you. Hey, can we order something now? Those milkshakes and burgers look delicious! I always miss human food when I'm not here!"

His pretty face is alight with excitement, golden eyes sparkling happily, sunshine smile making him look so beautiful that you can only stare at him with a warm feeling spreading through your chest and butterflies beginning to set flight in your belly.

"Of course, I'll order all the milkshakes and burgers you want, my sweet angel. You can have anything you want."

You blink in confusion. Why did you say that? Sukuna's laughter carries to your ear, and his amused, sexy drawl:

"And you thought only the demon would be dangerous, hm? Well, darling, your angel boy here is a hazard too."

At the same time, Yuuji exclaims loudly:

"Oh good Lord, I am sorry! Did I use some angel power? I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry, sweetheart! You don't have to buy anything for me! I have my own money!"

Angel power? Making you want to buy things for him and kneel in front of him to worship him and offer all your belongings to get a bit of his heavenly love? Wow.

Your life will definitely be a lot more interesting from now on, with your angel and devil by your side.

But Yuuji and Sukuna manifested here to help you, right? And you really could use some advice when it comes to your problems at work.

Also, they look really cute when they both sip on their milkshakes, vanilla for Yuuji, and maraschino cherry for Sukuna. And very pretty. And so sexy. You can't stop staring at them.

Whoever is in charge of assigning an angel and devil to a human did a fantastic job when deciding you'd get such gorgeous messengers of heaven and hell!

"So, are you gonna be here all the time? My apartment isn't that big, you know?"

It's a strange feeling walking down the street to your apartment flanked by those two tall pink-haired guys, knowing they are your personal angel and devil. The weird thing is not that they are here, but that it feels so natural as if they belong here by your side.

You just worry a bit as you near your home because you don't have enough space to have them both staying over. The couch is the only space besides your bed that can function as a sleeping place, but it only has enough room for one person. Or angel. Or devil. Do angels and devils even sleep?

Sukuna's deep chuckle lets you see more images in your head. A dark red velvet blanket and silk pillows, red candle wax dripping onto naked skin, crystal glasses with red wine standing on a nightstand, two figures entangled on a richly decorated bed, passionate kisses, rhythmic thrusts, and cries of pleasure.

"Oh princess, don't worry about that. I can just sleep on top of you. And angel boy here can sleep on the floor. Just use your wings as cushions, sweetheart."

"Oh heavens! I won't let you molest (y/n)!"

"It's not molesting if she wants me in her bed, and let's face it. All three of us know that she does."

The smirk on his face is so insufferable that your fingers twitch with the need to punch him. But Yuuji's warm touch on your arm makes you take a deep breath and instead just reply:

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I want Yuuji in my bed!"

"Look, there's no need to fight! We don't have to be here all the time. We will always be in your soul, yes. Watching you and your surroundings, but we don't have to be here in the flesh all the time. Only when we want to communicate with you."

Yuuji smiles reassuringly at you, solving the problem with that useful piece of information that your devil decided to withhold from you. But the relief is short-lived because Sukuna's velvety voice drawls:

"Well, then leave, little angel brat. I sure as hell won't."

Smug satisfaction is spreading over his handsome face. Yuuji's eyes turn so golden that they are blinding to look at here on the dark street. He sends your devil an indignant look.

"If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving either!"

An hour later, you have managed to shower and get ready for bed and are now lying on your side with a nervously fluttering heart as you watch your angel getting undressed in front of you.

Since Yuuji and Sukuna decided to bless you with their presence all night, you chose to let your angel join you in bed and banish your devil onto the couch. After all, sharing a bed with an angel sounds pretty safe.

But doubts are creeping into your mind as you watch an already shirtless Yuuji pulling down his white pants.

He is gorgeous. Tan skin with a golden glow, buff muscles everywhere. Broad shoulders, firm biceps, deliciously toned pecs with very lickable pink nipples, defined abs, a v-line that makes you want to get on your knees and worship him all night. Strong muscular thighs and a big bulge in those tight white boxer briefs that lets you know exactly how big your sweet angel is down there.

He looks at you with a pretty smile on his handsome face, truly looking angelic. So breathtakingly beautiful that it almost hurts to look at him.

Maybe it was a stupid idea to say you want him to sleep in your bed.

But he's already lifting the blanket, slipping underneath it to join you with a big smile on his soft pink lips and a pretty sparkle in his golden eyes, and how could you say no? And after all, he is also your guardian angel. You feel safe with him. You know he will protect you, will take care of you.

It's not yourself who you fear for. It's him.

Because it's so hard to stop yourself from touching him, from running your hands over that sun-kissed skin, caressing those big pecs and everything else, hoping that you can make your sweet angel boy moan because he probably makes the most heavenly sounds!

You gulp hard, tensing up because you feel so guilty about having those impure thoughts about a messenger of heaven.

But then Yuuji is there right in front of you with his cute smile and comforting presence. One of his large warm hands cups your cheek gently.

"Hey, please don't be scared, my love. I promise you are safe with me. You can just go to sleep. I will protect you."

"It's not me I am worried about!"

Your eyes widen as you realize what you just blurted out. Why did you do that? And why is your mouth opening again to add more?

"You are so beautiful, and I feel this...this urge to get closer...I am so sorry, Yuuji!"

His thumb caresses your cheek with so much tenderness that it makes your heart overflow with warmth.

"Aww, hey, it's ok, sweetheart. I get it. You want to touch me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can. Don't hold back, sweetie. It's fine! I am in love with love and affection. I love sharing it with you. And I love you. I love you very, very much."

God, he is perfect!

Before you can stop yourself, your hands are running over his buff biceps, marveling at how firm his muscles feel and how soft his skin is.

And then you get a taste of heaven when Yuuji's warm lips find yours in a tender, slow kiss that tastes like cotton candy and sweet strawberries and clouds and sunshine and everything pastel pink and sweet.

This must be how the kiss of true love mentioned in fairytales feels like. Because Yuuji is the embodiment of love and comfort and everything good in this world. You find yourself sighing happily into his mouth when his soft tongue slips between your lips.

He keeps kissing you, slow and deep, so loving and sweet. Your heart clenches at the realization that Yuuji won't pull away unless you do. He won't take the comfort of his heavenly kiss away from you. It's your decision when you are ok with ending the kiss.

He's so good to you, truly your angel.

You pull away with a happy smile, and there's a matching cute grin on Yuuji's pretty face too.

"Do you want to sleep, cutie? It's already late, and I want you to get some good rest."

You nod, unable to say anything because you fear that if you do, you will end up crying. The last months have been rough for you, always stressing about so many things, always too much work, too much overthinking, too much bullshit to deal with.

You had wished for someone to hug you, to listen to you, to just let you fall into their arms and forget about the craziness of the world out there for a little while. And now your wish has come true so unexpectedly in the form of this beautiful and sweet angel who's currently lying half-naked in your bed after blessing you with the best kisses of your life.

Finally, you open your mouth to whisper in a voice thick with emotion:

"Thank you, Yuuji. For everything. For being there for me in the night of the accident. And for today. You're making me feel a lot better."

"Aww, please don't thank me, sweetheart. You're very welcome. I love taking care of you."

His smile is like your personal sun right here in your bed.

Yuuji snuggles closer to you, his strong arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. He rests his head on your chest and makes a cute noise that makes you reach out and run a hand through his soft pink hair that feels like you imagine a fluffy cloud to feel like.

You close your eyes while cuddling your angel boy. He is warm and heavy, but not in a suffocating way but in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable and bursting from happiness.

You sigh happily, realizing that you haven't been this at ease for months. Usually, you lie awake for hours at night obsessing over the things your coworkers did or the piles of work waiting on your desk. But tonight, you feel happy and relaxed, wrapped in your angel's strong arms. Enveloped in love and affection, cuddling your personal piece of heaven as you drift off to a peaceful slumber filled with nothing but sweet dreams about pastel pink clouds and golden eyes.

You wake up the next morning feeling more rested than you did in a long time, stretching carefully so as not to wake your pretty angel, who's still snoring softly against your chest, feeling so comforting on top of you.

Just as you finish that thought, he stirs, and his eyes open, pure gold blinking sleepily at you through long black lashes. He's so pretty! It's like you have your personal sunrise here in your bed.

"Good morning, my sweet angel."

You can't help but coo at him and pet his soft pink hair as a happy smile spreads over your face. Yuuji blesses you with one of his angelic smiles as he leans into your touch.

"Aww, good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than in months! Thank you."

He laughs softly, a happy, joyful sound, so delighted that he could help you. Slowly he untangles himself from you and braces himself on his strong arms to lean over you, buff body covering yours completely. Soft skin and firm muscles. And to your pleasant surprise, even angels seem to have morning wood, rubbing against your thigh big and hard, heaven's sweetest treat.

Yuuji leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'm glad about that! Is it ok if I take a bath? Us angels are always clean, but bathing is one of the things I really enjoy so much when I'm on earth! Bubble baths are so amazing! I don't understand why we don't have them! So, can I please?"

Your chest feels so warm. He's so sweet, so pure and genuine, so lovely and good down to his very core. How could you say no to his every wish? If your sweet angel wants to take a bubble bath, he should definitely do that.

Even though you would very much want him to stay here in your bed, on top of you, where you can run your hands over his muscular back and feel the big hard bulge in his boxer briefs press against you.

You wonder how it would feel to get fucked by him, by an angel. Your panties feel wet all of a sudden, and you can't stop yourself from arching your back a bit, making your panty-clad pussy rub against him.

There's only the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers separating you, and you can feel his hot erection throbbing through it. And he can probably feel your wet heat too.

"Yuuji..."

The guilt you felt last night is gone. He told you it's ok to touch him. You're just not sure how much touching is allowed. Do angels indulge in carnal desire?

Yuuji's breathing heavily when you look up at him, his eyes shining even more golden, making them look like two little suns.

"Yes, sweetie?"

He rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you feel more of him, and elicits a soft gasp from you when his large cock glides so heavenly over your swollen clit. His glowing golden eyes never leave yours as he repeats the motion, watching you closely for your reaction.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to give you anything."

"I...I want...Um, can we? Is it ok if we... Oh gosh. Do angels have sex?"

Your angel boy's laugh is beautiful and sweet like the chiming of a hundred little bells. And the way he's rutting against you should already be answer enough, but his low soothing voice spells it out for you, sounding warm like honey, a sensual, comforting caress:

"Yes, we do. We make love. Do you want that? Do you want me to make love to you?"

You can't help but moan at his words, and your fingers tighten on his muscular back, fingernails digging gently into his warm skin as your hips buck up against him.

"Yes, please. Make love to me, my angel."

You spend the next half an hour learning just how heavenly sex with your angel is. He's taking you to several highs, making you feel like you are on cloud nine when his large hands cup your tits and his soft lips spoil your nipples with tender kisses, making you moan and cream so much that you almost cum from just this.

But Yuuji still has a lot more to bless you with, and his sweet kisses wander down your body. His hands and mouth make love to every inch of your skin they find on their way.

You welcome him eagerly between your spread thighs, so wet for him like you've never been for anyone else before. And beautiful Yuuji pulls down your panties and smiles up at you with his sweet sunshine smile, so loving and tender in everything he does.

"So pretty my love. Everything about you is so pretty. I want to taste your sweetness on my tongue."

He eats you out with his sweet soft angel mouth, kissing and licking and sucking your clit until you are lost to sweet heavenly bliss and yank on his soft pink hair as your thighs shake uncontrollably. Your back arches, and you cry out his name as you cum and cum and cum.

A series of gasps and moans tumbles out of your mouth, followed by an "Oh sweet heaven!" when you see his beautiful thick cock for the first time, so hard for you, so big and strong and pretty.

A loud, needy cry of his name when he pushes inside you, and you wrap your legs around his waist as Yuuji folds you in half, making sweet love to you with deep gentle thrusts that make you feel like floating through heaven.

"Is that good, sweetie? Does it feel good? I love you so much, sweetheart ah! Ah! I love how tight you are and how warm, so wet, oh sweetie! This is heaven on earth!"

His moans and whines sound so cute, so pretty, making your head spin. You look up at your beautiful sexy angel through half-lidded eyes, which are blurry with tears because his cock hits the right spot over and over again.

His strong body presses you down in the perfect way that makes you feel taken care of and fucked so good that you can't stop crying and moaning and begging for more.

And your sweet angel boy gives you more. He gives you anything you need without any hesitation. Strong snaps of his hips, deep, slow thrusts, perfect cock, and perfect body fucking you to paradise.

Your orgasm on your angel's cock is the sweetest bliss you have ever felt. You're cumming so hard, body spasming with wave after wave of pure heavenly ecstasy, as your pussy clenches around Yuuji's thick cock, and you cry out loudly, unable to hold back.

You're still a mewling crying mess when you feel your angel pump you full with his thick hot ropes of seed.

He stays inside you, heavy body pressing you down exactly how you need it, making you feel so protected and full and loved, as Yuuji kisses you tenderly, moaning softly into your mouth.

You caress his muscular back and his biceps, marveling at how good he feels. You could spend forever like this, wrapped in your angel's arms, his wonderful cock inside you, his strong, buff body on top of you. Basking in the exhilarating, joyous feeling of afterglow after he blessed you with the sweetest fuck of your life.

Or lovemaking, as he calls it. And that's truly what it is. You have never felt so loved before. So filled with love, surrounded by it, wrapped in it.

He pulls out slowly when your alarm goes off, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and smiling this sweet smile at you.

"I guess it's time for you to get ready for work, sweetheart. You know what? I'll run a bath for you and me."

And he disappears into the bathroom, giving you a lovely view of his gorgeous naked body, the divine sight of his back muscles and toned thighs, and that firm round ass.

You moan and let your head fall back on the pillow. Meeting your angel in the flesh is definitely the best thing that ever happened to you.

When you get up a few minutes later, you find out that Yuuji's cum is just as pretty as the rest of him. Milky white trails run down your thighs, thick and glittering so prettily, like vanilla milkshake laced with gold dust.

You follow your sexy angel into the bathroom with wobbly legs and a racing heart.

You're glad you always set your alarm early because this way, you have enough time to enjoy your bath with Yuuji. He's sitting behind you in the tub, laughing happily because he loves the bubble bath so much. Blowing white foam off his large tan hands and chuckling in delight.

But his hands also do other things. They wash you with gentle caresses, making you so horny once again that you spread your legs needily for your angel. And he smiles and kisses you and rubs slow, tender circles around your swollen clit until you cum again, slumping bonelessly against his muscular body afterwards.

When you walk into the living room a while later, dressed and ready to make some breakfast, you catch yourself smiling. Something which usually doesn't happen when you're about to go to work. Your guardian angel is already doing a fantastic job! The prospect of going to work doesn't seem that bad after this blissful morning.

You are so deep in thought that you don't see the devil sitting on your couch until his velvety low voice purrs mockingly:

"Good morning to you too, princess. Yes, I slept great on your ratty couch. Thank you for asking. Your hospitality really knows no bounds."

You gasp and stop in your tracks, head whipping around to look at the impressive sight in front of you.

Sukuna is sitting on the couch, long legs spread slightly, mustering you with his glowing red eyes, which are glittering like red diamonds in the dimly lit room. The smug smirk on his handsome face makes him look arrogant. But also incredibly sexy. He looks like a king sitting on his throne.

And you feel so small all of a sudden, like a mere peasant who has to crawl in the dirt before the king's throne, begging him for forgiveness for not treating him like the powerful and perfect being that he is.

Without realizing it, you walk towards Sukuna. The grin on his beautiful face grows bigger. One long finger brushes over his lips. You watch, mesmerized as his forked tongue darts out to lick over the pointy tip of his black fingernail. His tongue is tattoed too, you realize, and it makes you groan helplessly.

Somehow the living room is much darker than it should be at this time of day. Wrapped in shadows and a red glow, making it appear like the insides of a nightclub. The air is thick, seductive, luring you to get even closer to the enticing demon dressed in his elegant black suit with the black dress shirt and dark red tie.

You reach your devil and open your mouth to say something, but Sukuna's large hands land on your hips before you can do anything else. He pushes you down with ease, strong hands making you kneel between his long, toned legs.

Your chest is heaving heavily in a mix of fear and desire as you look up at your beautiful devil. An elegant hand lands on your head, strong fingers petting your hair like one would pet a dog.

The smirk on the demon lord's beautiful face grows even more devilish.

"Yeah, that's much better. See, this is where you belong. At my feet, crawling before my throne."

Suddenly a light tinkle is heard, the sweet chiming of bells, and Yuuji appears in a puff of pastel pink clouds and glittering gold dust, manifesting directly behind Sukuna. He puts a tan hand on the demon's shoulder.

"Not so fast, my sweet devil. I think you forgot that you and I are supposed to serve her and not the other way around."

Your devil groans and his hold on your hair loosens.

"You're so annoying, angel brat! Always spoiling all the fun I have. I'm finally here in the human world with all its vice and sin, but instead of having the time of my life, I get kept in check by some pathetic virgin?"

The spell Sukuna had over you breaks, and you can finally breathe again, taking a deep lungful of air. The room seems lighter, too, now. You get up, and the first thing you say is:

"He isn't a virgin, trust me."

At the same time as Yuuji says:

"Why do you think I'm a virgin? Just because I'm an angel? You know we have fun in heaven too! We live for love! And that includes physical love. We cherish it. We admire and love each other's bodies. So maybe you are the real virgin here because I don't think there's much love down in your hellhole!"

"Let me tell you that I have a whole castle full of succubi and incubi at my beck and call."

"Oh wow, great, a demon joy house. It must be so amazing to know they only share their bodies with you because you order them to or because they want to get something out of it. Don't you want to feel loved? It's so much nicer when someone comes to you willingly and wants to show you how much they love you! When someone wants to please you and make you happy without a selfish reason!"

You see a bellicose twinkle in both their eyes. It makes you gulp hard as it is a reminder that they are both extremely powerful beings who once fought in a war on different sides. A war which Yuuji's side won, and that resulted in Sukuna and his companions getting cast from heaven. So it's no wonder that they are so quickly at each other's throats. The angel and the fallen angel.

"Boys, could you stop, please! I think we all get it. No one in this room is a virgin anymore, and that's perfectly fine. It would be fine too, though, if one of us was still a virgin. Ok? Please calm down, both of you."

Yuuji's gaze meets yours, and his golden eyes soften visibly.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll be nice."

His sunshine smile is back on his handsome face as his hand wanders from Sukuna's shoulder up to his jaw, cupping your devil's chin and tilting his head back, so the demon looks up at the angel standing behind the couch.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the scene before you. They look so beautiful together. Your angel and your devil. Light and dark, love and desire, heaven and hell.

The air becomes charged with tension. Sukuna and Yuuji are caught in their very own little dance. A game of power. You realize at that moment that dominance and submission aren't a defined line between them. Because as much as you feel that Sukuna is the dominant one, the one who takes, and Yuuji is the one who gives, you can't quite say who is in the lead here.

Your sweet angel seems to be able to deal with the shady devil pretty well. Which is a good thing, considering that they are here to help you make the best decisions.

You watch in fascination as the smirk on Sukuna's face turns into an amused smile as he stays in the same position, head tilted back, the angel's hand cupping his chin. And Yuuji leans down until his lips brush against the demon's ear.

"Doesn't it feel nice when someone touches you tenderly?"

His thumb brushes over Sukuna's lower lip, caressing it gently. And the angel breaths a soft kiss on the demon's ear.

"Don't you want to know what it's like when someone makes love to you instead of just letting you take them?"

By now, his hand has tilted Sukuna's face to the side, and Yuuji is leaning over him, closer and closer until his lips touch Sukuna's forehead in a slow, tender kiss.

Your devil laughs at that, and one of his hands darts up in lightspeed to wrap around the back of Yuuji's neck. His pointy black nails dig into the soft tan skin, holding the angel boy in place.

Sukuna's forked and tattooed tongue licks a wet trail over Yuuji's throat, flicking against his adam's apple teasingly and then further up over his chin and the corner of his lips. He stops when he reaches the angel's earlobe, which he takes lightly between his canines.

Like a cat that has your hand in its mouth, not yet biting but warning you to stop what you've been doing before it will be forced to hurt you.

He growls against Yuuji's skin:

"No thanks, angel brat. Making love sounds boring to me. I'd rather fuck you and our little human senseless."

His words make desire throb in your deepest core, and you think you hear a soft moan coming from Yuuji. But then the devil chuckles and lets go of the angel before adding:

"You better hurry up, brats. The little human has to be at work in half an hour, and as much as we hate that workplace, we always have to ensure to be there punctually, so the people in charge have nothing to use against us. The devil is an excellent businessman, my darling. So you better learn to listen to me."

Your devil sounds arrogant and commanding, but you think his voice has a softer tone now, and somehow you feel that your angel knows all too well how to handle his counterpart.

It makes you smile to yourself as you make your way to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before leaving for work. And today, you know that you have your personal angel and devil at your proposal anytime you need them. So maybe it will finally be a good day at work.

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my contribution to the Heaven and Hell collab! I had so much fun writing for the angel and devil theme! Yuuji is such a perfect (guardian) angel to me! I got so emotional and had so many butterflies while writing about him awww. And Sukuna is a very sexy devil who might be a bit softer for reader and Yuuji than he lets on at first :) He's from the seventh circle of hell, the circle of violence. I picked that because it suited Sukuna, in my opinion, and that circle has a blood river, which reminds me of Sukuna's domain.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please let me know your thoughts! Comments and reblogs make me very happy!

CHAPTER 2

---

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.” 

---

L would be a pretty good dad, granted he’d be too busy with his work to be around his kids often but I feel he’d do anything to keep them happy and safe💕💕

hey girl could i get L x pregnant wife reader? like they pregnant with his kid, i don't even want kids but i got hella baby fever 😭

babydoll of course!!! this it literally me when i’m like kids? in this economy? oh but their giggles and the shoes and awwwwwwww

Even though L knows the facts and has already done extensive research on pregnancy and things to do with it, this is one of the only times you can catch him re-doing it.

He’s searching up which chemicals balance your hormones, how quickly children’s feet grow, what natural supplements help with nausea. He knows a lot of the information that he gets provided but it feels nice to just be sure he’s doing it right.

He has no fucking idea what he’s doing. He’s scared that he’ll be a bad father, he’ll be a bad lover to you and that somehow, somewhere along the way, he’ll damage his kid.

So he’s double checking the labels on everything you eat, stacking pillows when you can’t massage you and always, always making sure you feel okay. He’s doing all he can right now to be the best he can be. The slightest twitch of your cheek or murmured groan and he’s dropping his work like it’s a overheated Hot Pocket and rushing over to you.

“Are your feet sore? Is your stomach feeling better? Did you drink the citrus herbal tea Watari left out for you?”

“Babe, babe! I’m fine, it’s just my back. This thing is getting heavy.” You laugh and tap your belly softly with your knuckles.

“Would you like a massage?”

You kiss both his cheeks then his lips. “Go back to work, I’m fine. Go save the world! We’ll be okay, I promise.” and with that, you waddle out of there in the fuzzy slippers he bought you, leaving a dopey grin on his face.

You’re completely unaware that you’re his world. His strong moral code and sense of justice and ego and all of that aside, you’re the most important thing to him and some billionaire getting burglarized could never matter as much as your comfort.

And even though he knows that the baby probably can’t hear him, he still talks to them all the time. His hands cradle your tummy, his eyes wide and watching for any sign of a kick as he recites poetry. He never says anything negative around you anymore because what if his baby can hear?

He speaks only of the goodness he fights for on the daily. He holds your belly and murmurs about love, laughter, good cake, dancing, sunshine, family, warm baths. He dotes on both of you, completely wrapped around your finger.

If it wasn’t obvious before you got pregnant, the amount of love he holds for you sure is now. He just needs you to be okay and happy because if you are, he is.

Sure, L is a busy guy and sometimes his work distanced him from his relationships but if he had to retire right now and hand over the L legacy to Near, he would do it in a heartbeat just to be with you and his lovely baby.