Life itself is never smooth sailing for everyone, sometimes, there are turmoils waiting for us. But, eventually, the sky will clear up and we will continue to move on. Nonetheless, all those philosophies are always made to sound encouraging. Well, when it comes from a certain individual’s mouth, you feel it just sounds like hypocrisy. Back to reality, as for you, you could say that you have found yourself in quite a predicament. Standing before the shared bed of the both of you, you can’t seem to see the neatly folded blanket anywhere. Just having finished your shower, feeling refreshed and sleepy, you want nothing more than to end the day with a good night's sleep. But, it seems like Fate has other plans, or in other way, Chrollo has. The man in the question is currently sitting on the bed, a phone in his hand as his fingers tapping on the screen. From the look of it, you can guess that it’s some business with the Troupe that he needs to resolve and whatever it is, it seems like a minor one since he leisurely set his phone down after noticing your eyes on him.
“Ah, you’re done, [First]. Should we get to bed now?”
He looks at you, voice spoken with care and delicacy. And when he sees you aren’t responding, he continues
“Is anything wrong, dearest?”
Yep, he’s definitely the reason for the disappearance of your blanket. And, he’s testing the waters. Stepping closer to your side of the bed, you face Chrollo as you speak
“Nothing. It’s just… I was wondering where the blanket has gone? I don’t remember calling room services earlier.”
It is an old habit of yours, something that Chrollo would be more than delighted to take advantage of. You always need something to hug when you sleep. A body pillow, a plushie, etc. You like the comfort it brings and it does help you wake up in the morning without aches in your body. You would rather die than to let Chrollo know about this. So, during the whole time you are with him, you always try to either sleep on the sofa (this has proved to be ineffective as Chrollo always makes sure you wake up on the same bed as him) or use the blanket as a makeshift pillow to wrap your arms around. And, it looks like today is finally the day Chrollo decided to deal with your little rebellion. You won’t let him win so easily, you are going to fight tooth and nail with him if you have to. He has squirmed his way into your life, carving out parts of you just to make space for himself. Your unwilling relationship (heavy emphasis on unwilling) had an abrupt start. Just one day, you woke up in the middle of the night, finding yourself on an unfamiliar bed and a stranger sitting on the chair beside you. His expression was one of pleasure and relief, a contradiction of the panic spiralling in your mind. If he ever noticed your mental state, he only placed his hand over yours, a gesture which helped little to calm you down.
“Hello, dearest. I have waited so long to finally meet you.”
.
.
At the start, he did bring some of the things from your old apartment. Then, the clothes you wear start to be replaced to match his taste, old trinkets get lost whenever you two need to move to a new country, etc. And now, he wants to be the source of your comfort during your sleep?! The thought alone makes your skin crawl.
“Oh, I called them. There was a stain so I told the employees to get them cleaned”
Of course, he did.
“So, did they bring a backup? I didn’t see one.”
“I told them not to. Yesterday, you told me that the weather here is too hot so I thought that a blanket isn’t necessary.”- Although he is a terrible listener whenever you beg him to let you go, he can be extremely good at memorizing things when it comes to you. One thing you have come to learn about Chrollo Lucilfer after all that time is that he is an adamant man.
“Uhm, the thing is... I kinda struggle to sleep without anything to hug… So, can I call them to get an extra pillow?”- Your voice came out softer than you hoped. Chrollo might be strict, but if you play your cards right, maybe you could still get what you want without crossing the lines he drew.
“I don’t think bothering the hotel’s staff at this late over a trivial matter is a good idea, love. Maybe you could call them later in the morning. For now, why don’t you go to bed?”
The gaze he sends you is enough to understand that that is non-negotiable. Pushing any further won’t get you anywhere good so you only sigh in defeat as you climb onto the bed. A hand snakes around your midriff and pulls you to his chest. His head rests on top of yours. His iron grip allows you no space to wiggle out of your position while you are fighting for your life to not just bite his arms. To add salt to your injury, Chrollo only laughs:
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you can sleep just as comfortably with me. They said sleeping with a loved one always helps you feel better. All you need to do is ask.”
The next morning, you will ask the staff for an extra pillow just to suffocate him.
It’s already common knowledge that life with Chrollo, post-kidnapping, can be tiresome. The constant traveling, the privileges that he makes you earn, etc. So, imagine a darling with motion sickness. While that would be hell for you, a certain thief seems to take joy in it even though he would never admit it out loud. It’s not that he thrives on your suffering or he’s a closeted sadist like you claimed during one of your outbursts (-it’s kinda true though…). But there’s something cute about the way your face would distort, your expression turns grim whenever he announced that you two would move to another country the next day and you need to start to pack up your things. And when you two finally board on whatever means of transport that Chrollo has picked out for the trip, even after taking the pills, he still could see the dread settle on your face- it’s the same kind of reaction whenever he catches you slipping the knife under the pillow. And when the vehicle starts to move, you would start to feel dizzy, your head aching and spinning at the same time while your stomach would churn with every five minutes. And when you are finally too drained to consider your pride, he would just silently offer you his shoulders and you would take that, leaning over it as you try your best to sleep. That’s why he always makes sure to book your seat right beside him, ain’t that considerate;) It’s a rare treat for him to indulge in- an arm wraps around your shoulder, a hand running up and down your back and lips pressing kisses on your temple. There are days when you have been extra difficult or when you let your mouth run a little wild, Chrollo would only give you that usual, gentlemanly smile of his. And during the next trip, you would find your motion sickness pills miraculously disappear, and Chrollo would suddenly announce that your 2-hour flight has been cancelled and you would have to take a 12-hour trip by train instead. His eyes would be full of satisfaction.
“Don’t worry, love. If you are too tired, you could always rest in my arms. After all, I’m anything but considerate of your health.”
Warnings: Mentions of murder, torture, etc. (Not directed to reader)
Word count: ~3.6k words
Pairing: Ronin Beaufort x Reader (Fluff)
Maybe you have gone crazy. No, to be more precise, you have already lost it the moment you accept the Devil’s invitation. You have read and seen too many stories about those who let their desires blind them to know what awaits someone like that at the end. No salvation, only damnation. The past you would sneer at yourself if she saw you like this. Or perhaps, you had always been this way since the start, your curiosity, the desperation for uncharted territory was always on the knife’s edge.
“You were looking for inspiration. So, I became your muse.”
The deity who answered your prayers was not something draped in a white cloak and halo above its head. He was a beautiful man with a sly tongue.
“I have granted you everything you wished for, haven't I? I’m your little wish fulfillment, baby.”
Musing at your own thoughts, you could not help but think how ironic it is, now that you find yourself at the end of the said knife. You should have felt worried, scared for your life even. You should have begged him not to kill you like his other victims, to not maul your corpse and take your aorta like he had promised. And yet, in that dark alley, at the mercy of the Devil himself, something bloomed in your chest. An ugly, indescribable emotion. Perhaps, that was a curse from him. After all, to have one’s deepest desire granted, they too, must give up something in return. Though, in your case, you can no longer tell whether these feelings in your heart were a curse or a blessing. Still, like a puppet free from its strings, your hand reached out and pulled him closer, until both of your lips touched. Kissing should be an intimate act between lovers, an expression of the love they have for each other, a share of warmth. A kiss shared between lovers is always tender, always loving. Except, you had already abandoned your rationality a long time ago. As if sensing your intention, Ronin slid his hand behind the back of your head, deepening the kiss. It was demanding, rough and consuming. A kiss in which nothing was shared, only both of you trying to take as much as possible, until there was nothing left of the other. His hand grasped your hair as you bit down on his lips, savoring the metallic taste. When you pulled away, in those pitch black irises, you could catch a glimpse of your reflection. Your hair was tousled, cheeks flushed while a shade of red painted your lips. Ronin didn’t say anything, he only wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing the red across your lips and gazed at you, like a painter admiring his greatest work. You, dyed in his blood, with an expression that only he could draw out from you.
Then, he laughed, hysterically and cackling. The blood on his hand along with the crowbar lying on the ground did nothing to ease the adrenaline in your veins, if not make it worse.
“You’re so pretty when you’re broken and mine. I think.. you are divine!”
Ronin purred, each word rolled off his tongue was sweet like candy. During the whole thing, his eyes never leave yours once, sparks of adoration in those pitch black eyes flew like the fireworks you had watched on a summer night, dazzling and mesmerizing. Still, behind those emotions, you could still detect a hint of expectation in him. But, what was he waiting for now that the story you had been writing almost came to the last page? Somehow, you had a feeling that you already knew the answer to that question. You wonder if this was what people saw when they were at the end of their run, when they finally got what they wanted and had to pay the price for their wishes. Desperation, despair and hopelessness should be tugging at your heartstrings. But, instead, a voice escaped from your throat, a whisper, a confession:
“If it were you that I am broken by, I think, it wouldn't be that bad. Then, would you mind it, my muse? To pull me down with you, to see the canvas I have painted for you.”
Maybe, Hell wasn’t that bad. Before your bold declaration, Ronin only stole one last gaze at you before chuckling:
“I would be glad to.”
.
.
.
The sound of the alarm wakes you up from your sleep. You sat up groggily in your bed, eyelids still heavy with sleep. Your mind still hasn’t completely recovered from the nostalgic dream that you just had. Damn, that was really one way to ask someone out. But that’s how you end up where you are now. At that moment, a certain magenta-head rises up beside you. Ronin speaks up, his words are slurred with a yawn:
“Up so soon? Shoulda sleep in a lil’ more.”
Looking at your lover while taking in the dream you had, you muse to yourself. Since that fateful day, you and Ronin have been a thing for a while now. When you first break the news to the server, you could barely contain your laughter. Sure, you and him fooled around quite a lot - mostly with him threatening to expose you while you were skating on thin ice. There was words of congrats, mostly from Vince and Feli; but there were also some disbelief
“NOOOO! My glorious queen [First] is taken, and it is by no one other than Ronin. You just drive a knife through my heart and twist it… Ronin, I hope both sides of your pillow are warm.” - Misaki exclaimed dramatically in the voice chat. She even faked sliding down to the floor and weeping just to show her shock before the news
“Well, [ First], if you ever want to complain about this guy, just come to me. Or I could just snipe him off for you, free of charge.”- Angel said teasingly.
During your time in the server, you also start to understand why Ronin cherishes it so much. Despite his teasing nature, Ronin has proven to be quite soft and caring, a side that you almost do not expect from him. The corner of your lips curled up while you step out of the bed:
“Thanks to a certain person sleeping with their legs and arms sprawled across my body, I couldn’t sleep that much.”
Ronin only smirked at your sarcastic tone:
“So that was you! No wonder my legs and arms ached, your body was as stiff as a log.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Now get your ass up, we got a whole day today. It’s my birthday and I don’t wanna waste any time.”
“What? Do you want to celebrate that you are one year closer to death?”- Ronin, still sitting on the bed, his eyes following you as you make your way to the bathroom.
“Nope. I’m celebrating the fact that my aorta is still pulsing inside my body.”
You answer without turning back to him. The hairbrush in your hand smoothly combs through your hair, detangling all the knots. As you carry on, a hand suddenly grabs the brush while another gently works on untying a particular knot that you are stuck on. Looking through the mirror, Ronin is standing behind you. His brows are burrowed as he brushes your hair. Neither of you say a word at that moment. His love has always been like that. Silent but abiding. It lingers in the way his arms wrap around you at night, in the way his expression seems to soften at the sight of you. Before falling, the Devil himself also used to be an angel. How beautiful it is, that even ripped off of his wings, he still holds such tenderness.
In the quiet atmosphere of the early morning, both of you have breakfast together. Toasts, along with some eggs and bacon. Ronin sits across from you, hand still holding a piece of toast:
“So, what are your plans for today, darlin’? Just tell em’ and consider it done.”
The kettle on the counter rumbles, causing you to stand up from your seat. Standing on tiptoe, you fish out two bags of cocoa and tea, along with two cups from the cupboard - the ones that Angel had gifted when you just moved in with Ronin.
“Not feeling like it. You’ll know when we get there.”- You reckon, placing the mug of tea in front of him while sipping on your cocoa. It is sweet, just like the way you prefer it.
“Surprise, huh? And I thought that is another way around. Is this your way of telling me you’re gonna lead me around on a leash all day? Not that I mind.”
You only scoff at his remark:
“Interpret it as you like. But we still need to hurry up.” -You continue sipping on your cocoa.
After finishing up, the two of you finally head out to enjoy the day. The whole day passes by with you dragging Ronin around just like he mentioned earlier.
To start with, the two of you have walked around the shopping mall. And, being unhinged as usual, Ronin stops at the kitchen tool isle and admires:
“That kitchen knife kinda reminds me of that one time I chopped some bastard’s body into pieces. A classic, heh! Still, it got the news to talk about it for the whole week.”
You are almost tempted by the idea of sewing his mouth shut, but you only side-eye him as he goes on:
“What with those eyes, darlin’? Oh, maybe one day, I will tell you about it. For your painting? If you beg me nicely enough.”
“Then please shut up before anyone hears it and decides to call the police.”
You tug on his arm, pulling him away before Ronin could recall any murders of his. After all that walking, you decide to stop at a cafe for brunch. You have ordered a bacon and cheese croissant while Ronin gets himself a sandwich. It is the weekend so by the time the two of you enter, the cafe is quite crowded. Sitting beside a window, both you and him quietly enjoy your orders. You have seen many sides of Ronin since the start of your relationship. And yet, somehow, the sight of him leisurely enjoying his food stirs up something in you, it makes you feel a sense of…domesticity? Amidst the bustling atmosphere of other customers, the one that others called ‘The Butcher’, the Devil himself seems not to be that different.
“What ya ogling at me for, darling? You know, if you wanna watch someone without getting caught, you should at least do it behind their back. Though I’m glad my criminality is finally rubbing off on you.” - Across the table, you can see Ronin’s smug face at your not-so-secret staring at him. That shit-eating grin of his always appears on his face every time you two are together, so much that you want to slap it (lovingly, of course).
“Wow, I don’t know that appreciating my boyfriend has become a crime. If so, then I must be sentenced to a lifetime in jail. But who to blame me for having such a wonderful, unholy - lover.”- You sigh dramatically as you feign a hand over your chest
“You sound desperate today. For a self-proclaimed artist, you really have a knack for painting over your words to make them more tempting, don’t ‘ya?”- Ronin’s face probes on his hand, head slightly tilting as he looks at you.
.
.
Amidst all that jokes and cruelty, there still lies vulnerability. He has mentioned it once or twice, in the silence of the night -a name- he whispered it, only enough for you to hear, like a prayer, but to whom it might be heard? Sometimes, when he was boasting to you about how he bashed the skull of a fanatic priest to pieces, he would linger. You didn’t push, instead, you urged him to continue with it. About who Ronin was before he decided to become The Butcher, you only get a glimpse of which during a game of Truth and Dare between the both of you. And, through those scattered pieces, you know that his past is not something that people would look back fondly on. Nonetheless, a part of you still wishes to learn more about him. Because looking back means to never see the light ahead, only a shadow cast upon a trodden path.
.
.
The rest of the date goes on uneventfully with you and him going to a few more places like the old bookstore that you love and the convenient store in the same building at your apartment to buy some groceries. At one point, Ronin has intertwined his hand with yours - a habit of his whenever the two of you go out - as you walk home. When the sun finally sets and the starry veil of the night is cast upon your city, after a somewhat romantic dinner, you were half expecting that he might pull out some grotesque shits just to mess with you but Ronin just ordered some take-outs, the both of you were on your laptop, celebrating your birthday with the rest of the Slaughterhouse server.
"Yeah! Happy birthday to our enigma, [First]! May you have a bountiful year of killings as well.” - Come Misaki's piping voice from the voice chat. For your birthday, she has personally drawn you a portrait with words of gratitude written onto it (along with a doodle of a certain magenta gremlin at the left corner of the picture). At first, she offered to kill off someone you choose and make an art piece out of them, but you quickly shot down the idea.
"Despite your current situationship with The Butcher - whom I clearly don't understand why you are in a relationship with, you still make a fine partner-in-crime for me in Mafia. So, I wish that you celebrate this day with joy and happiness.”- V, despite your surprise, sends you words of congratulations. To top it off, he also gifted you a set of comfy pajamas. He is really a sweet guy, isn’t he?
“Wow, didn’t take the cold-hearted Vigilante to be the sentimental type. Though, on my lover’s behalf, thank you for your gift. I really have a good night sleep in it. You have the Devil’s gratitude.”- Ronin says as his arm drapes over your shoulder, his cheek leans on your head.
Clearly annoyed by his interruption, V’s eyebrows twitching: “That is NOT for you, Ronin. It’s for-”
“Come on! Can you two stop trying to bite each other’s throat for one day? Save the bloodshed for another day. It’s [First]’s birthday!” - Angel’s exasperated voice quickly diffuses the situation before it has the chance to accelerate.
“I know it’s a little bit late, but I want to wish you a happy birthday, [First]. Since your first day joining the server, you have been a great friend to all of us and me, specifically. And, I hope it can continue this way in the next year and the following year.” - Angel has always been caring and supportive of you. Hearing this, you can really feel your eyes tearing up a bit. For your birthday, Angel actually gives you a CD with all your favourite songs in it, even songs that you don’t remember telling her.
The celebration goes on with Luca and Feli congratulating you. While Feli expresses her gratitude for that time when you set the both of them together, Luca recounts all that time that you gave him advice and promises that one day he will go surfing with you (without accidentally killing you, of course). On top of that, Ai Hua also bakes you a cake with her homemade poison or so as she claims… (Maybe you will have Ronin to taste-test it for you before you eat it). Vince even sends you a picture of the sunset that he took himself and that is not without an addition of someone hanged upside down while bleeding out to death. Well, he isn’t called the Sunset Slasher for nothing. After a round of exchanging words of appreciation, Misaki quickly ropes everyone into a game of Mafia. Imagine your shock when Vince turns out to be the Mafia and he has successfully killed everyone (Luca was also a mafia but he was soon discovered in the first round).
Damn, you really are loved in this server, aren’t you?
.
.
In the late night, after everyone in the server wishes you a happy birthday again and logs off, it is just you and Ronin left. Staring at the server on your screen, you muse:
“You know? This kinda reminds me of when I first joined the server. Everyone was just as welcoming as they are now. At first, I kinda thought you scammed me into joining a server full of edgy teenagers. Especially with your whole ‘I’m the Devil’ thing.”
“What can I say? That’s my bit. But still, you stay. And I wonder what would make ya?”
“An successful artist whose work about serial killers became a renowned piece of art? ”
Ronin’s eyes widen before he fully goes on laughing while clutching his stomach. To make this more dramatically, he even rolls on the floor for a few minutes for good measure:
“Bwhahahaha! I didn’t know that artists could be so full of themselves like that. Then I guess I was ya little wish fulfillment, right? I knew a desperate soul when I saw your post on the Internet.”
“Yeah, you did say that on our first meeting, or when you threatened to kill me during our first video call and also during that time in the alley. The Devil is really good with his temptation, huh?”- A hand slowly rests on his face as you turn to face him, your thighs straddling his. Meanwhile, Ronin only smirks at your words. Smiling softly at him, you continue on.
“Thank you, for everything. It's ironic how someone who used to take others’ lives like you could breathe life into my work. Also, I still stand by what I said on that day in the alley. I will always stay with you, to heaven and back. Not out of obsession, not out of depravity. But because loving you means seeing you in every stroke of the brush I hold, to see blots of that shade of magenta every time I paint. So, my greatest act of love to you is to hold on to the pieces you left behind to keep you.”
The last part is almost like a whisper, carried by the silence of the night, only loud enough for him to hear. In the dark room, you slowly trace circles on his jawline with your fingers while your free hand holds his face, taking into what little features of Ronin’s highlighted by the lamp on the counter. You don’t know when his arms have shifted from their original position to curl around your waist, quietly pulling you in. He doesn’t comment on anything, he doesn't even move an inch from you. Maybe it is a trick of the light, but, across his pale cheeks, you can see a hint of pink.
Taking your time, you move your face closer to Ronin’s. Your lips hover only for a second before they descend. Suddenly, everything moves back to that alley with you and Ronin. Except for the fact that this time, the kiss shared between the both of you is not one act of impulse, instead, it is tender, loving and sweet. Before you could pull back, a rough hand entangles your hair, deepening the kiss. Then, you slowly pull back, black eyes gaze into yours and you swear you almost fall in love with him all over again. They say “To be loved means to be seen” and in those moments of vulnerability, Ronin’s voice rings in your ears:
“I see you.”
Three simple words but that is more than enough for you. Then, from his pockets, Ronin fishes out a black box, decorated with a magenta ribbon on top.
“Yeah, almost forgot this. Here.”
Taking the gift from his hand, you carefully inspect it:
“Should I expect someone's heart or organs here?”
Ronin only shrugs his shoulders as you pull the ribbon, eyes taking in your reaction. Instead of the grotesque surprise that Ronin always promises you, you see… a paint brush and a jar of blood? Holding the brush in your hand, the smooth and lightness of which feel unusually odd to you. Then, a theory forms in your head:
“Ronin, did you make this brush for me?”
“Bingo, baby! Got it from a museum director, though I didn’t get the chance to try out the whole ‘making arts from your victim’ like Misaki. Didn’t want to accidentally break the bones.”
Ronin is grinning from ear to ear as you imagine the scene where he sharpens the bone into the brush for you. When your eyes travel to the jar of blood, Ronin explains:
“Well, what is a painter without their sparks of colours? So, your beloved has come up with a brilliant idea. Organically harvested, of course.”
There is a pause, then, with a gentler voice, he whispers to you:
“So you can remember me a little whenever you draw.”
“I don’t think I would ever be able to shake you off. You ARE my shoulder devil.”- A laugh escapes your mouth before you are pulled into another kiss by Ronin. And when you pull back, Ronin grins with a glint in his eyes:
Warnings: Mentions of murder, torture, etc. (Not directed to reader)
Word count: ~3.6k words
Pairing: Ronin Beaufort x Reader (Fluff)
Maybe you have gone crazy. No, to be more precise, you have already lost it the moment you accept the Devil’s invitation. You have read and seen too many stories about those who let their desires blind them to know what awaits someone like that at the end. No salvation, only damnation. The past you would sneer at yourself if she saw you like this. Or perhaps, you had always been this way since the start, your curiosity, the desperation for uncharted territory was always on the knife’s edge.
“You were looking for inspiration. So, I became your muse.”
The deity who answered your prayers was not something draped in a white cloak and halo above its head. He was a beautiful man with a sly tongue.
“I have granted you everything you wished for, haven't I? I’m your little wish fulfillment, baby.”
Musing at your own thoughts, you could not help but think how ironic it is, now that you find yourself at the end of the said knife. You should have felt worried, scared for your life even. You should have begged him not to kill you like his other victims, to not maul your corpse and take your aorta like he had promised. And yet, in that dark alley, at the mercy of the Devil himself, something bloomed in your chest. An ugly, indescribable emotion. Perhaps, that was a curse from him. After all, to have one’s deepest desire granted, they too, must give up something in return. Though, in your case, you can no longer tell whether these feelings in your heart were a curse or a blessing. Still, like a puppet free from its strings, your hand reached out and pulled him closer, until both of your lips touched. Kissing should be an intimate act between lovers, an expression of the love they have for each other, a share of warmth. A kiss shared between lovers is always tender, always loving. Except, you had already abandoned your rationality a long time ago. As if sensing your intention, Ronin slid his hand behind the back of your head, deepening the kiss. It was demanding, rough and consuming. A kiss in which nothing was shared, only both of you trying to take as much as possible, until there was nothing left of the other. His hand grasped your hair as you bit down on his lips, savoring the metallic taste. When you pulled away, in those pitch black irises, you could catch a glimpse of your reflection. Your hair was tousled, cheeks flushed while a shade of red painted your lips. Ronin didn’t say anything, he only wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing the red across your lips and gazed at you, like a painter admiring his greatest work. You, dyed in his blood, with an expression that only he could draw out from you.
Then, he laughed, hysterically and cackling. The blood on his hand along with the crowbar lying on the ground did nothing to ease the adrenaline in your veins, if not make it worse.
“You’re so pretty when you’re broken and mine. I think.. you are divine!”
Ronin purred, each word rolled off his tongue was sweet like candy. During the whole thing, his eyes never leave yours once, sparks of adoration in those pitch black eyes flew like the fireworks you had watched on a summer night, dazzling and mesmerizing. Still, behind those emotions, you could still detect a hint of expectation in him. But, what was he waiting for now that the story you had been writing almost came to the last page? Somehow, you had a feeling that you already knew the answer to that question. You wonder if this was what people saw when they were at the end of their run, when they finally got what they wanted and had to pay the price for their wishes. Desperation, despair and hopelessness should be tugging at your heartstrings. But, instead, a voice escaped from your throat, a whisper, a confession:
“If it were you that I am broken by, I think, it wouldn't be that bad. Then, would you mind it, my muse? To pull me down with you, to see the canvas I have painted for you.”
Maybe, Hell wasn’t that bad. Before your bold declaration, Ronin only stole one last gaze at you before chuckling:
“I would be glad to.”
.
.
.
The sound of the alarm wakes you up from your sleep. You sat up groggily in your bed, eyelids still heavy with sleep. Your mind still hasn’t completely recovered from the nostalgic dream that you just had. Damn, that was really one way to ask someone out. But that’s how you end up where you are now. At that moment, a certain magenta-head rises up beside you. Ronin speaks up, his words are slurred with a yawn:
“Up so soon? Shoulda sleep in a lil’ more.”
Looking at your lover while taking in the dream you had, you muse to yourself. Since that fateful day, you and Ronin have been a thing for a while now. When you first break the news to the server, you could barely contain your laughter. Sure, you and him fooled around quite a lot - mostly with him threatening to expose you while you were skating on thin ice. There was words of congrats, mostly from Vince and Feli; but there were also some disbelief
“NOOOO! My glorious queen [First] is taken, and it is by no one other than Ronin. You just drive a knife through my heart and twist it… Ronin, I hope both sides of your pillow are warm.” - Misaki exclaimed dramatically in the voice chat. She even faked sliding down to the floor and weeping just to show her shock before the news
“Well, [ First], if you ever want to complain about this guy, just come to me. Or I could just snipe him off for you, free of charge.”- Angel said teasingly.
During your time in the server, you also start to understand why Ronin cherishes it so much. Despite his teasing nature, Ronin has proven to be quite soft and caring, a side that you almost do not expect from him. The corner of your lips curled up while you step out of the bed:
“Thanks to a certain person sleeping with their legs and arms sprawled across my body, I couldn’t sleep that much.”
Ronin only smirked at your sarcastic tone:
“So that was you! No wonder my legs and arms ached, your body was as stiff as a log.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Now get your ass up, we got a whole day today. It’s my birthday and I don’t wanna waste any time.”
“What? Do you want to celebrate that you are one year closer to death?”- Ronin, still sitting on the bed, his eyes following you as you make your way to the bathroom.
“Nope. I’m celebrating the fact that my aorta is still pulsing inside my body.”
You answer without turning back to him. The hairbrush in your hand smoothly combs through your hair, detangling all the knots. As you carry on, a hand suddenly grabs the brush while another gently works on untying a particular knot that you are stuck on. Looking through the mirror, Ronin is standing behind you. His brows are burrowed as he brushes your hair. Neither of you say a word at that moment. His love has always been like that. Silent but abiding. It lingers in the way his arms wrap around you at night, in the way his expression seems to soften at the sight of you. Before falling, the Devil himself also used to be an angel. How beautiful it is, that even ripped off of his wings, he still holds such tenderness.
In the quiet atmosphere of the early morning, both of you have breakfast together. Toasts, along with some eggs and bacon. Ronin sits across from you, hand still holding a piece of toast:
“So, what are your plans for today, darlin’? Just tell em’ and consider it done.”
The kettle on the counter rumbles, causing you to stand up from your seat. Standing on tiptoe, you fish out two bags of cocoa and tea, along with two cups from the cupboard - the ones that Angel had gifted when you just moved in with Ronin.
“Not feeling like it. You’ll know when we get there.”- You reckon, placing the mug of tea in front of him while sipping on your cocoa. It is sweet, just like the way you prefer it.
“Surprise, huh? And I thought that is another way around. Is this your way of telling me you’re gonna lead me around on a leash all day? Not that I mind.”
You only scoff at his remark:
“Interpret it as you like. But we still need to hurry up.” -You continue sipping on your cocoa.
After finishing up, the two of you finally head out to enjoy the day. The whole day passes by with you dragging Ronin around just like he mentioned earlier.
To start with, the two of you have walked around the shopping mall. And, being unhinged as usual, Ronin stops at the kitchen tool isle and admires:
“That kitchen knife kinda reminds me of that one time I chopped some bastard’s body into pieces. A classic, heh! Still, it got the news to talk about it for the whole week.”
You are almost tempted by the idea of sewing his mouth shut, but you only side-eye him as he goes on:
“What with those eyes, darlin’? Oh, maybe one day, I will tell you about it. For your painting? If you beg me nicely enough.”
“Then please shut up before anyone hears it and decides to call the police.”
You tug on his arm, pulling him away before Ronin could recall any murders of his. After all that walking, you decide to stop at a cafe for brunch. You have ordered a bacon and cheese croissant while Ronin gets himself a sandwich. It is the weekend so by the time the two of you enter, the cafe is quite crowded. Sitting beside a window, both you and him quietly enjoy your orders. You have seen many sides of Ronin since the start of your relationship. And yet, somehow, the sight of him leisurely enjoying his food stirs up something in you, it makes you feel a sense of…domesticity? Amidst the bustling atmosphere of other customers, the one that others called ‘The Butcher’, the Devil himself seems not to be that different.
“What ya ogling at me for, darling? You know, if you wanna watch someone without getting caught, you should at least do it behind their back. Though I’m glad my criminality is finally rubbing off on you.” - Across the table, you can see Ronin’s smug face at your not-so-secret staring at him. That shit-eating grin of his always appears on his face every time you two are together, so much that you want to slap it (lovingly, of course).
“Wow, I don’t know that appreciating my boyfriend has become a crime. If so, then I must be sentenced to a lifetime in jail. But who to blame me for having such a wonderful, unholy - lover.”- You sigh dramatically as you feign a hand over your chest
“You sound desperate today. For a self-proclaimed artist, you really have a knack for painting over your words to make them more tempting, don’t ‘ya?”- Ronin’s face probes on his hand, head slightly tilting as he looks at you.
.
.
Amidst all that jokes and cruelty, there still lies vulnerability. He has mentioned it once or twice, in the silence of the night -a name- he whispered it, only enough for you to hear, like a prayer, but to whom it might be heard? Sometimes, when he was boasting to you about how he bashed the skull of a fanatic priest to pieces, he would linger. You didn’t push, instead, you urged him to continue with it. About who Ronin was before he decided to become The Butcher, you only get a glimpse of which during a game of Truth and Dare between the both of you. And, through those scattered pieces, you know that his past is not something that people would look back fondly on. Nonetheless, a part of you still wishes to learn more about him. Because looking back means to never see the light ahead, only a shadow cast upon a trodden path.
.
.
The rest of the date goes on uneventfully with you and him going to a few more places like the old bookstore that you love and the convenient store in the same building at your apartment to buy some groceries. At one point, Ronin has intertwined his hand with yours - a habit of his whenever the two of you go out - as you walk home. When the sun finally sets and the starry veil of the night is cast upon your city, after a somewhat romantic dinner, you were half expecting that he might pull out some grotesque shits just to mess with you but Ronin just ordered some take-outs, the both of you were on your laptop, celebrating your birthday with the rest of the Slaughterhouse server.
"Yeah! Happy birthday to our enigma, [First]! May you have a bountiful year of killings as well.” - Come Misaki's piping voice from the voice chat. For your birthday, she has personally drawn you a portrait with words of gratitude written onto it (along with a doodle of a certain magenta gremlin at the left corner of the picture). At first, she offered to kill off someone you choose and make an art piece out of them, but you quickly shot down the idea.
"Despite your current situationship with The Butcher - whom I clearly don't understand why you are in a relationship with, you still make a fine partner-in-crime for me in Mafia. So, I wish that you celebrate this day with joy and happiness.”- V, despite your surprise, sends you words of congratulations. To top it off, he also gifted you a set of comfy pajamas. He is really a sweet guy, isn’t he?
“Wow, didn’t take the cold-hearted Vigilante to be the sentimental type. Though, on my lover’s behalf, thank you for your gift. I really have a good night sleep in it. You have the Devil’s gratitude.”- Ronin says as his arm drapes over your shoulder, his cheek leans on your head.
Clearly annoyed by his interruption, V’s eyebrows twitching: “That is NOT for you, Ronin. It’s for-”
“Come on! Can you two stop trying to bite each other’s throat for one day? Save the bloodshed for another day. It’s [First]’s birthday!” - Angel’s exasperated voice quickly diffuses the situation before it has the chance to accelerate.
“I know it’s a little bit late, but I want to wish you a happy birthday, [First]. Since your first day joining the server, you have been a great friend to all of us and me, specifically. And, I hope it can continue this way in the next year and the following year.” - Angel has always been caring and supportive of you. Hearing this, you can really feel your eyes tearing up a bit. For your birthday, Angel actually gives you a CD with all your favourite songs in it, even songs that you don’t remember telling her.
The celebration goes on with Luca and Feli congratulating you. While Feli expresses her gratitude for that time when you set the both of them together, Luca recounts all that time that you gave him advice and promises that one day he will go surfing with you (without accidentally killing you, of course). On top of that, Ai Hua also bakes you a cake with her homemade poison or so as she claims… (Maybe you will have Ronin to taste-test it for you before you eat it). Vince even sends you a picture of the sunset that he took himself and that is not without an addition of someone hanged upside down while bleeding out to death. Well, he isn’t called the Sunset Slasher for nothing. After a round of exchanging words of appreciation, Misaki quickly ropes everyone into a game of Mafia. Imagine your shock when Vince turns out to be the Mafia and he has successfully killed everyone (Luca was also a mafia but he was soon discovered in the first round).
Damn, you really are loved in this server, aren’t you?
.
.
In the late night, after everyone in the server wishes you a happy birthday again and logs off, it is just you and Ronin left. Staring at the server on your screen, you muse:
“You know? This kinda reminds me of when I first joined the server. Everyone was just as welcoming as they are now. At first, I kinda thought you scammed me into joining a server full of edgy teenagers. Especially with your whole ‘I’m the Devil’ thing.”
“What can I say? That’s my bit. But still, you stay. And I wonder what would make ya?”
“An successful artist whose work about serial killers became a renowned piece of art? ”
Ronin’s eyes widen before he fully goes on laughing while clutching his stomach. To make this more dramatically, he even rolls on the floor for a few minutes for good measure:
“Bwhahahaha! I didn’t know that artists could be so full of themselves like that. Then I guess I was ya little wish fulfillment, right? I knew a desperate soul when I saw your post on the Internet.”
“Yeah, you did say that on our first meeting, or when you threatened to kill me during our first video call and also during that time in the alley. The Devil is really good with his temptation, huh?”- A hand slowly rests on his face as you turn to face him, your thighs straddling his. Meanwhile, Ronin only smirks at your words. Smiling softly at him, you continue on.
“Thank you, for everything. It's ironic how someone who used to take others’ lives like you could breathe life into my work. Also, I still stand by what I said on that day in the alley. I will always stay with you, to heaven and back. Not out of obsession, not out of depravity. But because loving you means seeing you in every stroke of the brush I hold, to see blots of that shade of magenta every time I paint. So, my greatest act of love to you is to hold on to the pieces you left behind to keep you.”
The last part is almost like a whisper, carried by the silence of the night, only loud enough for him to hear. In the dark room, you slowly trace circles on his jawline with your fingers while your free hand holds his face, taking into what little features of Ronin’s highlighted by the lamp on the counter. You don’t know when his arms have shifted from their original position to curl around your waist, quietly pulling you in. He doesn’t comment on anything, he doesn't even move an inch from you. Maybe it is a trick of the light, but, across his pale cheeks, you can see a hint of pink.
Taking your time, you move your face closer to Ronin’s. Your lips hover only for a second before they descend. Suddenly, everything moves back to that alley with you and Ronin. Except for the fact that this time, the kiss shared between the both of you is not one act of impulse, instead, it is tender, loving and sweet. Before you could pull back, a rough hand entangles your hair, deepening the kiss. Then, you slowly pull back, black eyes gaze into yours and you swear you almost fall in love with him all over again. They say “To be loved means to be seen” and in those moments of vulnerability, Ronin’s voice rings in your ears:
“I see you.”
Three simple words but that is more than enough for you. Then, from his pockets, Ronin fishes out a black box, decorated with a magenta ribbon on top.
“Yeah, almost forgot this. Here.”
Taking the gift from his hand, you carefully inspect it:
“Should I expect someone's heart or organs here?”
Ronin only shrugs his shoulders as you pull the ribbon, eyes taking in your reaction. Instead of the grotesque surprise that Ronin always promises you, you see… a paint brush and a jar of blood? Holding the brush in your hand, the smooth and lightness of which feel unusually odd to you. Then, a theory forms in your head:
“Ronin, did you make this brush for me?”
“Bingo, baby! Got it from a museum director, though I didn’t get the chance to try out the whole ‘making arts from your victim’ like Misaki. Didn’t want to accidentally break the bones.”
Ronin is grinning from ear to ear as you imagine the scene where he sharpens the bone into the brush for you. When your eyes travel to the jar of blood, Ronin explains:
“Well, what is a painter without their sparks of colours? So, your beloved has come up with a brilliant idea. Organically harvested, of course.”
There is a pause, then, with a gentler voice, he whispers to you:
“So you can remember me a little whenever you draw.”
“I don’t think I would ever be able to shake you off. You ARE my shoulder devil.”- A laugh escapes your mouth before you are pulled into another kiss by Ronin. And when you pull back, Ronin grins with a glint in his eyes:
Warnings: Yuri, OOC, Mentions of Till (platonic), Hurt/ No comfort, etc.
Word counts: 1,3k words.
Amidst the smoke and ashes, Mizi wakes up. Nothing meets those chartreuse eyes but miles of sand, devoid of any life. She wants to scream but her once beautiful voice has been reduced to inhumane chokes. She wants to get up but her skin feels like it is falling down. . For a moment, Mizi thought she was dead and this was hell. Maybe this is her punishment, a punishment for a selfish love. She loved and in return, she had cursed those who had wronged that love. And now, like a whale washed ashore, she has to spend eternity watching the waves lapping at the sand but to never return to it. And yet, on the brink of Mizi’s slipping consciousness, a shadow appears. Its arms gently wrap around her burns, an invisible form weighs down on her own but Mizi does not feel heavy, rather it feels gentle, soothing, like a nameless lullaby. Hell is supposed to be where one suffers, where light and hope cannot reach. So why, why is “she” here? Her smile is still so soft, her face looks so serene. She doesn’t speak, she only looks, lilac eyes gazed into her own.
Sua
A name rests in the Witch’s tongue, but she doesn’t dare to mutter it. For she knows, it would mean that this sweet illusion will end. This isn’t hell, nor the one embracing Mizi right now is her beloved. This heart of hers, though had broken long ago, is still beating inside her chest with scattered bits left of it. Lying amidst the sea of sand, the sun bears down on Mizi while the hot sand below scrubs into her burns, making the pain worse. Then, the figure slowly lets go of its arm before vanishing into thin air, leaving Mizi behind.
With burns blossoming all over her body, her vocal cord bleeding, her mind begins to play back old memories, one by one, when she was still a small jellyfish swimming in the vast sea. The sea was cold, but it was soothing, with waves gently embracing her and voices about “Our precious Mizi” consoling her. When Mizi finally left the sea, in the garden, was where she met Sua. Suddenly, the whole universe seems to rest in those eyes. At that very moment, a seed had been planted inside Mizi’s heart. And it had slowly grown during her day in Anakt Garden. But, to love in this cruel world is the worst fate that one could have. Mizi’s fate was doomed from the start, from the moment she met Sua, from the moment she learned to love others. That seed, nurtured by love and hope, had flourished beautifully. Even if the cruel world doesn't allow such feelings to bloom, it was hers and Sua’s and that was enough. Or maybe it never was… On that stage, the flower that Mizi and Sua had grown wilted the same way it bloomed - marvelously tragic. Under the sparking lights, Sua’s life slowly faded away while the cheers from the crowd erupted. Mizi couldn’t do anything but stared as the red dyed her snow-white dress…
No!
It wasn’t that she couldn’t do anything, rather, it was Mizi had chosen not to. She had known what was waiting for them; she knew what was going on behind those lilac eyes every time they talked about Alien Stage. And yet, Mizi had chosen ignorance. And now, Sua and others have to pay for her lies. There is truly no one more cunning than Mizi. The Witch has cursed every single one that loves her and those she loves until there is no one left beside her. But still, in the end, she still chose the love that she once had and lost. And, for that, it has become the karma for them, who have trampled on humans’ feelings and taken joy in it, and also, her own. Mizi has thought that, perhaps, was the best ending for her, for Sua, for her family in Anakt Garden, for those who were victims of this system. Humans were never meant to be alone, so we always seek each other’s presence; to feel their warmth, to feel our hearts sync with each other. That’s why we love, even in this brutal world, we still manage to love. And yet, that love becomes our doom. Maybe, the aliens have realized this, so that’s why they take joy in our suffering, laughing at the stupidity of humans. Therefore, they reap what they have sowed. The rocket fell down, bringing with it the hopes of the rebellion. The fire swallowed up everything, laughter turned to screams, this time, the aliens were the ones who suffered while humans sat back and enjoyed their downfall. They received their karma and Mizi was ready to receive hers. She waited, waited for the flame to engulf her and Till, for the end of a love died before it even had a chance to bloom…
Just then, a heartbeat, faint but it was there, and it was enough to ignite something that had gone cold in Mizi’s heart. How laughable it was, she, who had lost all hope about humanity now clinging to a flickering hope like it was her lifeline. And that hope had enabled her to reach out once again. Clutching at the hem of Isaac’s jacket, Mizi didn’t say anything but she only gazed at the body growing cold of Till, of the only family member left of Mizi. She had taken away their hope so, in return, she had given them her hope. Mizi only looked at the backs of Issac as they carried Till outside. Her heart still ached but somehow, the pain felt a little more bearable.
Turning back to the present where the scorching hot of the sun still boars down on her, Mizi tries to drag herself up. This is Mizi’s karma. To forever live astray, belonging to nowhere with no one by her sides. But maybe, the greatest tragedy of Mizi’s fate was to live with the ghost of her love until the end of her life. Mizi would only be able to see Sua through her memories and everytime Mizi breaks down, Sua would appear at the corner of her eyes, gently lifting her up again. She can’t help but wonder if Sua had anticipated. Does, on those nights, when practicing her own death, Sua knew all this would happen? At the backstage, when both of them fighted, what was Sua thinking when she looked at Mizi, eyes wavering while shaky hands covered Mizi’s mouth?
“ Please, just let this lie continue. Because, if it doesn’t, then I wouldn’t know what to do anymore.”
On that stage, Sua had performed so dazzlingly, sweats were trickling down her neck. Then, she turned to Mizi, unbothered to look at the score board above but neither did Mizi because all the attention was on the one before her. And, Sua smiled, one so bright and warm, just before a ruthless bullet hit her neck. Red blood spilling out, some got on Mizi's face as her beloved collapsed, bringing all her love with her. Knowing Sua’s plan, Mizi still continued to love her selfishly. As a result, she has to live on, to carry Sua’s love in her barren heart. Despite the pain in her body begging her not to, Mizi slowly drags her body up. Her eyes, now devoid of spark and joy, stare aimlessly into somewhere beyond the sand, as if she was thinking about something.
And, with that, the Witch disappeares into the unknown.
.
.
As years pass, the pain also starts to fade. Nonetheless, among the rebellion and the alien, a story is whispered between each other. A tragedy about a foolish girl who blindly believes that she can make love bloom in this brutal world. And in the end, she couldn’t do anything but to live with the burns of that love until the end of her life.
Warnings: Yuri, OOC, Mentions of Till (platonic), Hurt/ No comfort, etc.
Word counts: 1,3k words.
Amidst the smoke and ashes, Mizi wakes up. Nothing meets those chartreuse eyes but miles of sand, devoid of any life. She wants to scream but her once beautiful voice has been reduced to inhumane chokes. She wants to get up but her skin feels like it is falling down. . For a moment, Mizi thought she was dead and this was hell. Maybe this is her punishment, a punishment for a selfish love. She loved and in return, she had cursed those who had wronged that love. And now, like a whale washed ashore, she has to spend eternity watching the waves lapping at the sand but to never return to it. And yet, on the brink of Mizi’s slipping consciousness, a shadow appears. Its arms gently wrap around her burns, an invisible form weighs down on her own but Mizi does not feel heavy, rather it feels gentle, soothing, like a nameless lullaby. Hell is supposed to be where one suffers, where light and hope cannot reach. So why, why is “she” here? Her smile is still so soft, her face looks so serene. She doesn’t speak, she only looks, lilac eyes gazed into her own.
Sua
A name rests in the Witch’s tongue, but she doesn’t dare to mutter it. For she knows, it would mean that this sweet illusion will end. This isn’t hell, nor the one embracing Mizi right now is her beloved. This heart of hers, though had broken long ago, is still beating inside her chest with scattered bits left of it. Lying amidst the sea of sand, the sun bears down on Mizi while the hot sand below scrubs into her burns, making the pain worse. Then, the figure slowly lets go of its arm before vanishing into thin air, leaving Mizi behind.
With burns blossoming all over her body, her vocal cord bleeding, her mind begins to play back old memories, one by one, when she was still a small jellyfish swimming in the vast sea. The sea was cold, but it was soothing, with waves gently embracing her and voices about “Our precious Mizi” consoling her. When Mizi finally left the sea, in the garden, was where she met Sua. Suddenly, the whole universe seems to rest in those eyes. At that very moment, a seed had been planted inside Mizi’s heart. And it had slowly grown during her day in Anakt Garden. But, to love in this cruel world is the worst fate that one could have. Mizi’s fate was doomed from the start, from the moment she met Sua, from the moment she learned to love others. That seed, nurtured by love and hope, had flourished beautifully. Even if the cruel world doesn't allow such feelings to bloom, it was hers and Sua’s and that was enough. Or maybe it never was… On that stage, the flower that Mizi and Sua had grown wilted the same way it bloomed - marvelously tragic. Under the sparking lights, Sua’s life slowly faded away while the cheers from the crowd erupted. Mizi couldn’t do anything but stared as the red dyed her snow-white dress…
No!
It wasn’t that she couldn’t do anything, rather, it was Mizi had chosen not to. She had known what was waiting for them; she knew what was going on behind those lilac eyes every time they talked about Alien Stage. And yet, Mizi had chosen ignorance. And now, Sua and others have to pay for her lies. There is truly no one more cunning than Mizi. The Witch has cursed every single one that loves her and those she loves until there is no one left beside her. But still, in the end, she still chose the love that she once had and lost. And, for that, it has become the karma for them, who have trampled on humans’ feelings and taken joy in it, and also, her own. Mizi has thought that, perhaps, was the best ending for her, for Sua, for her family in Anakt Garden, for those who were victims of this system. Humans were never meant to be alone, so we always seek each other’s presence; to feel their warmth, to feel our hearts sync with each other. That’s why we love, even in this brutal world, we still manage to love. And yet, that love becomes our doom. Maybe, the aliens have realized this, so that’s why they take joy in our suffering, laughing at the stupidity of humans. Therefore, they reap what they have sowed. The rocket fell down, bringing with it the hopes of the rebellion. The fire swallowed up everything, laughter turned to screams, this time, the aliens were the ones who suffered while humans sat back and enjoyed their downfall. They received their karma and Mizi was ready to receive hers. She waited, waited for the flame to engulf her and Till, for the end of a love died before it even had a chance to bloom…
Just then, a heartbeat, faint but it was there, and it was enough to ignite something that had gone cold in Mizi’s heart. How laughable it was, she, who had lost all hope about humanity now clinging to a flickering hope like it was her lifeline. And that hope had enabled her to reach out once again. Clutching at the hem of Isaac’s jacket, Mizi didn’t say anything but she only gazed at the body growing cold of Till, of the only family member left of Mizi. She had taken away their hope so, in return, she had given them her hope. Mizi only looked at the backs of Issac as they carried Till outside. Her heart still ached but somehow, the pain felt a little more bearable.
Turning back to the present where the scorching hot of the sun still boars down on her, Mizi tries to drag herself up. This is Mizi’s karma. To forever live astray, belonging to nowhere with no one by her sides. But maybe, the greatest tragedy of Mizi’s fate was to live with the ghost of her love until the end of her life. Mizi would only be able to see Sua through her memories and everytime Mizi breaks down, Sua would appear at the corner of her eyes, gently lifting her up again. She can’t help but wonder if Sua had anticipated. Does, on those nights, when practicing her own death, Sua knew all this would happen? At the backstage, when both of them fighted, what was Sua thinking when she looked at Mizi, eyes wavering while shaky hands covered Mizi’s mouth?
“ Please, just let this lie continue. Because, if it doesn’t, then I wouldn’t know what to do anymore.”
On that stage, Sua had performed so dazzlingly, sweats were trickling down her neck. Then, she turned to Mizi, unbothered to look at the score board above but neither did Mizi because all the attention was on the one before her. And, Sua smiled, one so bright and warm, just before a ruthless bullet hit her neck. Red blood spilling out, some got on Mizi's face as her beloved collapsed, bringing all her love with her. Knowing Sua’s plan, Mizi still continued to love her selfishly. As a result, she has to live on, to carry Sua’s love in her barren heart. Despite the pain in her body begging her not to, Mizi slowly drags her body up. Her eyes, now devoid of spark and joy, stare aimlessly into somewhere beyond the sand, as if she was thinking about something.
And, with that, the Witch disappeares into the unknown.
.
.
As years pass, the pain also starts to fade. Nonetheless, among the rebellion and the alien, a story is whispered between each other. A tragedy about a foolish girl who blindly believes that she can make love bloom in this brutal world. And in the end, she couldn’t do anything but to live with the burns of that love until the end of her life.
Warnings: Yandere, Implied kidnapping, Obsession, etc.
"Chrollo, I love you”
Her voice hits my head like a bell. Looking up, she is smiling widely at me as she declared her feelings. Not waiting for my response, she only giggles as she runs up to me, wrapping me with her small arms. I don’t know what kind of face I am making right now, but I guess it was one of warmth and love, one that makes her eyes soften and presses her cheeks to my chest, one that is exclusive to her alone.
Suddenly, the heart thought to have gone cold of mine beats wildly in my chest. And I guess that is enough as a confirmation of my love for her, judging from her rosy cheeks and the way she shyly buries her face in my chest despite having so boldly confessed to me a minute ago. The sundress that she has specifically picked out flutters in the wind while the sunlight casts on our surroundings. Though, I must say her radiance is greater than that of any star.
“I know.”- Comes my reply and she looks up to me, her eyes looking up to me as if I hung the stars in the sky. At times like this, just the mere thought of those loving eyes set on someone other than me is irksome. If I carved out those eyes, will they look only at me? But then, they will lose the vibrancy that I so adore. I want to rip out my heart and place it in you so you would feel an ounce of my feelings for you.
“Then, will you continue to love me forever, dear?”
She is a cunning woman. A woman so cruel that she has to take away what I am capable of and leave me with what I used to be, full of hope and love. The hand that could easily snap one’s neck is now caressing her hair as if it was fine silk. For a thief as myself, it is an embarrassing defeat. She got what she wanted so it’s only fair that I do the same. I know that this lie will one day be revealed. Then, I wonder what kind of expression would you wear? Will you curse me out until your throat hurts or will you cry your heart out? But one thing I know for sure is that you will be part of the future I have painted for both of us.
Then, her eyes gaze into mine as she smiles widely, an image that will forever burn into my mind.
“Of course.”
[First], for your sake and mine, I hope this lie can continue a little longer.
Warnings: Vampire Au, murders, deaths , unhealthy relationship, etc.
Words count: ~6.5k words
“Inspector, you finally came.”
At this time, most people would have gone to bed, curled up in the comfort that their blankets provide. But, tonight was different. The police sirens went off as more and more people had gathered to get a glimpse of the crime scene. Honestly, not many would be able to sleep soundly knowing that a murder had taken place in their neighbourhood. You carefully step through the barricade tape, into the threshold. It was a humble house, the kind that one would look at and pay no attention to.
“Yeah, I did not expect the news to be spread so rapidly, even the journalists have assembled outside. So, how’s everything going?”
The thin coat you were wearing provided little warmth against the chilly air. Despite having spent years of your life here, the coldness during night time in York New city was not something you could grow accustomed to. In your defense, you barely got time to pick out anything warmer when you were informed about the case.
“ Well, the house has been sealed off. We are questioning nearby occupants for more information.”
“And the victim?”
“Blair Sawyer. Male. 35 years old. Live alone. No criminal records or whatsoever. The autopsy report just came back from the lab in case you want to take a look at it.”
As you skimmed through the report,a specific line caught your attention.
Cause of death: Blood loss.
The victim is suspected to have their blood drained until death. The blood is believed to be drained through two punctured holes on the victim's neck.
In the photo taken by the crime scene analysis team, the victim was found dead in the living room, their face distorted in fear and panic. Bruises painted across their pale skin like a canvas- a sign that there was a struggle.
“ Inspector, do you think this is one of those cases?” A voice suddenly cut your train of thought. The young officer shot you a concerning look as he spoke.
It was a reasonable reaction. York New city was by no means free of crime and its residents had made peace with the gang activities and the mafias here. But, no one could have expected this. Recently, bodies had been continuously reported in every area of the city. However, the list of victims showed nothing in common except for the fact that they all died because of blood loss with a minimal amount of blood left in their bodies. Countless investigations were held but in the end, you were just running in circles. And so, the fear of a ruthless and mysterious murderer had eaten away at people’s minds. Parents had begun to place their children under curfews; citizens hastily rushed home after work, etc. Still, that never stopped the murders.
“Yeah. At least, this time our murderer has the decency to leave the body whole”. You could feel bile building up in your stomach at the mention of the previous case.
In the last case, there was barely anything left to identify the victim. Their face was ripped off, along with some of their limbs. The body was a mangled mess, some of the organs went missing as well. And the smell… Oh god! How could you fathom it? The stench of rotten flesh was beyond words. That night, whatever you had had for dinner ended up in the toilet.
“Maybe this is one of the mafias’ doings? I mean, York New reeks of criminals. It would be natural if this is just an act of revenge or anything similar.”- said the young officer.
“No, it couldn’t be. As rotten inside as this city has got, I doubt no one would be stupid enough to provoke the wrath of the several gangs unless they have a death wish. Not to mention, this time the murder took place in the territory of the Nostrade family, one of the most influential families here. Moreover, if this was all an act of revenge between gangs then I doubt they would want to alarm the police. ”
The room was messy but the investigation team had reported that nothing was stolen either. If the culprit's motives were for revenge, then the body wouldn’t be intact after this. The differences in the state of the corpses discovered during previous cases were indecipherable either. Some were tortured past the point of recognition but there were some lucky enough to have their corpses whole. Yet, why bother using different ways to kill if their end goal was the death of the victim?
Your head throbbed, causing you to wince involuntarily. Maybe weeks of living on nothing but caffeine and microwaved dishes finally caught up to you. When was the last time you slept through a night without being called to a crime scene again? You gently massaged your temple as you spoke.
“My suggestion is that there is a third-party, a group, behind these murders. Though their goal still remains a mystery, judging from previous murders, it would be a plausible explanation. However, if they manage to avoid both the polices’ investigation and the mafias’ wrath while continuing to commit these crimes at the same time then we are making a formidable enemy here.”
As an effort to stop these crimes, the authorities had set curfews and security was tightened. Nevertheless, with a city as complicated as York New, it was just like pouring salt into the sea. Bodies were discovered, cases kept popping up, yet none of which was solved. To add more salt into the injury, the press had constantly bombarded the police with questions, prying out any piece of information like hungry hyenas. Gradually, the public were running thin and doubts about the police’s ability were raised, putting the whole system under pressure. So far, you could count that there had been at least two crowds of angry citizens in front of the police station where you work this week.
But still, because of this, the higher-ups had been on your ass ever since. Well, it looked like tonight was going to be another sleepless night. For now, let’s just see if there were any clues left behind.
.
.
.
Under the dim lights of lampposts, echoed the sounds of your shoes tapping on the pavement. Like usual, you worked until the moon had set place on the top of your head.
“The chief really gave us an earful today, right [First] ?”
“Well, he has been dealing with the journalists since morning. No matter how many times it has happened, the topic of murder always has its appeal. He was practically fuming the moment he walked into the station.”
“And whose fault was it? You should know that better than anyone, Viktor.”
Viktor was another inspector just like you. The both of you had been working together since the early days. Despite his nonchalant attitude, he was a reliable man. Still, the investigation showed no progress. You and others had run through every detail of the case, talked with Mr. Sawyer's family members and his colleagues. A typical man with a nine to five job, no ties with the mafias or having any grudges with anyone. So maybe Mr. Sawyer was just unlucky to be on the culprit’s radar this time? But wouldn’t it be too risky to infiltrate someone's house without any information beforehand? The culprit must have known about his daily schedule. However, it had already been proven that the reason behind this case wasn’t for revenge…
“Ouch!”
While you were deep in thoughts, Viktor flicked your forehand.
“You are thinking about the case again, aren’t you? Keep that up and don’t go complain to me about your wrinkles. The last thing I need is another grumpy old colleague nagging at my ear. Just having the chief is enough.”
“Then you should fix that mouth of yours, Viktor. Thanks to it, we have gotten on his nerves several times.”
A frustrated groan escaped your lips. This case really annoyed you! Just when you thought you were one step closer to the culprit, only to realize that you had reached a dead end. Not only you but the whole police force had been in disarray ever since. It was like an endless game of cat and mouse, a game you had been desperately trying to win.
“So, are you going to that bar again?”
“Yeah, maybe the bitter taste of alcohol would temporarily take my mind off the case, wanna go?”
“No, I think I’ll pass this time.”
You were about to turn away when Viktor’s voice hit you from behind
“Hey, no matter what happens, just keep pushing forward, okay?”
“I know”
And, with that, both of you waved each other goodbye. In a way, Viktor was also as determined as you were, though his actions rarely showed it. Years of working with him were more than enough for you to understand it.
You continued to walk down the streets then turned into a small alleyway. The lights here clearly weren’t as well-maintained as those on the main street as they flickered in the dark. Just before you knew it, a familiar bar had appeared in front of you.. The place itself wasn’t grand or did it particularly stand out, rather, it was old-fashioned, like a small corner of the past, forgotten amid the rapid development of the world around it. It felt nostalgic. Pushing open the door, a warm and husky voice from the bar counter welcomed you
“ Good evening, Ms. Detective. Seems like you are having a rough day?”
Chrollo Lucilfer, the bartender and also the owner of this place. You only came across his bar by chance but that might be the greatest discovery of your life. Had it been for the drinks then you wouldn’t have found yourself coming back here so often. Time seemed to fly whenever you talked with Chrollo. He was observant and he knew that, always picking the right words to say. However, as soothing as his words might be, there was something murky behind them, like a pandora box meant to be left locked. And, as a detective, your job was to unravel secrets, reveal what was behind the scenes. Curiosity was a toxin run deep in your blood, killing you slowly but it was also what kept you alive. Perhaps, Chrollo had noticed it a while ago. If so, then he was doing a great job keeping it a secret.
“Yeah, with all the crimes taking place in this city, I can hardly catch a breath.”
Stepping inside, the sweet scent of fruits and syrups hit you first. But, behind it, you could smell the familiar sharpness of alcohol. The two scents balanced each other out perfectly like a slow waltz carried out with great delicacy and grace. There were a few customers aside from you. Most of them were out of it, sleeping peacefully while their mouths mumbled some meaningless phrase as you walked past them. Chrollo had shared with you that you were one of the few frequents of this bar and almost every client here were tired workers who happen to come across this place. The others were mainly his friends from childhood, it seemed. You could hastily recall you once encountered a woman with blonde hair and a purple suit. She had given you a soft smile as she walked past you. Or that one time you met a strange man with pink hair, though it didn’t really end on good terms.
He was a strange man. From his appearance: pink hair, makeup with star and teardrop on his face and a crop top with similar pattern; to his attitude
“Oh~ So this is the one that has kept you occupied recently. Though, I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”- He purred, voice dripping with sweetness.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t interfere with my business.”- It was the usual attitude that Chrollo would use when working, but it was a tad sharper. Clearly, he was irritated. This fact caught you by surprise since he was no impulsive man.
On the other hand, that pink haired man- the cause of Chrollo’s anger, still remained as calm as ever, or rather, he seemed a bit giddy as the scene unfolded before his eyes. As if motivated by it, he went on with his frivolous tone.
“Ouch~ And to think I have spent all the way here just to pay you a visit. But, as a fellow man, I just want to give you advice: The longer you keep a flower in the dark, the more likely it will wilt when exposed to the light.”
“Hisoka! Since you have achieved your purpose then I guess it’s time for you to leave.”
When faced with Chrollo’s blatant displeasure, the man only laughed before giving a wink on his way out. That night, you didn’t dare to dig any deeper about him in front of Chrollo despite your curiosity. The only thing you caught was the name that Chrollo had slipped earlier.
.
.
Tonight, Chrollo was wearing a black gilet combined with a white shirt; the sleeves were rolled up, revealing his sturdy and muscular biceps. For someone who usually stands in one place, his figure was well-built. Indeed, he was an attractive man.
“I heard what happened to Mr. Sawyer this morning.”- Behind the counter, Chrollo spoke up to you.
“Well, since this morning, every headline was plastered with news about the man’s death. And, like usual, I was entrusted with this case though there hadn’t been any progress.”- A heavy sigh past your lips.
“It was a shame. He used to be a regular at this bar”
Huh?
His statement was like a bombshell to you. But, ignoring your perplexion, he mused
“Mr. Sawyer has quite a peculiar taste. He used to order a glass of Absinthe every time he visited.”
Seeing your confused expression, Chrollo continued:
“This morning, an inspector along with some police officers asked me some details about Mr. Sawyer. Still, it seems like my answer was not one they are looking for. Looking back at it, that inspector introduced his name was Viktor.”
Right, Viktor did mention going out to gather more information about the case.
“Oh, that man was my colleague. I hope he didn’t give you a hard time.”- You chuckled as you said.
From the start of this evening, Chrollo was having his back turned to you as the both of you chatted. But, as soon as you finished that sentence, his head turned. Black eyes pierced yours, carrying a hint of curiosity… and mischief ?
“I didn’t know then. However, I am rather inquisitive. Say, how long have you known each other?”
You were so thrilled at the mention of your co-worker, who was also your best friend, that you failed to see the rigidity behind his smile or the questioning-borderline-on-prying tone in his voice.
“We have been working together since I was still a mere police officer. If anything, I could say he is the one that understands me the most.”- Your eyes instinctively softened as years of memories came flooding through your mind like an old footage.
“I see.”
Chrollo didn’t push any further at your reply, maybe he had already got the answer he wanted. Instead, he put down a glass of mojito in front of you. Taking a sip, you enjoyed its familiar taste. The sourness from the lime juice, the freshness from crushed mint leaves,... combined with a subtle taste of white rum. It felt like someone just splashes you a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day. On days like this, a good glass of cocktail was what kept you from being overwhelmed.
While you were enjoying yourself with the drink, your bartender was dutifully cleaning the glasses, his back turned to you. Though Chrollo always found a way to talk to you, every so often, there were moments like this, when there was nothing but silence between the both of you. It was some sort of a mutual understanding, a moment of solace before going back to the busy world outside.
.
.
.
“Say, [ First ]. Do you believe in vampires?”- The silence only lasted for a while until Chrollo decided to break it. It seems he had finished cleaning the glasses.
“Huh? Where is this coming from?”- The conversation had taken a direction where you least expected it. Maybe this was his attempt at living things up?
“It has been floating around on the Internet for a while now, don’t you know? People tend to turn to supernatural forces when confronted with things they don’t understand yet. Mysteries about bloodless dead bodies does sound like something comes from a cheap novel about vampires”- He said
You were caught off guard with his unconcerned attitude, as if he was stating the most obvious thing on Earth. Of all things, Chrollo didn’t strike you as the type to go on the Internet just to read some made-up theories about murders. Heck, you even doubt if he even bothered to read such things in the first place? One time, when you were tipsy from all the alcohol you had down before, you told him that his vibes reminded you of a 19th century duke whose main means of communication is letters and pigeons. After you had said that, Chrollo burst out laughing, completely unlike his usual compose demeanor. That night, you had learned about another side of the man before you, though he was quick to recover.
“Isn’t that something that belongs in fiction only?”- Came your reply.
“Just a hypothesis, were vampires to be real, what would you think they would be like?”- He questioned you. However, rather than in the skeptical tone earlier, this time, his question came from genuine curiosity, along with a hint of amusement. His eyes looked straight at yours and the corners of his mouth slightly curled up. Damn, he really knew how to put his good looks to use.
You thought for a while before answering:
“ Maybe something like a man with a Dracula cape, living alone in an abandoned Romanian castle in the middle of the forest?”- Clearly, you didn’t put that much effort into your reply.
“Isn’t that a bit too cliché?”- Chrollo hummed
Twirling the glass in your hand, you took a sip. Even as the ice melted, the taste of mint and lemon was still as refreshing as ever:
“Well, you asked for it”
He only smiled at your response.
“Perhaps you are right, but vampires are a creature of the night. Maybe they are lurking in the shadows, behind every building of this city; waiting for an unfortunate soul to feed on. Or, unbeknown to all, they could be breathing down on our neck right now.”-Chrollo trailed off, his eyes settled on the empty seat at the far end corner of the counter; as if deep in thought; but he only paused for a moment before going on
“Still, to think such a gruesome act had been done on Mr. Sawyer. The glass of Absinthe still sits in the corner of the bar but the one who enjoys it is no longer here. ”- His eyes downcasted as he spoke.
Yeah, it was never easy to deal with things like these. You thought to yourself. Ever since you were entrusted with this string of murders, you had seen how people react to the news about the death of someone they knew. Some collapsed from the shock, some refused to believe. Yet, the burden never lessened, it only grew heavier with each day passed. It must have been hard for Chrollo when he was informed of Mr. Sawyer’s death.
“There is no way for us to win over the pain. So, we could only keep moving forward.”
This was the least you could do. Then, Chrollo looked up, his eyes bored into yours, and a smile bloomed across his face, not the one he used to wear during work but something more gentle, softer. A flicker of vulnerability, tender but also fleeting. For a second, he gazed at you, longingly and earnestly, as if you were his solace, something that he kept close in his heart. This sudden change of his caused heat to rise to your cheeks, you tried to look away while he chuckled.
Then, a glass of cocktail was set before you, but before you could ask, Chrollo already cut you off:
“Let’s say this is my gratitude to you.”
Looking at the rosy red drink before you, you took the glass in your hand, carefully examined it.
“What’s this?”
“A Vampire’s Kiss” -He replied
“Cliché”- You retorted
Chrollo only hummed at your remark.
Well, it was not an everyday thing to get a free drink, so you would take what you can get. The cocktail tasted sweet, likely from the raspberry liquor and the red sugar adorned on top. You could get used to this taste.
Feeling the atmosphere had lightened up, you joked:
“Vampire or not, I will bring the culprit out under the light of justice.”
“Was it intended?”- He laughed again
.
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Then I wish you the best, Ms. Detective.” - Chrollo said while chuckling, his shoulders were shaking with every word spilled out of his mouth and what image you used to have about him as a calm and mysterious individual dissolved.
Suddenly, your phone rung in your pocket, when you turned it on, it was a message from Viktor
“Hey, are you there? I think I just discovered a new clue to our case. I still need to confirm a few things so I will tell you about it tomorrow morning.”
After reading those words from Viktor, it took you a while to put them together. Wait! Isn’t this too good? Months of searching high and low, working late into midnight and now, there is finally some progress. If this is true then you could finally catch the culprit or better yet, the whole group behind this chain of horrors. You thought to yourself while grinning.
Then, Chrollo’s voice broke you from your thoughts:
“Did something happen?”
“Just some work-related stuff. Well, it seems like I have to call it a night.”- You placed the bill under your glass as you headed for the door.
When you were about to leave, a voice called out from behind
“Good luck, [First]. See you again soon”- Chrollo smiled at you but somehow, it felt strange. Like peace before a storm. Your instinct told you that something was wrong, that you really should worry about it. Instead, you only managed to say back:
“Yeah, good night, Chrollo.”
The uneasiness only grew as you walked to your apartment. At that time, when your system had finally caught up with the alcohol from earlier, the least you could remember were you comforting yourself before sinking into the bed.
Well, tomorrow will be a good day.
.
.
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“How could this happen?”- You muttered, your question was drowned out by the heavy rain. If anyone was listening, they clearly wouldn’t miss how your voice cracked as you spoke.
You had run all the way here when you first heard the news; your clothes and hair were soaked due to the sudden downpour but right now, it wasn’t your concern. The sirens of police cars rang in your ears, barricade tape was put in front of the door of an apartment. An apartment belonged to someone you knew, someone dear to you. It was Viktor’s apartment.
A report lied in your hand but not a single page had been read. The police officer who had handed it to you didn’t say anything, maybe out of consideration or empathy. You didn’t want to read it, because, if you did, it would mean that something terrible had happened to him, something that you didn’t want to know about.
“No, it couldn’t be! Just yesterday, he told me that he wanted to tell me something about the case. How could things become like this?”- You denied and yet, with shaky hands, you still opened the report.
.
.
You didn’t remember much after that. The investigation still went on as usual: taking photos of the crime scene, investigating the neighbours, etc. You were in your apartment. The bedroom was filled with reports and photos taken from Viktor’s house. You had asked the Chief to bring them home for further investigation. He didn’t say anything but only nodded as you walked out of his office. Sitting at your desk with all of the papers sprawled out, you had lost count of the number of times you read the report on Viktor’s death.
Male. In late 20s. Died from blood loss. The victim was murdered around 12 p.m
That was it. No more and no less. It seemed like a photo and a few words were enough to declare someone’s death. Viktor didn’t deserve an end like this. Someone as loud and energetic as him shouldn’t die in silence and sorrow. That night, had you followed your senses, had you called him, would things have changed?
No matter what happens, just keep pushing forward.
Those words kept playing in your head like a broken radio. Of all things, why did you have to remember it? As if your mind was stuck at that night, you couldn’t recall anything about him. What did he say when you both had to work overtime to solve a case? Or when both of you went out for drinks after work?
How could I possibly live on when there is so much to remember, Viktor?
If he had been here, he would have told you looked awful in your current state; and you would have given him a light jab while he laughed about it. Fueled by your own emotions, you slammed your hand hard onto the table, papers scattered all over the place while you gritted your teeth. And then, in the corner of your eyes, whether it was coincidental or not, a photo caught your attention. It was one of the crime scenes, where Viktor was lying lifelessly on his work table. His skin was unusually pale, his face confronted in pain and shock. Even then, you still cared about finding the truth. Ignoring the bitter feelings rising in your stomach, you stared intently at the photo in your hand. Somehow, strangely enough, his table was filled with… alcohol bills? No. To be more precise, bills from a bar. But what did Viktor need to confirm with thes-
“It was a shame. He used to be a regular at this bar.”
.
.
“Still, to think such a gruesome act had been done on Mr. Sawyer.”
A scary thought ran through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. You didn’t want to consider it a possibility, but, the more you willed it away, the more compelling things became. The truth you had seeked so desperately now turned into the Pandora box that you didn’t dare to open it, for fear of what was waiting for you, for the inevitable future that you had prayed to not come true. You already had the lamp to dispel the fog around you, and yet, why were you hesitating? Maybe things were just a misunderstanding. Yeah, it should be! If your mind was a little clearer, everything would be-
“Hey, no matter what happens, just keep pushing forward, okay?”
A familiar voice woke you from your trance. What were you thinking? You almost discard your duty and your pride as an inspector. You almost fail Viktor’s trust in you. However, all the pieces had fallen into place. You had messed up, but this was your chance to make things right again. In the empty bedroom, echoed the laugh of yourself.
“So, it all comes to this, huh, Viktor? In the end, you were a far more excellent inspector than me.”- Your voice was barely a whisper. But, this time, you were no longer shaking.
With determination, you pressed the call button on your phone
“Hello, this is inspector [Last Name]. I need to review the documents that Inspector Rodriguez had borrowed on the night he was killed.”
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“Good evening, Chrollo.”- The bells rang as you pushed the door, disrupting the serene atmosphere of the bar. As usual, he was standing at the counter, wearing a smile on his face as he worked.
“It looks like you are in a good mood, [First].”- Chrollo chimed in.
Taking a seat at your usual spot, you took a look at the surroundings. Tonight, you had visited unusually early so there were only the two of you in this building. If Chrollo had noticed anything then he must have kept it to himself.
“Yeah, things have been going smoothly lately.”- You gave him a soft smile as you went on.
This time, he didn’t reply but turned his back to you, busying himself with the numerous glasses and bottles of liquor.
“So, Chrollo, I hear that on a day before of Mr. Sawyer’s death, he went to your bar to drink?”- You questioned
Still as calm as ever, he replied:
“Yes, your colleague went and asked me the same question. And I have given him Mr. Sawyer’s receipt.”
“So, on the night of the murder, did you meet him?”- You pressed on but Chrollo still remained unaffected.
“I didn’t meet him but I did go out. However, it was only to buy supplies for the bar.”
You didn’t ask anymore since you had already got the answer you were searching for.
“Liar!”
The cold barrel of the gun pointed straight at the back of the man you once considered a close friend. Yet, during the whole conversation and even at this moment, he still remained undisturbed, as if today was just another day at work. Then, he slowly turned around, for the first time this evening, his eyes met yours. Rather than the usual panic or the fear of having your life on the line, you could spot a glint in his eyes. It was amusement, along with anticipation, like this was just a game of hide and seek between children. That alone was enough to make the bile in your stomach rise.
After what felt like an eternity, he spoke up:
“Then, Ms. Detective, what made you believe so?”
“It was the receipt that you have so confidently given to us.”
He hummed, urging you to continue:
“ A few weeks ago, the government applied a new tax on alcohol. Therefore, all bars and liquor stores had to raise their products’ price. But here, the cost for a glass of Absinthe was the same as those in earlier dates. You have successfully misguided everyone with your trick.”
Not waiting for Chrollo’s reply, you carried on:
“Mr. Sawyer is a regular at your place and a heavy drinker. If you denied knowing him, it would raise suspicion. The same would happen if you said that he didn’t come to the bar. So, forging evidence to show you met him while not putting you into the police’s radar was the only choice.”
While you were talking, his eyes still gazed at you. The same tender and soft gaze that you had caught a glimpse at. Why did you look at me like that? Why did you look at me with those eyes? You wanted to scream, to grab him by the collar and yell. With those unwavering eyes, he asked you:
“Since when did you notice?”
It took every cell in your being to not pull the trigger. Instead, you only gritted your teeth, the hand holding the gun had gradually turned red
“The night when I went to drink at your place, I noticed something amiss. It was the absence of the bottle of Absinthe - Mr.Sawyer’s usual drink. For someone as meticulous as you are, I doubt you would make a mistake like that. That is, unless you have already known that he wouldn’t be able to come here anymore.”
And then, Chrollo laughed, a hearty laugh. His shoulders were shaking as a hand covered his mouth. After a while, he finally regained his composure.
“You are even more than what I expected, [Fir-
“Do not call me by my name!”-You could not contain your anger anymore. What part of you that felt hesitated when pointing a gun to him had already died.
“Answer me. Why did you kill Mr. Sawyer?”
After you mentioned the case of Mr. Sawyer, in a blink of an eye, the warm and tender feelings in his eyes felt a tad too hollow and you shivered. It was the same as that time, when you met Hisoka in his bar. You wondered if that was the kind of face he had worn when killing others?
“Maybe because he had nothing to do with me.”- He just stated it as if that was as obvious as the fact that the sun rises in the morning and the moon rises at night.
“So you murdered Viktor for the same reason?”
“No, it because he had something to do with me that I have to kill him”
Not waiting for you to voice your confusion, Chrollo continued:
“I really enjoyed this game of cat and mouse with you. So when someone threatened to ruin the game, I couldn’t allow that, could I? Let’s say I was tying up loose ends.”
Whatever resolve you had built up before cracked. What the hell? Was everything, the grief of those who had lost their loved ones, sleepless nights spent racking your brain through every single report about the lives he had taken, just a mere game to him? The anger swelling within your heart was screeching, threatening to dig its claw into the face of the man before you and rip his smile off. After everything, how could a monster like you could go on and act like it was nothing but dirt on your shoes? Thoughts invaded your mind, but you could only whisper: “Why?”. Then, Chrollo even had the gut to act surprise
“ And I thought I have made my feelings for you clear after all this time. But I don’t mind repeating it again. Because I am fond of you.”
This time, it was your time to be astonished. Did he just confess to you? As if sensing your hesitation, Chrollo proceeded to talk in that same tone:
“Dearest, believe me when I said I really enjoyed our time together. You were a valued individual to me and even I couldn’t find myself to leave you alone, not when knowing that someone might come to you when I look away.
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So what is your choice, Ms. Detective”- He offered you. You used to think that he looked ethereal. But the Devil always made himself beautiful to lure in unfortunate souls.
The endearment cringed you out. You didn’t accept his hand nor did you refuse it. Instead, you only strengthened the hand holding the gun, your brows furrowed, eyes pierced straight at Chrollo. Having got your answer, he only chuckled:
“Of course, you wouldn’t. That’s what I love about you. Had you agreed, it would have been disappointing. Though, it does sound appealing when you choose me voluntarily.”
Maybe, had this been one of those nights, you would have found your heart pounding wildly in your chest, eyes crinkling in delight as you laughed off his flirtations. But, it wasn’t. Instead of holding and enjoying a glass of mojito, you were holding a gun against Chrollo.
“Though, I must ask. What would you do if I refused to acknowledge your accusations, [First].”- He mused
“I will corner you until you admit it. Surely, there are others beside you.”
“Then, I’m afraid that won’t happen.”- He said sheepishly. Not waiting for your response, he announced
“...For you are coming with me.”
A hand outstretched to you. Every nerve in your system was telling you to fight or flee. Not wasting any second, two gunshots rang simultaneously. But, instead of injuring Chrollo like you had intended, only the sound of broken glass scattered across the floor and he was nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to turn around, a weight was put onto your back.
Thud!
With one swift movement, the gun in your hand was easily thrown away. You tried to resist, only to be hit back with inhumane strength. Working in the police department for years, you had your fair share of experience when dealing with uncooperative criminals. And now, Chrollo could singlehandly turn you facing him and slam you onto the counter, forcing a wince past your lips
“Love, I would rather you didn’t resist too much.”- He said and at the corner of your eyes, you caught sight of two pointy teeth. Or to be more precise, his fangs. Seeing your dumbfounded expression, he laughed again, his voice rung in your ears
Wait, what? So all this time, the man who you thought as your friend turned out to be something not even human?
Discarding all the questions in your head, you knew that if you didn’t act quickly, everything you had built up would crumble. Don’t be distracted, [First]. Just hang on for a few minutes and-
“Before going here, you have contacted the police, right?”
You could only freeze up as Chrollo guessed your plan. Suddenly, it all felt like the time when everything around you was still a mystery. No matter what you did, he would always be two steps ahead. How foolish of the mouse to think that it had escaped just because it couldn’t see the claws of the cat.
“I would like to talk to you more but it seems we don’t have much time to spare.”
As Chrollo explained, his head descended to your neck, breath fanning over your collarbone. He pressed featherlight kisses to a spot before biting into it. The coldness of his lips did nothing to soothe the pain of his fangs pierced through your skin. Then, your blood slowly flowed through your wound and down his throat. As you lost more blood, your consciousness gradually slipped away. You didn’t know when Chrollo had removed his hands from your wrists to wrap them around your back but it didn’t matter. For you, the coldness of his hand and the absence of heartbeat only served to remind you of a shackle, one that probably would probably never loosen and you doubt that he cared. You only had yourself to blame as the world around you darkened. Before you passed out, you could feel a lingering kiss pressed onto your eye lids.
“Sweet dreams, [First].”
And, with that, both of you disappeared into the night.
Warnings: Vampire Au, murders, deaths , unhealthy relationship, etc.
Words count: ~6.5k words
“Inspector, you finally came.”
At this time, most people would have gone to bed, curled up in the comfort that their blankets provide. But, tonight was different. The police sirens went off as more and more people had gathered to get a glimpse of the crime scene. Honestly, not many would be able to sleep soundly knowing that a murder had taken place in their neighbourhood. You carefully step through the barricade tape, into the threshold. It was a humble house, the kind that one would look at and pay no attention to.
“Yeah, I did not expect the news to be spread so rapidly, even the journalists have assembled outside. So, how’s everything going?”
The thin coat you were wearing provided little warmth against the chilly air. Despite having spent years of your life here, the coldness during night time in York New city was not something you could grow accustomed to. In your defense, you barely got time to pick out anything warmer when you were informed about the case.
“ Well, the house has been sealed off. We are questioning nearby occupants for more information.”
“And the victim?”
“Blair Sawyer. Male. 35 years old. Live alone. No criminal records or whatsoever. The autopsy report just came back from the lab in case you want to take a look at it.”
As you skimmed through the report,a specific line caught your attention.
Cause of death: Blood loss.
The victim is suspected to have their blood drained until death. The blood is believed to be drained through two punctured holes on the victim's neck.
In the photo taken by the crime scene analysis team, the victim was found dead in the living room, their face distorted in fear and panic. Bruises painted across their pale skin like a canvas- a sign that there was a struggle.
“ Inspector, do you think this is one of those cases?” A voice suddenly cut your train of thought. The young officer shot you a concerning look as he spoke.
It was a reasonable reaction. York New city was by no means free of crime and its residents had made peace with the gang activities and the mafias here. But, no one could have expected this. Recently, bodies had been continuously reported in every area of the city. However, the list of victims showed nothing in common except for the fact that they all died because of blood loss with a minimal amount of blood left in their bodies. Countless investigations were held but in the end, you were just running in circles. And so, the fear of a ruthless and mysterious murderer had eaten away at people’s minds. Parents had begun to place their children under curfews; citizens hastily rushed home after work, etc. Still, that never stopped the murders.
“Yeah. At least, this time our murderer has the decency to leave the body whole”. You could feel bile building up in your stomach at the mention of the previous case.
In the last case, there was barely anything left to identify the victim. Their face was ripped off, along with some of their limbs. The body was a mangled mess, some of the organs went missing as well. And the smell… Oh god! How could you fathom it? The stench of rotten flesh was beyond words. That night, whatever you had had for dinner ended up in the toilet.
“Maybe this is one of the mafias’ doings? I mean, York New reeks of criminals. It would be natural if this is just an act of revenge or anything similar.”- said the young officer.
“No, it couldn’t be. As rotten inside as this city has got, I doubt no one would be stupid enough to provoke the wrath of the several gangs unless they have a death wish. Not to mention, this time the murder took place in the territory of the Nostrade family, one of the most influential families here. Moreover, if this was all an act of revenge between gangs then I doubt they would want to alarm the police. ”
The room was messy but the investigation team had reported that nothing was stolen either. If the culprit's motives were for revenge, then the body wouldn’t be intact after this. The differences in the state of the corpses discovered during previous cases were indecipherable either. Some were tortured past the point of recognition but there were some lucky enough to have their corpses whole. Yet, why bother using different ways to kill if their end goal was the death of the victim?
Your head throbbed, causing you to wince involuntarily. Maybe weeks of living on nothing but caffeine and microwaved dishes finally caught up to you. When was the last time you slept through a night without being called to a crime scene again? You gently massaged your temple as you spoke.
“My suggestion is that there is a third-party, a group, behind these murders. Though their goal still remains a mystery, judging from previous murders, it would be a plausible explanation. However, if they manage to avoid both the polices’ investigation and the mafias’ wrath while continuing to commit these crimes at the same time then we are making a formidable enemy here.”
As an effort to stop these crimes, the authorities had set curfews and security was tightened. Nevertheless, with a city as complicated as York New, it was just like pouring salt into the sea. Bodies were discovered, cases kept popping up, yet none of which was solved. To add more salt into the injury, the press had constantly bombarded the police with questions, prying out any piece of information like hungry hyenas. Gradually, the public were running thin and doubts about the police’s ability were raised, putting the whole system under pressure. So far, you could count that there had been at least two crowds of angry citizens in front of the police station where you work this week.
But still, because of this, the higher-ups had been on your ass ever since. Well, it looked like tonight was going to be another sleepless night. For now, let’s just see if there were any clues left behind.
.
.
.
Under the dim lights of lampposts, echoed the sounds of your shoes tapping on the pavement. Like usual, you worked until the moon had set place on the top of your head.
“The chief really gave us an earful today, right [First] ?”
“Well, he has been dealing with the journalists since morning. No matter how many times it has happened, the topic of murder always has its appeal. He was practically fuming the moment he walked into the station.”
“And whose fault was it? You should know that better than anyone, Viktor.”
Viktor was another inspector just like you. The both of you had been working together since the early days. Despite his nonchalant attitude, he was a reliable man. Still, the investigation showed no progress. You and others had run through every detail of the case, talked with Mr. Sawyer's family members and his colleagues. A typical man with a nine to five job, no ties with the mafias or having any grudges with anyone. So maybe Mr. Sawyer was just unlucky to be on the culprit’s radar this time? But wouldn’t it be too risky to infiltrate someone's house without any information beforehand? The culprit must have known about his daily schedule. However, it had already been proven that the reason behind this case wasn’t for revenge…
“Ouch!”
While you were deep in thoughts, Viktor flicked your forehand.
“You are thinking about the case again, aren’t you? Keep that up and don’t go complain to me about your wrinkles. The last thing I need is another grumpy old colleague nagging at my ear. Just having the chief is enough.”
“Then you should fix that mouth of yours, Viktor. Thanks to it, we have gotten on his nerves several times.”
A frustrated groan escaped your lips. This case really annoyed you! Just when you thought you were one step closer to the culprit, only to realize that you had reached a dead end. Not only you but the whole police force had been in disarray ever since. It was like an endless game of cat and mouse, a game you had been desperately trying to win.
“So, are you going to that bar again?”
“Yeah, maybe the bitter taste of alcohol would temporarily take my mind off the case, wanna go?”
“No, I think I’ll pass this time.”
You were about to turn away when Viktor’s voice hit you from behind
“Hey, no matter what happens, just keep pushing forward, okay?”
“I know”
And, with that, both of you waved each other goodbye. In a way, Viktor was also as determined as you were, though his actions rarely showed it. Years of working with him were more than enough for you to understand it.
You continued to walk down the streets then turned into a small alleyway. The lights here clearly weren’t as well-maintained as those on the main street as they flickered in the dark. Just before you knew it, a familiar bar had appeared in front of you.. The place itself wasn’t grand or did it particularly stand out, rather, it was old-fashioned, like a small corner of the past, forgotten amid the rapid development of the world around it. It felt nostalgic. Pushing open the door, a warm and husky voice from the bar counter welcomed you
“ Good evening, Ms. Detective. Seems like you are having a rough day?”
Chrollo Lucilfer, the bartender and also the owner of this place. You only came across his bar by chance but that might be the greatest discovery of your life. Had it been for the drinks then you wouldn’t have found yourself coming back here so often. Time seemed to fly whenever you talked with Chrollo. He was observant and he knew that, always picking the right words to say. However, as soothing as his words might be, there was something murky behind them, like a pandora box meant to be left locked. And, as a detective, your job was to unravel secrets, reveal what was behind the scenes. Curiosity was a toxin run deep in your blood, killing you slowly but it was also what kept you alive. Perhaps, Chrollo had noticed it a while ago. If so, then he was doing a great job keeping it a secret.
“Yeah, with all the crimes taking place in this city, I can hardly catch a breath.”
Stepping inside, the sweet scent of fruits and syrups hit you first. But, behind it, you could smell the familiar sharpness of alcohol. The two scents balanced each other out perfectly like a slow waltz carried out with great delicacy and grace. There were a few customers aside from you. Most of them were out of it, sleeping peacefully while their mouths mumbled some meaningless phrase as you walked past them. Chrollo had shared with you that you were one of the few frequents of this bar and almost every client here were tired workers who happen to come across this place. The others were mainly his friends from childhood, it seemed. You could hastily recall you once encountered a woman with blonde hair and a purple suit. She had given you a soft smile as she walked past you. Or that one time you met a strange man with pink hair, though it didn’t really end on good terms.
He was a strange man. From his appearance: pink hair, makeup with star and teardrop on his face and a crop top with similar pattern; to his attitude
“Oh~ So this is the one that has kept you occupied recently. Though, I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”- He purred, voice dripping with sweetness.
“I would prefer it if you didn’t interfere with my business.”- It was the usual attitude that Chrollo would use when working, but it was a tad sharper. Clearly, he was irritated. This fact caught you by surprise since he was no impulsive man.
On the other hand, that pink haired man- the cause of Chrollo’s anger, still remained as calm as ever, or rather, he seemed a bit giddy as the scene unfolded before his eyes. As if motivated by it, he went on with his frivolous tone.
“Ouch~ And to think I have spent all the way here just to pay you a visit. But, as a fellow man, I just want to give you advice: The longer you keep a flower in the dark, the more likely it will wilt when exposed to the light.”
“Hisoka! Since you have achieved your purpose then I guess it’s time for you to leave.”
When faced with Chrollo’s blatant displeasure, the man only laughed before giving a wink on his way out. That night, you didn’t dare to dig any deeper about him in front of Chrollo despite your curiosity. The only thing you caught was the name that Chrollo had slipped earlier.
.
.
Tonight, Chrollo was wearing a black gilet combined with a white shirt; the sleeves were rolled up, revealing his sturdy and muscular biceps. For someone who usually stands in one place, his figure was well-built. Indeed, he was an attractive man.
“I heard what happened to Mr. Sawyer this morning.”- Behind the counter, Chrollo spoke up to you.
“Well, since this morning, every headline was plastered with news about the man’s death. And, like usual, I was entrusted with this case though there hadn’t been any progress.”- A heavy sigh past your lips.
“It was a shame. He used to be a regular at this bar”
Huh?
His statement was like a bombshell to you. But, ignoring your perplexion, he mused
“Mr. Sawyer has quite a peculiar taste. He used to order a glass of Absinthe every time he visited.”
Seeing your confused expression, Chrollo continued:
“This morning, an inspector along with some police officers asked me some details about Mr. Sawyer. Still, it seems like my answer was not one they are looking for. Looking back at it, that inspector introduced his name was Viktor.”
Right, Viktor did mention going out to gather more information about the case.
“Oh, that man was my colleague. I hope he didn’t give you a hard time.”- You chuckled as you said.
From the start of this evening, Chrollo was having his back turned to you as the both of you chatted. But, as soon as you finished that sentence, his head turned. Black eyes pierced yours, carrying a hint of curiosity… and mischief ?
“I didn’t know then. However, I am rather inquisitive. Say, how long have you known each other?”
You were so thrilled at the mention of your co-worker, who was also your best friend, that you failed to see the rigidity behind his smile or the questioning-borderline-on-prying tone in his voice.
“We have been working together since I was still a mere police officer. If anything, I could say he is the one that understands me the most.”- Your eyes instinctively softened as years of memories came flooding through your mind like an old footage.
“I see.”
Chrollo didn’t push any further at your reply, maybe he had already got the answer he wanted. Instead, he put down a glass of mojito in front of you. Taking a sip, you enjoyed its familiar taste. The sourness from the lime juice, the freshness from crushed mint leaves,... combined with a subtle taste of white rum. It felt like someone just splashes you a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day. On days like this, a good glass of cocktail was what kept you from being overwhelmed.
While you were enjoying yourself with the drink, your bartender was dutifully cleaning the glasses, his back turned to you. Though Chrollo always found a way to talk to you, every so often, there were moments like this, when there was nothing but silence between the both of you. It was some sort of a mutual understanding, a moment of solace before going back to the busy world outside.
.
.
.
“Say, [ First ]. Do you believe in vampires?”- The silence only lasted for a while until Chrollo decided to break it. It seems he had finished cleaning the glasses.
“Huh? Where is this coming from?”- The conversation had taken a direction where you least expected it. Maybe this was his attempt at living things up?
“It has been floating around on the Internet for a while now, don’t you know? People tend to turn to supernatural forces when confronted with things they don’t understand yet. Mysteries about bloodless dead bodies does sound like something comes from a cheap novel about vampires”- He said
You were caught off guard with his unconcerned attitude, as if he was stating the most obvious thing on Earth. Of all things, Chrollo didn’t strike you as the type to go on the Internet just to read some made-up theories about murders. Heck, you even doubt if he even bothered to read such things in the first place? One time, when you were tipsy from all the alcohol you had down before, you told him that his vibes reminded you of a 19th century duke whose main means of communication is letters and pigeons. After you had said that, Chrollo burst out laughing, completely unlike his usual compose demeanor. That night, you had learned about another side of the man before you, though he was quick to recover.
“Isn’t that something that belongs in fiction only?”- Came your reply.
“Just a hypothesis, were vampires to be real, what would you think they would be like?”- He questioned you. However, rather than in the skeptical tone earlier, this time, his question came from genuine curiosity, along with a hint of amusement. His eyes looked straight at yours and the corners of his mouth slightly curled up. Damn, he really knew how to put his good looks to use.
You thought for a while before answering:
“ Maybe something like a man with a Dracula cape, living alone in an abandoned Romanian castle in the middle of the forest?”- Clearly, you didn’t put that much effort into your reply.
“Isn’t that a bit too cliché?”- Chrollo hummed
Twirling the glass in your hand, you took a sip. Even as the ice melted, the taste of mint and lemon was still as refreshing as ever:
“Well, you asked for it”
He only smiled at your response.
“Perhaps you are right, but vampires are a creature of the night. Maybe they are lurking in the shadows, behind every building of this city; waiting for an unfortunate soul to feed on. Or, unbeknown to all, they could be breathing down on our neck right now.”-Chrollo trailed off, his eyes settled on the empty seat at the far end corner of the counter; as if deep in thought; but he only paused for a moment before going on
“Still, to think such a gruesome act had been done on Mr. Sawyer. The glass of Absinthe still sits in the corner of the bar but the one who enjoys it is no longer here. ”- His eyes downcasted as he spoke.
Yeah, it was never easy to deal with things like these. You thought to yourself. Ever since you were entrusted with this string of murders, you had seen how people react to the news about the death of someone they knew. Some collapsed from the shock, some refused to believe. Yet, the burden never lessened, it only grew heavier with each day passed. It must have been hard for Chrollo when he was informed of Mr. Sawyer’s death.
“There is no way for us to win over the pain. So, we could only keep moving forward.”
This was the least you could do. Then, Chrollo looked up, his eyes bored into yours, and a smile bloomed across his face, not the one he used to wear during work but something more gentle, softer. A flicker of vulnerability, tender but also fleeting. For a second, he gazed at you, longingly and earnestly, as if you were his solace, something that he kept close in his heart. This sudden change of his caused heat to rise to your cheeks, you tried to look away while he chuckled.
Then, a glass of cocktail was set before you, but before you could ask, Chrollo already cut you off:
“Let’s say this is my gratitude to you.”
Looking at the rosy red drink before you, you took the glass in your hand, carefully examined it.
“What’s this?”
“A Vampire’s Kiss” -He replied
“Cliché”- You retorted
Chrollo only hummed at your remark.
Well, it was not an everyday thing to get a free drink, so you would take what you can get. The cocktail tasted sweet, likely from the raspberry liquor and the red sugar adorned on top. You could get used to this taste.
Feeling the atmosphere had lightened up, you joked:
“Vampire or not, I will bring the culprit out under the light of justice.”
“Was it intended?”- He laughed again
.
.
Then I wish you the best, Ms. Detective.” - Chrollo said while chuckling, his shoulders were shaking with every word spilled out of his mouth and what image you used to have about him as a calm and mysterious individual dissolved.
Suddenly, your phone rung in your pocket, when you turned it on, it was a message from Viktor
“Hey, are you there? I think I just discovered a new clue to our case. I still need to confirm a few things so I will tell you about it tomorrow morning.”
After reading those words from Viktor, it took you a while to put them together. Wait! Isn’t this too good? Months of searching high and low, working late into midnight and now, there is finally some progress. If this is true then you could finally catch the culprit or better yet, the whole group behind this chain of horrors. You thought to yourself while grinning.
Then, Chrollo’s voice broke you from your thoughts:
“Did something happen?”
“Just some work-related stuff. Well, it seems like I have to call it a night.”- You placed the bill under your glass as you headed for the door.
When you were about to leave, a voice called out from behind
“Good luck, [First]. See you again soon”- Chrollo smiled at you but somehow, it felt strange. Like peace before a storm. Your instinct told you that something was wrong, that you really should worry about it. Instead, you only managed to say back:
“Yeah, good night, Chrollo.”
The uneasiness only grew as you walked to your apartment. At that time, when your system had finally caught up with the alcohol from earlier, the least you could remember were you comforting yourself before sinking into the bed.
Well, tomorrow will be a good day.
.
.
.
“How could this happen?”- You muttered, your question was drowned out by the heavy rain. If anyone was listening, they clearly wouldn’t miss how your voice cracked as you spoke.
You had run all the way here when you first heard the news; your clothes and hair were soaked due to the sudden downpour but right now, it wasn’t your concern. The sirens of police cars rang in your ears, barricade tape was put in front of the door of an apartment. An apartment belonged to someone you knew, someone dear to you. It was Viktor’s apartment.
A report lied in your hand but not a single page had been read. The police officer who had handed it to you didn’t say anything, maybe out of consideration or empathy. You didn’t want to read it, because, if you did, it would mean that something terrible had happened to him, something that you didn’t want to know about.
“No, it couldn’t be! Just yesterday, he told me that he wanted to tell me something about the case. How could things become like this?”- You denied and yet, with shaky hands, you still opened the report.
.
.
You didn’t remember much after that. The investigation still went on as usual: taking photos of the crime scene, investigating the neighbours, etc. You were in your apartment. The bedroom was filled with reports and photos taken from Viktor’s house. You had asked the Chief to bring them home for further investigation. He didn’t say anything but only nodded as you walked out of his office. Sitting at your desk with all of the papers sprawled out, you had lost count of the number of times you read the report on Viktor’s death.
Male. In late 20s. Died from blood loss. The victim was murdered around 12 p.m
That was it. No more and no less. It seemed like a photo and a few words were enough to declare someone’s death. Viktor didn’t deserve an end like this. Someone as loud and energetic as him shouldn’t die in silence and sorrow. That night, had you followed your senses, had you called him, would things have changed?
No matter what happens, just keep pushing forward.
Those words kept playing in your head like a broken radio. Of all things, why did you have to remember it? As if your mind was stuck at that night, you couldn’t recall anything about him. What did he say when you both had to work overtime to solve a case? Or when both of you went out for drinks after work?
How could I possibly live on when there is so much to remember, Viktor?
If he had been here, he would have told you looked awful in your current state; and you would have given him a light jab while he laughed about it. Fueled by your own emotions, you slammed your hand hard onto the table, papers scattered all over the place while you gritted your teeth. And then, in the corner of your eyes, whether it was coincidental or not, a photo caught your attention. It was one of the crime scenes, where Viktor was lying lifelessly on his work table. His skin was unusually pale, his face confronted in pain and shock. Even then, you still cared about finding the truth. Ignoring the bitter feelings rising in your stomach, you stared intently at the photo in your hand. Somehow, strangely enough, his table was filled with… alcohol bills? No. To be more precise, bills from a bar. But what did Viktor need to confirm with thes-
“It was a shame. He used to be a regular at this bar.”
.
.
“Still, to think such a gruesome act had been done on Mr. Sawyer.”
A scary thought ran through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. You didn’t want to consider it a possibility, but, the more you willed it away, the more compelling things became. The truth you had seeked so desperately now turned into the Pandora box that you didn’t dare to open it, for fear of what was waiting for you, for the inevitable future that you had prayed to not come true. You already had the lamp to dispel the fog around you, and yet, why were you hesitating? Maybe things were just a misunderstanding. Yeah, it should be! If your mind was a little clearer, everything would be-
“Hey, no matter what happens, just keep pushing forward, okay?”
A familiar voice woke you from your trance. What were you thinking? You almost discard your duty and your pride as an inspector. You almost fail Viktor’s trust in you. However, all the pieces had fallen into place. You had messed up, but this was your chance to make things right again. In the empty bedroom, echoed the laugh of yourself.
“So, it all comes to this, huh, Viktor? In the end, you were a far more excellent inspector than me.”- Your voice was barely a whisper. But, this time, you were no longer shaking.
With determination, you pressed the call button on your phone
“Hello, this is inspector [Last Name]. I need to review the documents that Inspector Rodriguez had borrowed on the night he was killed.”
.
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“Good evening, Chrollo.”- The bells rang as you pushed the door, disrupting the serene atmosphere of the bar. As usual, he was standing at the counter, wearing a smile on his face as he worked.
“It looks like you are in a good mood, [First].”- Chrollo chimed in.
Taking a seat at your usual spot, you took a look at the surroundings. Tonight, you had visited unusually early so there were only the two of you in this building. If Chrollo had noticed anything then he must have kept it to himself.
“Yeah, things have been going smoothly lately.”- You gave him a soft smile as you went on.
This time, he didn’t reply but turned his back to you, busying himself with the numerous glasses and bottles of liquor.
“So, Chrollo, I hear that on a day before of Mr. Sawyer’s death, he went to your bar to drink?”- You questioned
Still as calm as ever, he replied:
“Yes, your colleague went and asked me the same question. And I have given him Mr. Sawyer’s receipt.”
“So, on the night of the murder, did you meet him?”- You pressed on but Chrollo still remained unaffected.
“I didn’t meet him but I did go out. However, it was only to buy supplies for the bar.”
You didn’t ask anymore since you had already got the answer you were searching for.
“Liar!”
The cold barrel of the gun pointed straight at the back of the man you once considered a close friend. Yet, during the whole conversation and even at this moment, he still remained undisturbed, as if today was just another day at work. Then, he slowly turned around, for the first time this evening, his eyes met yours. Rather than the usual panic or the fear of having your life on the line, you could spot a glint in his eyes. It was amusement, along with anticipation, like this was just a game of hide and seek between children. That alone was enough to make the bile in your stomach rise.
After what felt like an eternity, he spoke up:
“Then, Ms. Detective, what made you believe so?”
“It was the receipt that you have so confidently given to us.”
He hummed, urging you to continue:
“ A few weeks ago, the government applied a new tax on alcohol. Therefore, all bars and liquor stores had to raise their products’ price. But here, the cost for a glass of Absinthe was the same as those in earlier dates. You have successfully misguided everyone with your trick.”
Not waiting for Chrollo’s reply, you carried on:
“Mr. Sawyer is a regular at your place and a heavy drinker. If you denied knowing him, it would raise suspicion. The same would happen if you said that he didn’t come to the bar. So, forging evidence to show you met him while not putting you into the police’s radar was the only choice.”
While you were talking, his eyes still gazed at you. The same tender and soft gaze that you had caught a glimpse at. Why did you look at me like that? Why did you look at me with those eyes? You wanted to scream, to grab him by the collar and yell. With those unwavering eyes, he asked you:
“Since when did you notice?”
It took every cell in your being to not pull the trigger. Instead, you only gritted your teeth, the hand holding the gun had gradually turned red
“The night when I went to drink at your place, I noticed something amiss. It was the absence of the bottle of Absinthe - Mr.Sawyer’s usual drink. For someone as meticulous as you are, I doubt you would make a mistake like that. That is, unless you have already known that he wouldn’t be able to come here anymore.”
And then, Chrollo laughed, a hearty laugh. His shoulders were shaking as a hand covered his mouth. After a while, he finally regained his composure.
“You are even more than what I expected, [Fir-
“Do not call me by my name!”-You could not contain your anger anymore. What part of you that felt hesitated when pointing a gun to him had already died.
“Answer me. Why did you kill Mr. Sawyer?”
After you mentioned the case of Mr. Sawyer, in a blink of an eye, the warm and tender feelings in his eyes felt a tad too hollow and you shivered. It was the same as that time, when you met Hisoka in his bar. You wondered if that was the kind of face he had worn when killing others?
“Maybe because he had nothing to do with me.”- He just stated it as if that was as obvious as the fact that the sun rises in the morning and the moon rises at night.
“So you murdered Viktor for the same reason?”
“No, it because he had something to do with me that I have to kill him”
Not waiting for you to voice your confusion, Chrollo continued:
“I really enjoyed this game of cat and mouse with you. So when someone threatened to ruin the game, I couldn’t allow that, could I? Let’s say I was tying up loose ends.”
Whatever resolve you had built up before cracked. What the hell? Was everything, the grief of those who had lost their loved ones, sleepless nights spent racking your brain through every single report about the lives he had taken, just a mere game to him? The anger swelling within your heart was screeching, threatening to dig its claw into the face of the man before you and rip his smile off. After everything, how could a monster like you could go on and act like it was nothing but dirt on your shoes? Thoughts invaded your mind, but you could only whisper: “Why?”. Then, Chrollo even had the gut to act surprise
“ And I thought I have made my feelings for you clear after all this time. But I don’t mind repeating it again. Because I am fond of you.”
This time, it was your time to be astonished. Did he just confess to you? As if sensing your hesitation, Chrollo proceeded to talk in that same tone:
“Dearest, believe me when I said I really enjoyed our time together. You were a valued individual to me and even I couldn’t find myself to leave you alone, not when knowing that someone might come to you when I look away.
.
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So what is your choice, Ms. Detective”- He offered you. You used to think that he looked ethereal. But the Devil always made himself beautiful to lure in unfortunate souls.
The endearment cringed you out. You didn’t accept his hand nor did you refuse it. Instead, you only strengthened the hand holding the gun, your brows furrowed, eyes pierced straight at Chrollo. Having got your answer, he only chuckled:
“Of course, you wouldn’t. That’s what I love about you. Had you agreed, it would have been disappointing. Though, it does sound appealing when you choose me voluntarily.”
Maybe, had this been one of those nights, you would have found your heart pounding wildly in your chest, eyes crinkling in delight as you laughed off his flirtations. But, it wasn’t. Instead of holding and enjoying a glass of mojito, you were holding a gun against Chrollo.
“Though, I must ask. What would you do if I refused to acknowledge your accusations, [First].”- He mused
“I will corner you until you admit it. Surely, there are others beside you.”
“Then, I’m afraid that won’t happen.”- He said sheepishly. Not waiting for your response, he announced
“...For you are coming with me.”
A hand outstretched to you. Every nerve in your system was telling you to fight or flee. Not wasting any second, two gunshots rang simultaneously. But, instead of injuring Chrollo like you had intended, only the sound of broken glass scattered across the floor and he was nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to turn around, a weight was put onto your back.
Thud!
With one swift movement, the gun in your hand was easily thrown away. You tried to resist, only to be hit back with inhumane strength. Working in the police department for years, you had your fair share of experience when dealing with uncooperative criminals. And now, Chrollo could singlehandly turn you facing him and slam you onto the counter, forcing a wince past your lips
“Love, I would rather you didn’t resist too much.”- He said and at the corner of your eyes, you caught sight of two pointy teeth. Or to be more precise, his fangs. Seeing your dumbfounded expression, he laughed again, his voice rung in your ears
Wait, what? So all this time, the man who you thought as your friend turned out to be something not even human?
Discarding all the questions in your head, you knew that if you didn’t act quickly, everything you had built up would crumble. Don’t be distracted, [First]. Just hang on for a few minutes and-
“Before going here, you have contacted the police, right?”
You could only freeze up as Chrollo guessed your plan. Suddenly, it all felt like the time when everything around you was still a mystery. No matter what you did, he would always be two steps ahead. How foolish of the mouse to think that it had escaped just because it couldn’t see the claws of the cat.
“I would like to talk to you more but it seems we don’t have much time to spare.”
As Chrollo explained, his head descended to your neck, breath fanning over your collarbone. He pressed featherlight kisses to a spot before biting into it. The coldness of his lips did nothing to soothe the pain of his fangs pierced through your skin. Then, your blood slowly flowed through your wound and down his throat. As you lost more blood, your consciousness gradually slipped away. You didn’t know when Chrollo had removed his hands from your wrists to wrap them around your back but it didn’t matter. For you, the coldness of his hand and the absence of heartbeat only served to remind you of a shackle, one that probably would probably never loosen and you doubt that he cared. You only had yourself to blame as the world around you darkened. Before you passed out, you could feel a lingering kiss pressed onto your eye lids.
“Sweet dreams, [First].”
And, with that, both of you disappeared into the night.
Interactions: “What would you do, were I to drive a knife into your heart?"
Pairing: Yandere! Chrollo × Reader
Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, mentions of murder, etc.
The question came from a sense of curiosity, just to see how he would react, just to see what he would do.
Chrollo averted his eyes from the book with a name you couldn't fathom to pronounce, presumably stolen in one of the Troupe's heists. At that moment, jet black pupils were set solely on you, giving you his utmost attention.
“But could you do it, though?”. His voice was light, bordering on teasing.
“C'mon. Just indulge me, will you? Besides, if I truly intended on stabbing you, I would rather do it in your sleep.” You could tell he wasn't offended by it since it didn't take much to understand that any physical defiance against Chrollo would be futile ( an unpleasant and hard-learned fact )
A laugh, this time, though his hand was quick to cover it.
"Don't get me wrong, dear. I am aware of the fact that if pushed enough, even the most docile puppy would bite back. While I don't doubt your capability to fight but first kill has never been easy.”
Chrollo set the book aside, but his eyes had never once left yours.
"You could never take someone'sp life without giving up something of yourself in return, no? But then, could you really call yourself, or rather, what's left of you, you?"
A hand reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. It felt cold but he didn't retreat, the coldness lingering on your face was too surreal for a normal person.
"Don't worry, love. Call me anything you wilI but were you to plunge a knife through my chest, I would die a happy man knowing that I have taken an irreplaceable part of you with me.”
“You're unsalvageable.” You tried to jab him with your elbow. As though amused by your reaction, a hand snaked itself around your shoulder, pulling you closer.
Snacks are a delight that you have grown to be inseparable from. Despite the health risks that your mother constantly warned you about, the sweetness from the artificial sugar was enough to ebb away the bitterness that life has to offer. It’s the one thing from your former life that you held onto.
So when Chrollo took you out for a grocery trip, you could not help but run to the snack aisle like an overly excited kid. The faint taste of candies felt so surreal in your mouth that you could barely contain yourself. Hell, you were almost tempted enough to kiss your captor. Had you slowed down a little bit at that moment; maybe you would have seen the sly look on Chrollo’s face when you were at the cashier counter.
The consequences of your action would come back to haunt you days later, during one of your movie nights together ( a routine which Chrollo insisted on), you are sitting next to him, the sugary treat resting in your hand as the movie - a clichéd romance- goes on. Subtly but swiftly, a pair of arms snakes around your waist, hauling you onto his lap.
“After all the trouble I went through to get you this, don’t you think I deserve a little treat, dear?”. His chin rests on your shoulder, a cheshire-like grin appears on his feature.
Is he asking you to hand-feed him for real?! For your confirmation, Chrollo only gives you a light squeeze. The piece of candy in your mouth tastes like ash now.
“What do you say, love?”
Hm… Which one out of these would be the easiest to choke on?
Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Imprisionment, etc.
Word counts: ~ 800 words
You’ve always loved Blade’s swordsmanship.
Whenever he wields the sword, each strike and swing is done in ways which could only be sharpened by years if not centuries of experience, as though the art of combat is deeply engraved in the essence of his soul. Watching him fight has never failed to leave you in awe. Glints of gold and red from the cracked sword would fly disorientedly, painting a granter picture of the dark haired man, captivating those who come across it. You struggle to hold a sword upright, let alone trying to swing it, while Blade, being more evidently effortless to do it, is patient enough to be your mentor (after a lot of consistent begging on your part and blunt rejections from his side, of course). However, your apprenticeship ended when you somehow managed to injure yourself under his supervision. It felt surreal to watch him fight, facile but meticulous nonetheless.
You have always loved Blade’s swordsmanship, just until you see yourself at the receiving end of it.
For someone who has such a sharp sense in fighting, Blade can be surprisingly dense in other matters, especially when it comes to technology or romance. How could a person fully aware of the sharpness of his sword while remaining painfully oblivious to how lethal his love can get? This remains as a conundrum to you as you find yourself becoming the focus of Blade’s orbit. And like a star, his presence never leaves your eyesight, and yet, he never makes an attempt to draw close to you.
“Bladie might seem crude but he is actually far softer than he would like to admit. Don’t worry, dear. Everything will be in fate’s favor”
Kafka had said that with a tone nonchalant enough to make you doubt the genuity of which.
Now, looking back at it, you cannot help but wonder if she had foreseen this turn of event. Being a devoted follower of Yaoshi, like many others, you had prayed and was granted the ability to heal others, to relieve their pain. Still, how could you fix someone who have already been disintegrated and rebuilded far too many times? Blade is someone who has got used to being broken down and he knows that when you are broken into pieces, you would never recover fully, some small parts of you will be forever lost to the raging mara insides, for better or worse. Therefore, he latches onto you, hoping that some pieces of you would suffice for what he lost. Maybe that is what Kafka has seen. And yet, you convince yourself to believe otherwise but for whose sake, you wonder.
You cannot fathom how much you have come to hate Blade’s swordsmanship.
.
.
Captivity could do so much to one’s mind and you could already feel its claws at the back of your mind. Days after days spent cooped up in the four walls of your room, staring through the glass panel that separated you from the universe. How long had you been on this ship? Weeks… or months? Which star out of thousands if not endless of star systems out there is your home? The past few hours had been you screaming and crying with Blade standing at the doorway.
“Why can’t you just let me go, Blade? What quality do I have that make you deem it fair to pluck me out of my life?”
“I cannot guarantee that my answer will satisfy you.” His expression changed for a moment, fleeting but not go unnoticed
“In my wrenching existence, you are the one that makes everything more worthwhile. This is what I could do in order to prevent you from getting hurt.”. Both of you know that was a lie. Everything has always been more to his whims than yours, though he refused to believe it. Had it not been for his self restraint, his mara might have devoured you whole.
“So you think it is better to let me rot in the dark than to lead a normal life?”. Your voice was filled with bitterness; tears were rolling down your cheeks and your eyes were puffy. You couldn’t even imagine what you must have looked like anymore.
“I can give you anything else but what you truly desire… I cannot give”.
As you looked into the eyes that you once did with such loving intent, there was only sorrow, but never regret for what he had done. You would claw those scarlet irises out of his socket if it meant that he would feel a modicum of your affliction. Nevertheless, knowing Blade, he would gladly let you do just that.
At that, you could only sob in response.
.
.
After everything, you have realized Blade’s swordsmanship was never glamorous nor scrupulous as you elucidate it to be, you have just been at his mercy from the start, spared from the sharp end of his sword; and that was truly the cruelest atrocity Blade is capable of.
Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Imprisionment, etc.
Word counts: ~ 800 words
You’ve always loved Blade’s swordsmanship.
Whenever he wields the sword, each strike and swing is done in ways which could only be sharpened by years if not centuries of experience, as though the art of combat is deeply engraved in the essence of his soul. Watching him fight has never failed to leave you in awe. Glints of gold and red from the cracked sword would fly disorientedly, painting a granter picture of the dark haired man, captivating those who come across it. You struggle to hold a sword upright, let alone trying to swing it, while Blade, being more evidently effortless to do it, is patient enough to be your mentor (after a lot of consistent begging on your part and blunt rejections from his side, of course). However, your apprenticeship ended when you somehow managed to injure yourself under his supervision. It felt surreal to watch him fight, facile but meticulous nonetheless.
You have always loved Blade’s swordsmanship, just until you see yourself at the receiving end of it.
For someone who has such a sharp sense in fighting, Blade can be surprisingly dense in other matters, especially when it comes to technology or romance. How could a person fully aware of the sharpness of his sword while remaining painfully oblivious to how lethal his love can get? This remains as a conundrum to you as you find yourself becoming the focus of Blade’s orbit. And like a star, his presence never leaves your eyesight, and yet, he never makes an attempt to draw close to you.
“Bladie might seem crude but he is actually far softer than he would like to admit. Don’t worry, dear. Everything will be in fate’s favor”
Kafka had said that with a tone nonchalant enough to make you doubt the genuity of which.
Now, looking back at it, you cannot help but wonder if she had foreseen this turn of event. Being a devoted follower of Yaoshi, like many others, you had prayed and was granted the ability to heal others, to relieve their pain. Still, how could you fix someone who have already been disintegrated and rebuilded far too many times? Blade is someone who has got used to being broken down and he knows that when you are broken into pieces, you would never recover fully, some small parts of you will be forever lost to the raging mara insides, for better or worse. Therefore, he latches onto you, hoping that some pieces of you would suffice for what he lost. Maybe that is what Kafka has seen. And yet, you convince yourself to believe otherwise but for whose sake, you wonder.
You cannot fathom how much you have come to hate Blade’s swordsmanship.
.
.
Captivity could do so much to one’s mind and you could already feel its claws at the back of your mind. Days after days spent cooped up in the four walls of your room, staring through the glass panel that separated you from the universe. How long had you been on this ship? Weeks… or months? Which star out of thousands if not endless of star systems out there is your home? The past few hours had been you screaming and crying with Blade standing at the doorway.
“Why can’t you just let me go, Blade? What quality do I have that make you deem it fair to pluck me out of my life?”
“I cannot guarantee that my answer will satisfy you.” His expression changed for a moment, fleeting but not go unnoticed
“In my wrenching existence, you are the one that makes everything more worthwhile. This is what I could do in order to prevent you from getting hurt.”. Both of you know that was a lie. Everything has always been more to his whims than yours, though he refused to believe it. Had it not been for his self restraint, his mara might have devoured you whole.
“So you think it is better to let me rot in the dark than to lead a normal life?”. Your voice was filled with bitterness; tears were rolling down your cheeks and your eyes were puffy. You couldn’t even imagine what you must have looked like anymore.
“I can give you anything else but what you truly desire… I cannot give”.
As you looked into the eyes that you once did with such loving intent, there was only sorrow, but never regret for what he had done. You would claw those scarlet irises out of his socket if it meant that he would feel a modicum of your affliction. Nevertheless, knowing Blade, he would gladly let you do just that.
At that, you could only sob in response.
.
.
After everything, you have realized Blade’s swordsmanship was never glamorous nor scrupulous as you elucidate it to be, you have just been at his mercy from the start, spared from the sharp end of his sword; and that was truly the cruelest atrocity Blade is capable of.
Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Obsession, etc.
Word count: 2500+ words
For many things, Chrollo has never regretted the path he had taken.
He himself, like a phantom, exists only on the verge of hushed rumors and whispers of others, if there was anyone lucky enough to be alive to tell the tale after an encounter with the Troupe. To be vulnerable means to be seen, and to be seen will allow you to be hunted. Maybe that’s why he had chosen such a befitting title for the Troupe for it is only common for a phantom to remain in the dark, committing atrocities without the knowing of others.
He had thought that the picture that he had meticulously painted since the time when his name is the only thing he owns, a picture in which he is the greatest villain, spreading terrors to those who dare to cross paths with him or the Troupe, would last until the end of time. Or so he had thought, until you came.
.
.
The weather during autumn always feels chilly in this city, not enough to be cold, but enough to leave a tingling sensation on your skin. A breeze blows past, causing the leaves from the nearby maple trees to fall and coating the road with different shades of orange and red in the process. As a child, you would excitedly scurry off to the nearest pile of maple leaves before jumping into one, claiming to be making an angel out of the leaves when your mother scolded you for dirtying your clothes. All while your father laughed at the oddly familiar scene. It is a perfect day to-
“Excuse me, miss!”. Woken from your daydreaming, you turn around to see the owner of the voice. A charming young man dressed in a beige trench coat, coupled with a turtleneck. A distinguishing feature you notice from him is the bandana wrapping around his forehead. As you realize that you have been staring at him quite long enough to be considered rude, you try to make up a respond when he continues
“Sorry to disturb you from your thoughts. I have been trying to find a way to the gallery and it seems that I haven’t gotten any luck in that. Perhaps you could show me the way? If it isn’t such a hassle to you of course”
“N-no, not at all. It seems like we were heading to the same direction after all. I could just show you the way there, if you don’t mind”.
Luckily, the man seems to not mind as he nods and begins following you. On the way, you would make sure to occasionally turn around to check up on him (which is absolutely unnecessary since he could easily outrun you if he wanted to). When it is only a few blocks away from the exhibition, the man behind you suddenly speaks up
“No matter how much you look at it. Rembrandt’s works always a sight to behold, right?”
A warm voice erupts from behind, attempting to break the silence and likely to prompt you into a conversation. You turn around just to see him gesturing toward a page about the information on the artist of the brochure occupying your hand. Normally, your shyness would come out at the worst of times, usually stirring you away by a nod of the head or a simple reply, not to be rude in others’ eyes but enough to let them know your intention. Maybe he was trying to break the awkward atmosphere between the two of you, but somehow, there is something about him that makes thought of a short conversation doesn’t sound too bad, you even feel a bit giddy. You aren’t particularly cut out for art nor did you exceptionally good at guessing the subtle meaning behind each picture, but it does feel nice to have someone you could share your interest to, even for a short time.
“Well, it always has been. However, I actually have a different interest in mind when I come here”
“Oh, and what is that? Do tell”. You swear if you turn your back at the right time you could see how his eyes glimmer with a hint of curiosity, how his smile seems to widen a little more.
“To be honest, I am not an encyclopedia of arts or am I in a place to be judging others’ works. But, truthfully, I have found myself more attracted to a work of John Everett Millias- "The Blind Girl”. You say sheepishly as heat slowly rises to your cheeks.
“There is no need to be shy about that. Must I say, you have quite an exquisite taste. Usually, when it comes to arts, people tend to associate with more universal names like Rembrandt or Salvador. So, it is quite refreshing to see someone who’s also on the same page as me”. His eyes crinkles as he goes on.
You don’t know what spurs you on at that moment, maybe it’s the calming, unjudging demeanor of the stranger before you or maybe it’s the enthusiasm when someone shares the same interest with you. Either way, you have unconsciously found yourself strolling right next to him rather than marching forward.
“Yeah! People tend to be misguided when first looking into it. The painting seems to depict a normal couple of sisters enjoying the vibrant nature around them. Rather, it’s actually an allegory of the contrast between the blinded and the sighted. You can see that the younger girl shields away from the sun while her sister relishs in it, holding herself at a complete standstill just to enjoy the beauty of what surrounds her. If you take a closer look into-”
You quickly stop when it dawns on you what you are doing.
“Ah… Sorry if that was too much; I t-tend to get carried away when it comes to things like this-”
Great! You’ve done it again, you’ve probably scared off the poor man. It’s almost like a routine for you by now. You would meet someone and; you would proceed to overshare your hyperfixation on things to the said person and then; they would be weirded out and leave. At the end, you only have yourself to blame before going on and making the same mistake all over again. You just hope that there is a hole nearby so you could jump down and possibly live there for the rest of your life, maybe change your name in the process. But, you know that’s not gonna be the case and if you’re lucky, maybe he will at least be polite enough to continue to accompa-
“Please, don’t concern yourself over trivial matters. If anything, you are undermining yourself, dear.”
The endearment just rolled off his tongue with ease, like he was addressing a friend rather than a stranger. It’s a wonder how one’s mental state could drastically change in one single moment. Suddenly, the weather feels incredibly stifling despite it being mid-autumn; Has your cheeks always been this warm?
As though bemused by your stammering, he goes on
“Even so, what further entices me is why you happen to be so fascinated by the painting. Would you view it in the same light again, knowing that might be a pure act of compassion toward the fate of the two sisters?”
A soft smile appears on your face, taking away the place where a frown once resided. Instead of being offended, you find yourself unusually relaxed around him
“Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Honestly, I don’t know either.” A breathless laugh left your mouth and at the corner of your eyes, you could see his brows are burrowed, likely confused at your answer.
“Be it a doing of my sympathy or just a passing interest. When I look at the painting, it feels like my mind, which has always been at an impasse, could progress toward something now.” You pause for a moment before going on
“While it is good to have common ground, but not because of which should you confine yourself to what others view. Anyways, I could never find myself getting bored of this.”
A heartfelt laugh erupts besides you, rich in the sincerity that catches you off guard. You turn your head and something ridiculous passes your mind in that moment.
It feels as if the young man before you was a child whose smile is just as carefree as he is
The thought doesn’t stay in your mind for long as the outline of your destination begins to appear, prompting the end of your time together. This time, you don’t even bother to hide the disappointment lying behind your voice.
“ Oh… it seems like we’re here. Well, I hope that you enjoy your visit here. It was nice talking to you.”
The man extends his hand to you before speaking up
“While I am here with the intention to visit this exhibition alone, it appears that I might not completely have a grasp around here. So, would my current tour guide be interested in accompanying me for a while longer?”
There is a nagging feeling at the back of your mind. You should be more careful but you don’t care. The offer stands as tempting as that of a siren calling out for any sailors unfortunate enough to cross and for once, you want to feel what it like to have your head submerged in water, to reach out for more while you drown in the sweet voice of the monstrous being.
You reach out, placing your hand in his. His hand is calloused, a contrast to his immaculate face. He gives your hand a few tender squeezes, your hand fits perfectly in his.
“Well, if you are willing to hear a whole ramble on paintings, then that is. But before that, can you tell me your name? It would be weird to not know your name, considering all the time we spent together.”
The name spilled out from his name rings like a bell in your head. But whether it is for a blessing or a bad omen remains a mystery to you.
“Chrollo-”
“Chrollo Lucilfer”
.
.
Chrollo has never been one for closer connections, maybe the closest he has ever been to anyone was when he was younger, when the hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow were still beating in his chest. But even the foolest would know that innocence equals vulnerability in Meteor City, a deadly one at least. What started at a normal interaction- where you help him and he will be on his merry way- quickly spiraled into something more. Even Shizuku noticed his shift in demeanor. It’s quite reasonable when it’s not a common occurance to see the head of the infamous Phantom Troupe- a ruthless criminal who is nothing but a nightmare, the devil’s incarnate in the tales of even the cruelest criminals, to be head over heels towards a normal civilian. He has traveled far and wide and yet, he rarely lingers on for long. Nonetheless, the mere thought of someone other than him might come across you, soaking in the warmth and vibrancy you have to offer like a sponge irks him greatly. The possessive nature of a thief runs deep in his blood. A credo through which he has devotedly followed, ingrained on every single molecule that forms his very essence. If he wants something then he steals it. Anything that falls under his possessions are meant to be admired from a distance not to be leered at, and not he himself could make an exception for you. While Chrollo is no halfwitted to not realize that letting you as you be there would always be someone, far better than him, to come in and swoop you up your feet when he has to part for one of his ‘ business trip’ , he is not cruel enough to strip away your freedom, at least not for now. He would like for you to remain your individuality for a while longer and captivity could do so much to one’s mental state. While it is just an inevitable bump of your relationship, it is not one that could be easily smoothed over with kisses and comforts.
Chrollo is not a sentimental person, but he would go as far as to say he has become quite fond of the gesture where couples would wear matching items. It gives a profound message that you are off limits, lest anyone who are dense enough, well, they could try. His gestures are subtle, but not obscure, a keen eye will be able to spot one or two, which usually under the form of the choker wrapping around your neck or the form-fitting black dress that seems to suit his taste more than yours. He wonders how much he can imprint on you, how much he can steal before you notice or would you ever be aware of his tendency at all. Give him an inch and he would take a mile, once you give your heart to him, you could never expect to receive it back without giving up a few parts of you to him.
Throughout his journey, Chrollo has his fair share of experiences with others, through which he has learned how to gouge out the worst in people. Humans are just a combination of different components linked together and each requiring a unique blueprint. Treading the water carefully, using the right combination of words and as though every part is laid bare before him. While Chrollo uses this ability to see the worst in order, you, on the other hand, use it to see the best, to put back the mangle parts of the said people he always inclined to break. Despite your timid nature, you seem to hold more than you view, for better or worse. In a way, he would go as far to say you and him are so alike in many ways, and yet, so acutely different at the same time.
Nostalgic is an unfamiliar term as well as a foreign experience to him. What’s there to long for when there is already nothing to begin with? And normalcy is impossible for him, with the fall of his friends, the blood on his hand; with everything that he has gone through, Chrollo knows there will never be a day when he is able to rest. Domesticity is a privilege you made possible for him with what you have got. And for that, it will be your downfall. His past experiences have taught him to cling as tightly as possible to what dear to him. So even if you end up with a few scratches and bruises, if his hand ends up bloody in the process, nothing won’t be resolved with consolations, which will serve as your comfort and your eternal sentence.
So, even if the path he has chosen is one leading straight to hell then so be it. He will gladly drag you down with him, even if it means the gate to your eden will be shut forever.
Warnings: Yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Obsession, etc.
Word count: 2500+ words
For many things, Chrollo has never regretted the path he had taken.
He himself, like a phantom, exists only on the verge of hushed rumors and whispers of others, if there was anyone lucky enough to be alive to tell the tale after an encounter with the Troupe. To be vulnerable means to be seen, and to be seen will allow you to be hunted. Maybe that’s why he had chosen such a befitting title for the Troupe for it is only common for a phantom to remain in the dark, committing atrocities without the knowing of others.
He had thought that the picture that he had meticulously painted since the time when his name is the only thing he owns, a picture in which he is the greatest villain, spreading terrors to those who dare to cross paths with him or the Troupe, would last until the end of time. Or so he had thought, until you came.
.
.
The weather during autumn always feels chilly in this city, not enough to be cold, but enough to leave a tingling sensation on your skin. A breeze blows past, causing the leaves from the nearby maple trees to fall and coating the road with different shades of orange and red in the process. As a child, you would excitedly scurry off to the nearest pile of maple leaves before jumping into one, claiming to be making an angel out of the leaves when your mother scolded you for dirtying your clothes. All while your father laughed at the oddly familiar scene. It is a perfect day to-
“Excuse me, miss!”. Woken from your daydreaming, you turn around to see the owner of the voice. A charming young man dressed in a beige trench coat, coupled with a turtleneck. A distinguishing feature you notice from him is the bandana wrapping around his forehead. As you realize that you have been staring at him quite long enough to be considered rude, you try to make up a respond when he continues
“Sorry to disturb you from your thoughts. I have been trying to find a way to the gallery and it seems that I haven’t gotten any luck in that. Perhaps you could show me the way? If it isn’t such a hassle to you of course”
“N-no, not at all. It seems like we were heading to the same direction after all. I could just show you the way there, if you don’t mind”.
Luckily, the man seems to not mind as he nods and begins following you. On the way, you would make sure to occasionally turn around to check up on him (which is absolutely unnecessary since he could easily outrun you if he wanted to). When it is only a few blocks away from the exhibition, the man behind you suddenly speaks up
“No matter how much you look at it. Rembrandt’s works always a sight to behold, right?”
A warm voice erupts from behind, attempting to break the silence and likely to prompt you into a conversation. You turn around just to see him gesturing toward a page about the information on the artist of the brochure occupying your hand. Normally, your shyness would come out at the worst of times, usually stirring you away by a nod of the head or a simple reply, not to be rude in others’ eyes but enough to let them know your intention. Maybe he was trying to break the awkward atmosphere between the two of you, but somehow, there is something about him that makes thought of a short conversation doesn’t sound too bad, you even feel a bit giddy. You aren’t particularly cut out for art nor did you exceptionally good at guessing the subtle meaning behind each picture, but it does feel nice to have someone you could share your interest to, even for a short time.
“Well, it always has been. However, I actually have a different interest in mind when I come here”
“Oh, and what is that? Do tell”. You swear if you turn your back at the right time you could see how his eyes glimmer with a hint of curiosity, how his smile seems to widen a little more.
“To be honest, I am not an encyclopedia of arts or am I in a place to be judging others’ works. But, truthfully, I have found myself more attracted to a work of John Everett Millias- "The Blind Girl”. You say sheepishly as heat slowly rises to your cheeks.
“There is no need to be shy about that. Must I say, you have quite an exquisite taste. Usually, when it comes to arts, people tend to associate with more universal names like Rembrandt or Salvador. So, it is quite refreshing to see someone who’s also on the same page as me”. His eyes crinkles as he goes on.
You don’t know what spurs you on at that moment, maybe it’s the calming, unjudging demeanor of the stranger before you or maybe it’s the enthusiasm when someone shares the same interest with you. Either way, you have unconsciously found yourself strolling right next to him rather than marching forward.
“Yeah! People tend to be misguided when first looking into it. The painting seems to depict a normal couple of sisters enjoying the vibrant nature around them. Rather, it’s actually an allegory of the contrast between the blinded and the sighted. You can see that the younger girl shields away from the sun while her sister relishs in it, holding herself at a complete standstill just to enjoy the beauty of what surrounds her. If you take a closer look into-”
You quickly stop when it dawns on you what you are doing.
“Ah… Sorry if that was too much; I t-tend to get carried away when it comes to things like this-”
Great! You’ve done it again, you’ve probably scared off the poor man. It’s almost like a routine for you by now. You would meet someone and; you would proceed to overshare your hyperfixation on things to the said person and then; they would be weirded out and leave. At the end, you only have yourself to blame before going on and making the same mistake all over again. You just hope that there is a hole nearby so you could jump down and possibly live there for the rest of your life, maybe change your name in the process. But, you know that’s not gonna be the case and if you’re lucky, maybe he will at least be polite enough to continue to accompa-
“Please, don’t concern yourself over trivial matters. If anything, you are undermining yourself, dear.”
The endearment just rolled off his tongue with ease, like he was addressing a friend rather than a stranger. It’s a wonder how one’s mental state could drastically change in one single moment. Suddenly, the weather feels incredibly stifling despite it being mid-autumn; Has your cheeks always been this warm?
As though bemused by your stammering, he goes on
“Even so, what further entices me is why you happen to be so fascinated by the painting. Would you view it in the same light again, knowing that might be a pure act of compassion toward the fate of the two sisters?”
A soft smile appears on your face, taking away the place where a frown once resided. Instead of being offended, you find yourself unusually relaxed around him
“Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Honestly, I don’t know either.” A breathless laugh left your mouth and at the corner of your eyes, you could see his brows are burrowed, likely confused at your answer.
“Be it a doing of my sympathy or just a passing interest. When I look at the painting, it feels like my mind, which has always been at an impasse, could progress toward something now.” You pause for a moment before going on
“While it is good to have common ground, but not because of which should you confine yourself to what others view. Anyways, I could never find myself getting bored of this.”
A heartfelt laugh erupts besides you, rich in the sincerity that catches you off guard. You turn your head and something ridiculous passes your mind in that moment.
It feels as if the young man before you was a child whose smile is just as carefree as he is
The thought doesn’t stay in your mind for long as the outline of your destination begins to appear, prompting the end of your time together. This time, you don’t even bother to hide the disappointment lying behind your voice.
“ Oh… it seems like we’re here. Well, I hope that you enjoy your visit here. It was nice talking to you.”
The man extends his hand to you before speaking up
“While I am here with the intention to visit this exhibition alone, it appears that I might not completely have a grasp around here. So, would my current tour guide be interested in accompanying me for a while longer?”
There is a nagging feeling at the back of your mind. You should be more careful but you don’t care. The offer stands as tempting as that of a siren calling out for any sailors unfortunate enough to cross and for once, you want to feel what it like to have your head submerged in water, to reach out for more while you drown in the sweet voice of the monstrous being.
You reach out, placing your hand in his. His hand is calloused, a contrast to his immaculate face. He gives your hand a few tender squeezes, your hand fits perfectly in his.
“Well, if you are willing to hear a whole ramble on paintings, then that is. But before that, can you tell me your name? It would be weird to not know your name, considering all the time we spent together.”
The name spilled out from his name rings like a bell in your head. But whether it is for a blessing or a bad omen remains a mystery to you.
“Chrollo-”
“Chrollo Lucilfer”
.
.
Chrollo has never been one for closer connections, maybe the closest he has ever been to anyone was when he was younger, when the hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow were still beating in his chest. But even the foolest would know that innocence equals vulnerability in Meteor City, a deadly one at least. What started at a normal interaction- where you help him and he will be on his merry way- quickly spiraled into something more. Even Shizuku noticed his shift in demeanor. It’s quite reasonable when it’s not a common occurance to see the head of the infamous Phantom Troupe- a ruthless criminal who is nothing but a nightmare, the devil’s incarnate in the tales of even the cruelest criminals, to be head over heels towards a normal civilian. He has traveled far and wide and yet, he rarely lingers on for long. Nonetheless, the mere thought of someone other than him might come across you, soaking in the warmth and vibrancy you have to offer like a sponge irks him greatly. The possessive nature of a thief runs deep in his blood. A credo through which he has devotedly followed, ingrained on every single molecule that forms his very essence. If he wants something then he steals it. Anything that falls under his possessions are meant to be admired from a distance not to be leered at, and not he himself could make an exception for you. While Chrollo is no halfwitted to not realize that letting you as you be there would always be someone, far better than him, to come in and swoop you up your feet when he has to part for one of his ‘ business trip’ , he is not cruel enough to strip away your freedom, at least not for now. He would like for you to remain your individuality for a while longer and captivity could do so much to one’s mental state. While it is just an inevitable bump of your relationship, it is not one that could be easily smoothed over with kisses and comforts.
Chrollo is not a sentimental person, but he would go as far as to say he has become quite fond of the gesture where couples would wear matching items. It gives a profound message that you are off limits, lest anyone who are dense enough, well, they could try. His gestures are subtle, but not obscure, a keen eye will be able to spot one or two, which usually under the form of the choker wrapping around your neck or the form-fitting black dress that seems to suit his taste more than yours. He wonders how much he can imprint on you, how much he can steal before you notice or would you ever be aware of his tendency at all. Give him an inch and he would take a mile, once you give your heart to him, you could never expect to receive it back without giving up a few parts of you to him.
Throughout his journey, Chrollo has his fair share of experiences with others, through which he has learned how to gouge out the worst in people. Humans are just a combination of different components linked together and each requiring a unique blueprint. Treading the water carefully, using the right combination of words and as though every part is laid bare before him. While Chrollo uses this ability to see the worst in order, you, on the other hand, use it to see the best, to put back the mangle parts of the said people he always inclined to break. Despite your timid nature, you seem to hold more than you view, for better or worse. In a way, he would go as far to say you and him are so alike in many ways, and yet, so acutely different at the same time.
Nostalgic is an unfamiliar term as well as a foreign experience to him. What’s there to long for when there is already nothing to begin with? And normalcy is impossible for him, with the fall of his friends, the blood on his hand; with everything that he has gone through, Chrollo knows there will never be a day when he is able to rest. Domesticity is a privilege you made possible for him with what you have got. And for that, it will be your downfall. His past experiences have taught him to cling as tightly as possible to what dear to him. So even if you end up with a few scratches and bruises, if his hand ends up bloody in the process, nothing won’t be resolved with consolations, which will serve as your comfort and your eternal sentence.
So, even if the path he has chosen is one leading straight to hell then so be it. He will gladly drag you down with him, even if it means the gate to your eden will be shut forever.
Boothill - a term indicating the resting place of gunslingers who have fallen and also the name of the silver hair galaxy ranger.
The day when he gave up the flesh and blood which he is blessed with, letting it be melted and molded into refined steel and iron, he wanted to cry in the ancient language of the land he grew up to be so in love with but he couldn’t. And so, his cries were lost, burned to ashes along with what used to be dear to him.
When he met you, Boothill finally found something that he had thought long gone. Someone gazing upon him, except he was no Arcturus. He just a dying star trying to find a constellation where he belongs in this endless universe.
You were, for the lack of a better word, strange. You would often ask him about the most bizzare thing. Boothill still remembers the time when you asked if the bullets would get stuck in his teeth when he swallowed them ( the question had earned you a light smack from him). Even your solicitude was too perplexing for him. On some days, when his mind is plagued with the scorched land on his farm, the ghosts of those who he failed to protect; your hand will ghost over his face, caressing it gently. You would ask him in a soothing tone, not too quiet to go unheard of but not too loud to sound demanding. And when he only gives vague answers, you do not press further but press lingering kisses onto his forehead and he would pull you close, murmuring incomprehensible words into your hair. It was scary but you were there; you were there and it was enough.
You were odd, indeed, but in which ways that he is attracted to at the same time.
Being with you also has taught him to be more observant as well. He would rather die than to admit it but he has unknowingly picked up the habit of watching your tactics. There was something oddly domestic about the way you would hum when you are cooking or the way you would skipping all the way down to your favorite bakery. What have a person grown up with to be so appreciative of what others perceive as the norms?
Gunpowder and iron are what make his essence, always bitter and remorseful. While yours is always vibrant and warm. It is a moth’s nature to be drawn to something bright and shining, even if it will burn them to death. And like a moth to flame, Boothill always finds himself circling back to you no matter how hard he tries to fly away.
For someone who had spent the majority of his life navigating through the vast continent of Aeragan- Epharshel, Boothill finds himself at loss, like a sailor finding his way in the middle of the storm, he is undecided. Some days, he is torn between hiding you in the deepest corner of the galaxy, away from all harm or letting you be as you are. Being with him would sooner or later become your demise and he silently curses himself for this knowledge. If he had been a fool, he would have easily believed that his arms were meant to caress but to chase and hurt under the cover of a man he used to be.
Boothill has never been one to believe in reincarnation. But maybe in another life, where he could finally be a man who grows up with the greenery of the plains he trouts and the endless rivers where the water just as clear as the sky of his hometown , he hopes that in his arms is where you would find comfort and peace, just like he did in yours.
Pairing: Yandere! Kaveh x Reader x Yandere! Alhaitham
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, Mentions of physical abuse, Kidnapping, etc.
Word counts: 563 words
For the longest time, Kaveh has always treated you with utmost care. His touch is always light and gentle, or at least, as gentle as he could. Such delicacy has made you wonder if you were a porcelain doll and he was the artisan, admiring his masterpiece; if you would break when he applied a little too much pressure.
Sweet and caring Kaveh, always willing to wipe your tears when you cry about how much you miss home, but never enough to stand out for you when Alhaitham bends you over the desk and belts you.
Kaveh would bring you little trinkets from his jobs like an exotic flower which only grows in the deserts of Sumeru or a hairpin bought from street vendors. Nevertheless, you know better than to fall for the blonde architect, when he is just as worse as Alhaitham.
Kaveh has no needs for chains like
Alhaitham does when his suffocating hugs and lingering kisses are enough. Any resentment or escape attempts would quickly melt away under his soothing voice and empty promises.
Alhaitham treats you like how one would treat their dog.
Strict and harsh Alhaitham, whose shackles never relent, only suffocatingly tighten around your throat.
“If you are adamant on behaving like an unruly mutt then I ought to treat you as one”. The metal bars of the crate cut into your leg as Alhaitham’s raspy voice echoes the room. The bite mark earlier still burning red on his throat - a proof of your short-lived defiance.
Alhaitham is a man of discipline and order- a reputation well-earned throughout his years working under . You would've found the silver-hair Scribe admirable, if the weight of his affection didn’t feel so heavy. Any sense of normalcy was stripped away from you the day you found yourself in his home, tied up as he explained to you in a stoic tone. His rules are simple, and he expects you to follow them. Eat what he cooks, read the books that he left out for you and follow the schedule that he has set up. It’s only the best for you as Alhaitham put it. Sometimes, you wonder if you were just a stray mutt that he happened to pick up. A dog that could only understand the simplest of commands.
While Kaveh wants a docile thing to dote on, Alhaitham wants a pet that bends to his every whim. You don’t know which is better. Either way, you will always find yourself in the loving arms of your captors.
In Kaveh’s and Alhaitham’s eyes, you remind them of a nightingale. Like a songbird, you would fly from place to place, happily chirping anywhere you please, bringing joy to others with your songs and they were merely a temporary stop that happened to catch your eyes. Naive and oblivious little thing you are. You would happily chirping , unaware of the fox lurking beneath the bushes, waiting for the perfect chance to pounce on you. Such ignorance would be your ultimate demise. The nightingale would be swallowed whole before it even realized.
They couldn’t let that happen to you. But they know that no bird would willingly walk right into its gilded cage. Feelings are only temporary, with the right guidance, you will come around to them eventually.
After all, a nightingale would sing just as beautifully even with a broken wing, right?
