what if the reader tries to escape Chrollo and gets caught and she fears punishment so she tries to seduce him?
Note: this was fun lol. This actually inspired me to write a fic for this too. It goes along with it. I'll be posting it separately since it's pretty long. :)
Chrollo doesn’t let go of his fascinations easily–antique books, Nen abilities, valuable artifacts, and even people—he likes to keep them close. Unfortunately for you, he’s very fascinated with you. You could run to the other side of the world, change your identity, start a whole new life, and he would still find you. He’s fucking relentless. Absolutely nothing can keep you safe from him. Call it love, call it obsession, call it whatever you want, it doesn’t make any difference when you’re trying to get away.
Predictably, your escape failed—and you’re fucking terrified of being punished. Understandably so, Chrollo can be fucking horrifying. But he’s never raised his voice or hand at you, ever. That's not his style. Still, it’s only natural to expect punishment when caught doing something wrong, even though right and wrong is somewhat subjective in this scenario.
I highly doubt Chrollo would be anything less than calm and composed when he catches you. He’s not the type of person to get emotional easily, even in the most unfavorable situations. His calm, charismatic, and methodical approach has always worked for him—why change now? Because he seems somewhat detached for the most part, I don’t think Chrollo would reveal anything he’s thinking or feeling when he confronts you. He wouldn’t be angry or raise his voice, and he definitely wouldn’t act impulsively or resort to physical violence.
The only thing Chrollo would intentionally reveal is his disappointment—with you and your futile attempt at escape. It wouldn’t be genuine, of course. He’s only doing it because he knows the effects it’ll have on you. Depending on the circumstances—his mood at the time, or whether you’ve tried to escape before—he might use subtle threats to make it crystal fucking clear that there’s no escaping him. He tries his best to avoid violence of any kind with you, it's not something he enjoys or feels is necessary. He’d rather hint at the consequences of your actions—not just for you, but for your friends, your family, and anyone involved in your escape.
Chrollo strikes me as the type who would rather make someone fear what could happen than actually carry out a punishment. He might feel like that method provides the best results? Less disobedience and more compliance, without completely breaking someone? Who knows.
Anywayssss. Your fear about being punished for trying to escape wouldn’t surprise Chrollo, he already expected that. But you trying to seduce him would be very surprising, he never expected that. He’d hide his surprise and confusion well, barely letting anything show—maybe just a brief change in his body language, but that's all. Considering the kind of man Chrollo is, he probably wouldn’t want you to know that you had actually managed to throw him off guard, and that definitely influenced his reaction.
I’d imagine that Chrollo’s feelings for you would also play a part in how he’d react to the situation. He is attracted to you, both physically and emotionally, and you trying to seduce him would really test his limits. In his mind, he might be imagining fucking you right then and there, thinking of all the things he could do to you. But he knows better than to act solely on feelings, and prides himself on self-control. During your time together, Chrollo made sure he never crossed any lines with you, understanding the importance of appearing gentlemanly, composed, and caring. He knew that making you feel uncomfortable—more than necessary—would do little good, so he carefully maintained his image. As selfish as it sounds, he did it for himself more than he did it for you.
Chrollo’s also very smart. It wouldn’t take long for him to realize that you’re probably only trying to seduce him so you can avoid being punished. He’s seen people do all sorts of things under the right amount of pressure, but this might be a first. The fact that you’d try to manipulate him—and in that specific way too—was amusing. But he wouldn’t stop you, no, he’d rather sit back and observe for a bit, probably contemplating how to deal with you.
If Chrollo does decide to ‘entertain’ your attempts of seduction, it's because he wants to, not because you succeeded in seducing him. Maybe he’d play along because he wants to see just how far you’d go? Maybe he’s been feeling a little pent up lately, and this is the perfect opportunity to satisfy his needs? Either way, Chrollo never does anything without a purpose.
In this case, Chrollo would use the situation as an opportunity to teach you a lesson. Don’t expect much leniency from him. Running away was a betrayal, and that’s not something he’ll forget, or forgive easily. Still, he can’t help but feel slightly impressed with how you handled the situation. He knows you’re scared, but instead of giving into your fear—like he would’ve expected—you made a cunning move, attempting to manipulate him. And it might have worked, too, if you weren’t trying to manipulate him. But that tiny bit of respect you managed to gain doesn’t mean you’re off the hook from being punished.
If Chrollo does decide to punish you, he wouldn’t be overly cruel with it. Fear can be a great motivator, but he wouldn’t overdo it. He doesn’t want to traumatize you, no, that would only cause more problems for him in the long run. Instead, he’d opt for something subtle and far more effective, something very intimate. Chrollo is no stranger to using unorthodox methods of punishment, and he wouldn’t hesitate in the slightest to employ them if they served his purpose.
Chrollo would intentionally draw out the situation, allowing you to touch and kiss him, while using that sweet voice of yours to whisper some cock-hardening words into his ear. He’d be patient and play along with your game—calmly responding to your advances with some of his own—making you think that you’re winning, but you’re not, and you never will.
He gives you just enough rope to hang yourself with. He’ll let you take the lead, at first. He’ll remain almost passive, his dark eyes tracking your every move, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It’s a test. He’s giving you the rope, watching with detached curiosity to see how you’ll hang yourself with it.
As you're whispering all that filthy shit in his ear, pressing your body against his, he doesn’t just passively take it. He actively rewards you. He plays along. He doesn’t just passively let you grope him. That would be too obvious. Chrollo is a master of performance. He commits to the role.
As your hands tremble while unbuttoning his shirt, he’ll cover them with his own, steadying them. He’ll lean into your desperate kisses, meeting your frantic energy. It feels like acceptance, like he's being won over. He’ll let out a soft hum of approval, a low sound in his chest that vibrates against your lips, making you think, it’s actually working. He is doing the bare minimum to give you the maximum amount of false hope.
When you kiss his neck, a low groan rumbles in his chest. When your hand slips down to grope the front of his pants, his own hand comes up to grip your hip, pulling you closer. “Is this what you want?” he’ll murmur, voice like silk. “To be close to me like this?” He’s giving you positive reinforcement, at the bare min, meticulously crafting this illusion that you're actually getting to him. He wants you to feel like you’ve successfully manipulated Chrollo Lucilfer.
The flip. The goddamn switch. This is where it all changes. It happens when you’re at your most vulnerable—when he’s finally inside you, deep and warm. You’d be riding him, thinking you’ve won, that this is your escape from punishment—moaning his name, nails scratching down his chest, convinced your little seduction’s got him wrapped around your finger.
No big dramatic moment, just a shift in his grip, his fingers suddenly clamping down on your waist to pin you in place, halting your movements mid-thrust. He’ll hold you still, fully impaled on him. You’re balancing on the edge, pussy clenching around him, so fucking close, and he just... stops. His eyes meet yours, that calm detachment back in full force, a smirk curling his lips as he says, casual as anything, “you didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”
“Did you really think this would work?” He’ll ask, his hips giving a single, slow, thrust that’s devoid of any genuine feeling. He’ll start to move again, but the rhythm is all wrong. It’s too fast, too shallow, or too brutally deep, designed for his pleasure and your discomfort. He’ll watch your face, your desperate expression, and his lips will curl into a mild smirk. “You ran from me,” he’ll whisper, each word punctuated by a rough shove of his hips, rolling into you.“You betrayed my trust.” Thrust. “And you thought you could fuck your way out of the consequences?” Thrust. “How naive.”
This is where the real cruelty comes in. He’s going to use your own body against you. He’ll fuck you—with his fingers, his mouth, his cock—and he will be an expert at it. He knows exactly how to drive you up, how to make your breath catch and your toes curl. He’ll pull out just enough to use his thumb to grind mercilessly against your clit while he fucks you. He’ll drive you to the absolute brink, your whole body convulsing, begging to come. You’ll be sobbing, pleading. And just as the wave is about to crash over you, he’ll stop everything. Completely. He’ll pull his thumb away, still his hips, and just hold you there, impaled and trembling, while the orgasm withers and dies inside you.
“Patience,” he’ll murmur, leaning down to kiss you sweetly, a horrifying contrast to the torment he’s forcing you to endure. He’ll do this over and over again. Bringing you to the brink, then snatching it away, until you’re sobbing, a desperate, incoherent mess, begging him to just let you come. He’ll let you recover for a moment before whispering, “let’s try that again,” and start the entire agonizing process over. Leaving you in a constant state of wired, overstimulated agony.
He overstimulates the fuck out of you after the edging, not letting up even when you finally cum, slamming into your oversensitive cunt until you’re writhing, tears streaming, body betraying you with orgasms that border on painful.
In the aftermath, Chrollo doesn’t gloat—he’s too composed for that shit. But the way he holds you close, stroking your hair while your body’s still twitching from the overload, it’s clear. This was his plan all along. You feared punishment, so he gave it to you wrapped in the sex you offered, ensuring you’ll think twice before trying to escape or seduce your way out again.
SUMMARY: it's been two years since you last had a proper conversation with chrollo; seven since the last time the two of you could be considered friends. you don't care to be close to him anymore—or at least, that's what you try to convince yourself, but you don't know how much longer your conviction will hold.
(wordcount: 10.6k, fem!reader, phantom troupe member!reader, angst with happy-ish ending, i took advantage of some things that were left blank (particularly kortopi LOL) for The Plot, reader's pov is a bit hypocritical/contrarian at times but that's intentional, hisoka being hisoka, a bit of a steamy make out sesh)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys ......... be gentle with me it's baby's first steps outside of bsd fandom KADFHAUISHFASUDIFHA ok no i actually had so much fun writing this fic HAHAH it gave me a rlly fun opportunity to dive into a new type of reader. i've always been interested in exploring the trope of like one person feeling left behind as everyone else arounds them changes for the worst, and that person struggling to accept what's happening. this fic gave me the perfect opportunity for it, because we have reader who is watching all of her childhood friends change in such awful ways, and even though she KNEW this was the path they were going down, it's different seeing it. we see how she struggles with trying to figure out if it's them and their actions that have her so upset, or if it's just the fact that she hasn't changed along with them. BUT IT WAS FUN, because i don't often write readers who struggle with morality/understanding their own actions, so this was a fun opportunity for me. ALSOOOOOO i thought it was so fun exploring her and chrollo. i think chrollo's dynamics are SO different depending on when he meets his partner and it was fun exploring that. like this is one avenue where they grow up together and have a deep history & shared past/trauma in meteor city, and conversely, if you've been following my blog, im exploring a relationship dynamic with a reader he meets much later in life (succession contest arc) which is much more . difficult LOL. and i decided to have some fun with kortopi bc 1) we know very little about him / his past and 2) .... the DRAMA AND TRAGEDY knowing what happens after the hisoka-chrollo fight HEHEHEH BUT EITHER WAY there was a lot i got to explore in this and i was very happy with it. AND A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY BELOVED RILEY WAHHHHHHHHH SHE READ OVER THIS FOR ME WHEN I WAS MELTING DOWN ABOUT MY CHROLLO CHARACTERIZATION AND THE PLOT I LOVE U SO DEEPLY RILEY
Chrollo is no longer as he once was.
Your gaze lingers on him as he flips through a book a few feet away from you. The others left for their mission, and you’re going to be left alone with him until they get back. You don’t often see him anymore, careful to keep away unless he specifically asks you to show up for a mission, but every time you do, it always ends the same—with you upset and lost, unsure of what you’re doing and what’s become of the people you loved.
You’ve known he’s been gone for a very long time, but still, when the two of you are alone, you can’t help yourself from looking for the boy you once knew. The one who would bring fresh flowers to the graves at the church, and translated movies for the other children in Meteor City, performing them himself when they no longer could watch them. You think you get glimpses of him when he doesn’t think anyone is around. When the others have all left for missions, and he thinks he’s alone in base, but he’s always quick to school his expression when he realizes that you stayed back.
You’ve known Chrollo Lucilfer for as long as you can remember. One of your first clear memories is of him helping you to your feet after you were tripped by one of the rowdy boys at church. Your knees were bleeding, and you were desperately trying not to cry—you only had one dress that was suitable for church, and it was ripped and bloody, totally ruined. You would never be able to wear it again, and the matron had explicitly told you to take good care of it or she would never let you have first pick from the clothes recovered at the dumping grounds ever again.
Chrollo had made it all right. He did that a lot back then. He helped people. He went out of his way to make sure everyone around him was okay. He had no idea who you were, but he took you to the back of the church anyway and spent three hours helping you wash out the blood from your dress and hand-sewing the rips to make it all good as new. You didn’t talk much and were nervous being around a boy you had never met, but Chrollo was quick to fill the silence, telling you about how he had learned to stitch up his clothes and wash out dirt and grime because he was constantly at odds with other kids in the junkyard city and had no way of getting any others if these were to be ruined.
Bandages were both a commodity and a necessity in Meteor City; those who got injured were prone to infection and death if open wounds came into contact with the many toxins and bacteria found in the dumping grounds. Still, he gave you the last of his and smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it because he was sure he’d find others, and you needed it more than he did in that moment.
It was just who he was. Kind. Giving. Bright. He had given you hope back then. Father Lisores had said it too: he believed that Chrollo could bring a better world to Meteor City because he was so full of light and kindness and spirit. That was why you turned a blind eye to his plans after Sarasa’s death, even when Sheila begged you to come with her and told you that Chrollo and the others were turning into the people that you all hated so much. It was why you followed him when he created the Phantom Troupe, even if you were unsure of its direction and what Chrollo was becoming.
“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly when your staring becomes too obvious.
He doesn’t lift his gaze from his book, but you can tell he’s stopped reading because his eyes are no longer flitting from line to line. This isn’t the first time he’s tried to talk to you in the past few years. Usually, you’ll pretend you didn’t hear him, and he won’t press again, taking your silence as the rejection that it was, but this time, you find yourself hesitating.
“Do you remember how we first met?” you question, tracing patterns with your shoe against the dusty floors of the abandoned building the Troupe has claimed as a base for its most recent mission. You notice the way his eyes widen slightly when he realizes you’ve decided to answer him this time, but he’s quick to hide it.
“Of course,” he murmurs. He flips to the next page of his book even though you know very well he hasn’t read the last. You almost roll your eyes, but refrain. “One of the most defining moments of my life.”
You let out a sharp puff of air that’s too scornful to be considered a laugh, turning your head away. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not,” he replies so seriously that it makes your throat swell. You can’t bear to lift your gaze to look at him, so you keep it trained on the ground instead. “Our first meeting changed a lot for me.”
“I think about it a lot,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “When we were kids. Everything was so…. different.”
You want to say easier, but the word doesn’t feel right on your tongue. There was nothing easy about growing up in Meteor City, even compared to what your life has become. Death was too imminent a threat when you were far too young, and you became well acquainted with loss and mourning before the first smile ever reached your lips.
It was not easier, but it was different.
“You were so scared back then,” he muses, and your gaze flickers up to see the faint smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “You latched onto me after we met. Hid behind me when the other kids would badger you for the trinkets you collected. Made me shoo them all away for you.”
You find yourself snorting despite yourself, and you lift your hand to your lips to hide your smile. “I did not latch onto you. And I was not scared.”
You did and were. You remember it vividly. You hated confrontation with the other kids, and Chrollo was quick to try to protect the people around him, even at the cost of himself, so you hung around him in hopes of him intervening when they came to try to get you to give up the things you collected from the junkyard. You’re sure that he knew what you were doing, but he still stepped in on your behalf every time. Even if it usually ended with him being pummeled by someone bigger and stronger than him—at least until Sheila and Sarasa started stepping in.
“You definitely did,” he disagrees. “In fact, you clung to the back of my shirt so much that you ripped holes in it.”
“Liar,” you accuse, but you’re smiling.
“Not at all,” he says, and his eyes are glittering in a way that’s achingly familiar as he finally looks up at you. His expression is soft, and his lips are curved up, but he looks so sad that it makes your chest hurt. “Do you remember how you would sneak into my room at the orphanage?”
“The matrons would get so mad at me,” you agree.
You never liked sleeping alone—not back then, and not now. You’re distant with Chrollo now, but Pakunoda often shares a room with you because she knows about your frequent night terrors and anxiety being alone, and when she can’t, Machi or Kortopi will. They all know how you feel about being alone, so they’re careful to make sure that you’re not. Although they don’t like anyone pointing that out because they hate being seen as soft, even by their friends, so they’ll often mask their decision with a complaint about how the others are being annoying, so they’re going to relax with you instead.
“I had to smooth-talk you out of trouble every time,” he adds. “Otherwise, you would’ve been stuck scrubbing the floors for weeks.”
“I felt safe with you,” you say quietly after a moment of silence. Chrollo pauses at your words, lips pressing together as he looks back down at his book. “You were so bright, Chrollo. Everyone gravitated toward you.”
He doesn’t respond for a while. You don’t really expect him to. A strange expression crosses his face as he stares at the pages he isn’t reading, and you let out a soft breath as you look to the side, out the open window to the night sky. The others are all out completing their assigned mission—a grand heist against one of the elder Kakin princes that will certainly end in mass death and tragedy. You try not to think about it. Your role isn’t involved with carrying out Chrollo’s schemes; you only stick around for the aftermath to make sure everyone is okay, and then you go back to Meteor City with Kortopi until Chrollo calls you back to him for another mission.
Sometimes it’s hard to push out of mind that the more you save your friends, the more you condemn others.
How much blood is on your hands? How many lives could’ve been saved if you prioritized the greater good instead of the people you can’t stop chasing? Every time you pull one of your friends from the edge, you drag countless others to it.
“You don’t anymore?” he asks, an odd tone to his voice as he pointedly keeps his gaze averted from you.
“Hm?” you hum with a frown, glancing back over to him.
“You don’t feel safe with me anymore?” he elaborates, gaze shifting back up to you. You can’t hold his gaze for long; you haven’t been able to in years, and you hate how his expression drops when he realizes that. His lips part like he wants to say something, but then he presses them together again like he’s decided against it.
“I don’t feel unsafe with you,” you answer, and when he’s visibly displeased by your response, you sigh and admit, “I hardly know who you are anymore, Chrollo.”
Chrollo doesn’t answer, but he does frown and turn his head to the side. His lips curve down into a frown, and that unreadable look in his eyes returns. For a second, you can almost imagine that the two of you are back in Meteor City, back when you were young, after Sarasa’s death. He disappeared in the days between finding her body and the funeral, but you found him after hours of searching on the far side of the city, sitting by himself as he stared off into the distance. He had that same look in his eyes then as he does now; you wonder what he’s thinking about.
You’re about to say something else to break the silence when the door to the makeshift base crashes open and draws your attention away. Uvogin bursts into the room, expression twisted and breathing heavily. You rise to your feet, gaze trained on him as you wait for him to speak. Uvogin looks between you and Chrollo briefly before he focuses on you.
“We need you on the field. Kortopi got injured; Machi is using her threads to keep him stable, but they keep unwinding because of whatever ability is affecting him. She can’t keep it up for much longer.”
You glance back at Chrollo, whose brows furrow at Uvogin’s words, but he frowns and says, “Go.”
---------
Kortopi is the youngest member of the Phantom Troupe. He’s not a founding member, only because he was six at the time of its founding, but he’s hung around you all for as long as you can remember. When he was three, his older sister would take him to the shows that the Troupe put on for the children of Meteor City, and when she was killed by infection after being wounded by a stray dog less than a year later, it was you who took him under your wing. You were only twelve yourself, but you promised his sister that you would protect him, and you were adamant on keeping that promise no matter the cost.
For years, he watched the Phantom Troupe from the sidelines, and you realized that you had your job cut out for you. He idolized Chrollo; you can’t really blame him for that, everyone idolized Chrollo, but he spent all of his time desperately trying to master nen so that he could convince Chrollo to let him become a spider. You were against it from the beginning. That was back when you and Chrollo were still close, so you had no issue arguing with him when he told Kortopi that once he mastered a nen ability, he would have a spot with them. He dismissed you every time you tried to bring it up, and he told you that you were being too stubborn and this was the best course of action, and it led to the two of you being on frigid, but not quite hostile terms.
Kortopi was fifteen when Chrollo finally deemed his mastery enough to join, and you were livid over it. Chrollo dismissed you yet again when you raised your concerns, and he reminded you that you, he, Pakunoda, and Machi were all younger when you joined the Troupe. But it was different, you insisted, Kortopi’s sister had been someone you cared deeply about, and she begged you to protect Kortopi for her when she was on her deathbed. Not only that, but Chrollo promised to help you. You’ve raised him since he was four years old—you didn’t want this life for him, you don’t even want it for yourself.
It was your first major argument with him, and it was the first rift that led to the ruin of your friendship. The day Chrollo let Kortopi into the Phantom Troupe was the day you realized he’d changed beyond recognition, and it was the day you stopped clinging to your past with him.
“He’ll be okay?” Uvogin asks gruffly, kneeling behind you.
The rest of the members assigned to this mission are sitting around you, waiting to hear that everything is fine. Or, most of them were—Uvogin, Machi, Nobunaga, and Pakunoda were with you. The other most recent addition to the Troupe is nowhere to be found, naturally. Unease claws at your chest. Chrollo’s decision to let Hisoka Morow into the Phantom Troupe was another that you were very displeased with, but because the two of you have hardly talked in the past two years, you didn’t say anything.
Not that it would matter. Chrollo doesn’t care to take your opinion into account. He made that very much clear when he dismissed you and allowed Kortopi into the Troupe.
“Yeah,” you say quietly, smoothing out the boy’s messy hair. He’s still so young—only seventeen—but he looks even younger with his breath so shallow and his eyes slid shut. Resentment towards Chrollo bubbles in your chest again, but you push it away as you shut your eyes and shake your head. Now isn’t the time for that. “Could you carry him back to base, Uvo?”
“Yup,” the man agrees, shifting closer to you to scoop the small boy up into his arms. His brows furrow in concern as he looks down at you. “You alright getting back?”
“I’ll walk with her,” Pakunoda offers, and Uvogin nods before taking off with Nobunaga. Machi hesitates, casting you a long look before she follows after the two of them. “Are you okay?”
“I told him this would happen,” you say tightly. You don’t need to say who the ‘him’ is—Pakunoda knows better than anyone. She’s been caught between the two of you since the day the tension began seven years ago. “I told him, Paku. If I had been a second later, Machi’s nen would’ve been exhausted and Kortopi would’ve bled out.”
“I know,” Pakunoda replies quietly as you two make your way down the street back in the direction of base. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“How did it happen?” you ask sharply, gaze cutting to the side to look at her. For a second, you feel so angry that it makes you sick because it shouldn’t have happened. Pakunoda instantly gives you a concerned look, making you realize that your rage is seeping into your aura. Instantly, you push it away and clear your throat. “It was a simple mission. You and Kortopi go in for the information and the artifacts while the others pose as other attendees to keep an eye on the two of you in case things go wrong. Except it wasn’t supposed to go wrong. How did it go wrong?”
Pakunoda pauses and then says honestly, “I’m not sure. It was very sudden; everything was fine one moment, and then all hell broke loose. The only reason I wasn’t hit alongside Kortopi was that I reacted faster.”
Your expression twists immediately. “The clown?” you ask, voice low.
“No,” Pakunoda disagrees, shaking her head. When you give her a suspicious look, she continues, “Hisoka seemed just as caught off guard as the rest of us. I think it was the nen ability of the Second Prince or one of her subordinates. They didn’t seem to recognize us, but when it came closer to the time of the heist, it was like they were able to sense when our intentions became more hostile.”
“I don’t like it,” is all you say in response. “We need to make sure all of the cameras around that building are wiped. The last thing we need is one of the Kakin Princes coming down on Meteor City in retaliation for our actions here.”
“That’s if they figure out we’re from there,” Pakunoda replies, but there’s an uncomfortable expression on her face like she knew the risk was there, but didn’t expect it to actually become a possibility.
“Once they figure out there are no official records of our existence, it’ll be quite easy for them to realize where we must come from,” you say dryly, shaking your head. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, Paku. He must realize that operations like this put the city more at risk than anything else. There’s only so long fear tactics will work in preventing intervention. Eventually, they’re going to decide the risks outweigh the benefits of making a statement against us by targeting the city.”
“Then the city will strike back,” Pakunoda replies. “You know the law of retribution. They’re not defenseless. They’ve handled things this way long before we started doing what we’re doing.”
You rub your face in frustration. “The elders retaliate. They deter people from wronging the city by making sure it doesn’t go without consequence. We aren’t retaliating, Paku. We’re instigating. And we’re instigating powerful people, not some knock-off mafia. We’re talking about the Kakin Military and the princes’ personal armies. The elders can retaliate against mafias stealing our kids and other cities for wrongful persecution, but what the hell do you expect them to do when another nation’s military comes down on them?”
Pakunoda says your name with a sigh. This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to have this conversation with one of them, and it always goes the same every time. They’ve changed in the same way Chrollo has, and you don’t know why you haven’t yet, but Pakunoda at least will hear you out. So she’s unfortunately stuck listening to you vent out your frustrations.
“I’m serious,” you continue, stopping in your tracks and folding your arms over your chest. “How far have we deviated from our original goals, Paku? What we’re doing—it’s mindless killing, mindless thieving. This isn’t preventing what happened to Sarasa from ever happening again; we’ve become worse than the people we united against, and we’re not even protecting Meteor City anymore. Do you really think that people are so scared of us that they won’t ever step foot in the city? Because that’s not how the world works, Paku. I know you know that, and I don’t know why we’re all pretending otherwise. Even if they’re scared of us, and they can’t track us down and kill us, they will go to the defenseless and send us a message through them eventually. What we’re doing is not only delaying the inevitable, but each mission of ours is making the inevitable retaliation exponentially worse.”
Pakunoda doesn’t like it when Sarasa is brought up. Her breath gets all shaky, and her voice gets wobbly, so you immediately regret it when you see how the woman cringes and looks away. You immediately avert your gaze to the ground, guilty.
“What do you want me to say?” she asks you quietly.
“I don’t know.” Your voice breaks over the words, and you squeeze your eyes shut to fight the tears. Pakunoda squeezes your forearm gently. “I don’t like what we’ve become, Paku. And I know that Chrollo said this was the direction we would be taking from the beginning, but—I just—it’s just different knowing versus it actually happening. No matter what he could’ve said back then, I never would’ve expected this is where we would be eleven years later.”
The two of you continue down in the direction of your temporary base in silence. You had a bad feeling the moment Chrollo messaged you to tell you there was another mission you were needed for, and even though you know Kortopi is going to be okay, you can’t help but fear for the day he won’t be. That all of them won’t be. Because that’s what has become inevitable now—the only thing left guaranteed is death. For the residents of Meteor City, it has always been a risk that has weighed more heavily than most, but because of who you guys are and what you all have done, it’s going to come sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time before you can’t save them… or yourself.
“It’s not easy on him either, you know?” Pakunoda says softly, and you exhale sharply, looking away. “Don’t be like that. You, of all people, should understand.”
You don’t understand.
That’s what you want to say, at least.
But every time you close your eyes, all you can see is the haunted expression on his face as he looked into the sack that contained Sarasa’s body. The burden he decided to carry on his own when he read whatever was on that note and refused to share it with anyone else, because whatever it said was too horrific for him to bear letting anyone else know. The lack of light in his eyes when he declared to the rest of you what he would do after three years’ time had passed.
You don’t want to understand.
You can’t let yourself believe that the boy he used to be still exists somewhere deep inside of him. Not because you don’t desperately wish to have that boy back, but because the memory of him is too tainted, stained in the blood he’s spilt since casting aside his old self. That sweet boy couldn’t possibly still be here with you. You can’t imagine that the boy who taught you how to read and spent hours scouring the junkyard for the last swan you needed for your collection of bird figures is the very same man who shamelessly broke his promise to you when he allowed Kortopi to join the Troupe, even as you begged him not to. That the same hands that patched up your knees when you fell and stroked your hair when you struggled to fall asleep had butchered women and children for the sake of rare eyes.
It can’t be—he can’t be.
“He misses you a lot,” Pakunoda continues. You want to scream at her to shut up, but your throat is too clogged. You hate this. You hate this. “Whenever he calls meetings that aren’t mandatory, he always waits for you, even though he knows you’re not going to come. He hides it well, but he’s disappointed every time.”
“Stop, Paku,” you finally force out. “That’s enough.”
She adds, “You should talk to him. Kortopi feels guilty, too, you know? He feels like it’s his fault you guys don’t talk anymore.”
“Stop, Paku,” you repeat.
Pakunoda sighs, but she doesn’t push anymore.
She’s wrong, you tell yourself. You’ll stay long enough for the debrief in the morning, and then you’re gone again. Back to Meteor City to help the people whom you swore to help all of those years ago. Chrollo will be far from mind.
---------
The base is eerily quiet when you get back. You didn’t go in with Pakunoda right away; you decided to sit on the bench outside the building until nightfall. You didn’t want to risk running into Chrollo, and you figured that by now, he would have headed to the room he claimed.
Uvogin and Nobunaga were passed out drunk in the front lobby when you came in, and Machi was napping at Kortopi’s bedside, checking up on him when the exhaustion of using her nen so much finally caught up to her. Pakunoda was reading a book in the lobby area, keeping an eye on who comes and goes. She gave you a long look when you first entered the building, but you pointedly ignored it.
Now, you’re going up to claim a room of your own. Chrollo, at least, had enough sense to pick a building that used to be a hotel, so there were countless rooms, even if most of them were rather dilapidated. You think maybe you’ll go to the top floor; the walk up the stairs will give you some time to think and—
“Oh, hey,” an unfortunately familiar voice says from behind you. “We haven’t had the chance to talk yet.”
You stiffen immediately, glancing over your shoulder to where the red-headed jester called Hisoka is leaning against the wall, flicking one of his cards around. His lips are curled up into an unreadable smile as he eyes you, and it makes your skin crawl. You don’t know what was going through Chrollo’s head when he decided to let the man into the Troupe; everything about him rubs you the wrong way. You know you’re not the only one, too—Feitan and Franklin don’t like him either, and though Pakunoda won’t say it out loud, you know she’s wary of the Troupe’s newest member.
“Yeah,” you agree, voice cool. “That was intentional, clown.”
Hisoka’s eyes widen at your words, a giggle escaping his lips. “Oh my, the kitten has claws,” he coos, taking a step closer to you. “From the way everyone spoke about you, I figured you were as docile as a lamb.”
He reaches out to tug at a stray strand of your hair, and you instinctively move to shift away, but freeze when a cold, heavy energy slithers across the back of your neck and rests over your shoulders. “Now, now, I only want to talk.”
Is this… his Ren?
You can’t move. Your legs are tense like you want to run, but your feet are rooted to the ground. Your throat is so tight that you can’t even push a noise from your lips, much less a call for one of the others. You’ve felt plenty of people's Ren before, but never like this. Most people’s aura bursts outward in an unshaped rush of strength, heavy and hot, a show of force that’s easy enough to brace against. Hisoka’s slides over your skin, cold and insidious, curling around your body like smoke as it chokes you; his bloodlust made tangible, he’s letting you know, with perfect control, just how easily he could kill you if he wanted.
“How cute,” he teases, and then his Ren disappears like it was never there at all.
You instantly dart away from him, breath ragged and gaze accusing as you lift your hand to your rapidly beating heart. With some space between the two of you, you hiss, “You—”
“Relax,” he drawls, tilting his head to the side as he smiles at you lazily. “I was only teasing. I’ve been excited to meet you, you see. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
That’s… ominous, you think, too rattled to have any other coherent thought. You doubt that the others have told Hisoka much about you, so he’s probably been lurking around eavesdropping, which means you have no idea what he might’ve heard or gathered from them.
You don’t reply to him, but he’s studying you carefully like he’s trying to figure something out. You want to leave, but your body just isn’t cooperating with you, still thrown off by his oppressive Ren. After what feels like an eternity, he lets out an airy sigh, eyes sliding shut as he tilts his head back.
“Never mind,” he sings, waving his hand flippantly and turning to leave. “It would be too… boring to do it this way. I’ll just go about it the hard way.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” you demand, unnerved, but Hisoka doesn’t respond, disappearing around the corner. You breathe out to yourself, “What the fuck just happened?”
You lean back against the wall, trying to get some control over your heart, but no matter how hard you try, your fingers won’t stop trembling. What was that? What did he mean by ‘go about it the hard way’? What just happened?
You’re not sure, but you have a feeling it’s bad news.
-----
You find yourself standing outside the room that Chrollo claimed for himself. You don’t even really remember how you got here; once you finally got yourself moving after that encounter with Hisoka, your feet brought you here on their own.
After all these years, it’s still Chrollo you seek out in your times of distress.
You sigh, head hanging forward just a bit before you push open the door to his room. Your breath catches when you see him lounging back in his bed, reading a book. He’s wearing a loose, long-sleeved white shirt, the laces in the front are mostly undone, and his hair is hanging around his face, free from the slickback he usually styles it in. He looks so at ease that it makes your heart ache.
“What is it?” he asks coolly before he even looks up, probably expecting Pakunoda or Machi. “I—”
His gaze flickers up, and his expression immediately shifts. His lips part, and his eyes widen ever so slightly. He shuts his book quickly and pushes himself up into a sitting position, gaze roving over you like he doesn’t even fully believe that you’re there.
“Oh,” he says, voice soft like he’s worried that if he’s too loud or sudden, it might scare you away. Something in his face changes when you don’t respond right away, his brows knit together, and his lips flatten. He senses something is wrong instantly—he still knows you better than anyone after so much time apart. He rises to his feet and makes his way over to you, voice more serious as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”
He lifts his hand as if to cup the side of your face, but he hesitates just before he touches you, like he isn’t sure if he should. You let your eyes slide shut as you close the distance, leaning into his palm and letting out a shaky breath.
Immediately, he lifts his other hand to hold your face gently between his palms, brushing his fingers across your cheekbones as his eyes trace over you, trying to figure out what you aren’t saying. His touch is so familiar, so warm, it’s hard to remember all of the things you were convincing yourself of earlier when the hands that cradle you feel the same as the ones that once patched up your injuries and stroked your hair to help you fall asleep.
He touches you with bloodstained hands, you remind yourself. Women, children—how many people have suffered under the same hands that hold you so carefully?
“Tell me what happened,” he says, voice firm, gray eyes sharp as he waits for you to answer him.
When you don’t again, he sighs and steps closer, his hand sliding from the side of your face to the back of your head as he pulls you into him. You take in a sharp, wet breath when he holds you in his arms, ear pressed to his chest. His heart beats steadily, thrumming in your ear, the same rhythm you were so intimately acquainted with years ago.
“I don’t know what happened,” you finally answer as you sink into his arms, drowning in the familiar beat of his heart. “I don’t…”
“Did something happen on the way back?” he asks you, and you let out a shaky breath as he traces patterns on your back. “While you were sitting outside?”
Of course, he knew you were out there, you think. You wonder if he picked one of the rooms looking over the front of the building specifically so he could keep an eye on you while you were sitting out by the old, dry fountain. You open your eyes and focus on the window seat on the far side of the room, where the cushions are shifted around as if someone had recently been sitting there.
“No,” you say after a moment. “It was in here. Hisoka—he…”
You trail off, unsure how to describe what took place between the two of you, but just having the name is clearly enough for Chrollo, who stiffens. Something dark crosses his expression, and in an instant, you’re reminded of the fact that he has changed, but he doesn’t give you much time to linger on the thought when he asks, voice low, “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” you say again, shaking your head. “It was just—”
You grimace, hand flying to your abdomen as ghost pains shoot through your body. Chrollo immediately steadies you, brows furrowing as he looks down at where you’re holding, as if searching for a wound that you don’t have.
“It’s just the after effects,” you tell him before he can get the wrong idea. “From healing Kortopi.”
Chrollo frowns, but he leads you over to the bed so that you can lay down. You think that you should leave; you didn’t even intend on coming here, you were planning on just finding a bed to ride out the worst of the pain and then disappearing after the debrief in the morning. You don’t want to reconcile with Chrollo; you’re fine with how things are. You’re fine with the distance between the two of you. You’re fine being alone. He’s not who he once was, and you want nothing to do with who he has become.
Still, you put up no resistance when he lays you down on the mattress and fluffs the pillow behind your head so that you can rest comfortably. You don’t pull your hand back when he sits on the bed next to you and entwines his fingers with yours over your stomach. You can’t bring yourself to look away when his gaze meets yours. His eyes are too dark, too unreadable; there’s not even a hint of the light that once used to fill them.
“What happened with Hisoka?” he finally presses, breaking the silence that had drawn on for too long between you two. He lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face, but this time you do turn your face away, if only slightly. Chrollo pauses, hand freezing midair, and then he lets it drop back down to his lap.
“Nothing,” you say quietly. “It was just weird. Everything is with him, though.”
Chrollo doesn’t look convinced, but you turn your face to the side, looking away from him to the peeling wallpaper on the far side of the room. You don’t know what you’re doing here; you don’t know why you stepped into his room. You should’ve just went on your way and found yourself a room like you were planning to; you don’t like being around the others when you’re facing the consequences of using your nen ability, even if it does mean spending the night alone. They worry about you too much; whenever they’re reminded of the fact that you take on the pain meant for them, they become averse to letting you heal them.
“Is there another room on this floor?” you ask him, hating how hoarse your voice sounds.
“You don’t have to do that,” he frowns. “You can stay here.”
You look at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his lips press together tightly and his throat bobs. For a second, he almost looks hurt, but then his face smooths out again as he forces his lips up into a small smile.
“Right,” he agrees softly, pulling his other hand back from where it had been holding yours. There shouldn’t be a pit in your stomach over it. This is what you want—distance. You and Chrollo Lucilfer are better off strangers than anything else. You’re not friends anymore, and you’re certainly not… “I can find a different room. Stay here and rest.”
You sigh. “Chrollo.”
“It’ll be a few hours before it passes, right?” he presses. He’s concerned, you can see it in his eyes. For a second, they’re familiar again—the same ones that would hover over you when you got yourself hurt searching for trinkets in the junkyard. “You shouldn’t move around too much. I can find a different room.”
“Stop,” you say, shaking your head. “I can move to another room, Chrollo. It’s fine, it’s hardly begun yet; it’ll just be periodic waves for the next hour until it really hits—you know that. I just—”
“Stay.” You can tell he’s aiming for it to come out as an order, but it lands more desperate than he would like. He immediately averts his gaze and then repeats more quietly, “Just stay.”
You pause and then tell him, “On one condition—I want you to answer something for me.”
Chrollo exhales, eyes unsure and shoulders tense for a second too long before he finally nods, signaling for you to ask your question.
“Why?” you breathe out, and before he can press, you continue, “What are we doing, Chrollo? Don’t give me that whole becoming villains for the rest of the world to fear spiel, because you and I both know you’re full of shit. We’re not protecting Meteor City by doing all of this, so why? Tell me why.”
Chrollo looks away, expression eerily blank. He says coolly, “The kidnappings have all but stopped—”
You push yourself into a sitting position so suddenly that when a wave of pain hits you at the same time, it nearly blinds you, but you ignore it, hand darting out to grab Chrollo’s wrist. His gaze shifts back toward you, heavy and conflicted. There’s so much you want to say—seven years of rage, eleven of confusion. You feel like you were the only one trapped in time back then; you followed them because they were your friends, because you loved them, loved him, but you’re still stuck in the past. No matter how hard you race to catch up with them, you can’t.
And you understood it back then. You did. You understood the anger over Sarasa, the desperation to make sure it never happened to another child from Meteor City. When Sheila begged you not to get wrapped up in this, you refused her because you agreed with them. Sarasa’s killers couldn’t go unpunished, and when Chrollo finally got his hands on them, you were right there in the background watching them get what they deserved. But at some point, things changed, it was no longer about protection or even revenge, and they all kept moving forward, while you were left behind.
“The Second Prince and her followers are not innocents,” Chrollo tells you, voice cold, like he knows exactly where your thoughts are turning. “They—”
“I’m not talking about the Second Prince,” you interrupt loudly. “Although that’s a whole other can of worms, Chrollo. How long are these tactics going to prevent retaliation on Meteor City? You know better than anyone that they’re not sustainable, and eventually, the need for revenge will outweigh fear. We’re prime examples of it. But that’s besides the point. You know what I’m talking about. You know—”
“Would you like to leave?” he asks you quietly.
“What?” you ask him, voice stunted in surprise. When his question processes, you scoff bitterly, “Don’t act like that’s an option, Chrollo. The spider is branded on me, there’s no leaving.”
“I can help you get set up somewhere,” he continues, trying to keep his voice light and polite, but you can hear the hollowness in it. “Yorknew City? Or Swardani, maybe? Anywhere you want, I can make it happen. I know what we’re doing now isn’t what you anticipated agreeing to back then. You can leave, if you’d like.”
He means it. You can tell because it’s visibly paining him to offer you this. He’s trying to hide it, but the corners of his lips are tight and he’s purposely looked away from you so you can’t see his eyes.
Should you accept it? A new life? Is that really what you want? You’ll never see them again, probably. Pakunoda and Kortopi will come visit you, but the rest? They’ll take your decision as a betrayal, and you suppose it would be one. And Chrollo would never come, because he knows it’s him specifically you would be trying to leave behind.
Do you want to leave him behind? Or do you just want to understand so that you can finally catch up with the rest of them? You don’t even know what you’re angry about anymore—is it them changing, or is it you not changing along with them? Is it the atrocities they’ve committed that upset you, or is it the fact that you’ve been on the outside of your friendship with them for years? That you’ve been so lost, when they all seem to understand what’s going on? Both? Neither? You don’t know anymore, and it scares you. You’re so confused that you almost want to cry. You’ve never handled change well; you just want things to go back to how they once were.
“I want you to answer my question,” you finally force yourself to say, rejecting the offer. If Chrollo is relieved, he’s careful not to show it, but he does finally look at you again. “Tell me why we’re doing all of this. Tell me why—”
… why I’m the only one who seems to care enough to want to know why. You don’t finish that one. You think maybe you might know the answer. It’s the same reason why Sheila left before things even began. It’s why she asked you to come with her—she somehow had seen how things would turn out, long before anyone else did, and she knew you would eventually be left behind in the same way she already felt she was. Their rage and thirst for vengeance has twisted them into something unrecognizable; they no longer see the difference between becoming ‘villains’ to protect Meteor City and burning down the world because they like watching it burn.
Maybe that’s just your answer then, you realize on your own, gaze lowering. Even Pakunoda said it before: what do you want me to say? Like she didn’t know how to answer your questions, not that she didn’t want to.
They don’t know—he doesn’t know.
There is no answer to your question, because he doesn’t understand anything either, and you’re sure that bothers him more than anyone else. No wonder he’s always been so evasive about it.
Chrollo seems to recognize that you’ve come to the answer yourself, letting out a heavy breath as he looks out the window to the night sky. His lips curve up into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Would you like to reconsider my offer, then?”
“No,” you say with a wry smile. “How could I possibly go live a normal life after everything we’ve done, Chrollo?”
He raises his eyebrows slightly and then tells you, “You’ve hardly taken part in our missions.”
“We both know I’m not innocent. I’ve healed each of you countless times over the years,” you respond, shaking your head. You think maybe you’re worse than the rest of them—they’ve all accepted that they’re monsters, even if they don’t understand how they became that way. You’ve been trapped in the delusion that you’re somehow above them all, moralistic as if you’re not the primary facilitator of their atrocities. “Every life taken after is on my hands as much as theirs. There’s been more blood spilt that can be attributed to me than any one of you individually. You’ve condemned me alongside you, Chrollo. There’s no world where I can leave the Troupe and live a normal life. I’ll burn in the same hell that you and all of the others will.”
“I suppose I have,” he says softly. And then adds, “We were never destined for a normal life.”
“We didn’t have to be destined for this one.”
He doesn’t reply, though you didn’t really expect him to. You take the silence to press another burning question onto him. “I don’t care that I’m part of all of this, Chrollo. All I wanted was an answer. But how… how could you let Kortopi be dragged into it with us? After what you promised me?”
He sighs like he doesn’t want to have this conversation with you, and it reignites the rage in you. “Chrollo.”
“I thought I was keeping my promise to you,” he finally says, voice tight, but he still doesn’t look at you. “I thought it would be easier having him closer to us than constantly leaving him behind in Meteor City while we left for missions. I was—”
Wrong. He doesn’t finish saying it out loud though, eyes sliding shut as he lets out another heavy sigh. Your jaw tightens as you whisper, “I begged you. I begged you, Chrollo, and you dismissed me like I didn’t matter at all.”
“I know,” he replies, voice quiet like he’s ashamed to say it out loud. “I know. I’m sorry.”
You let out something caught between a scoff and shaky breath, shaking your head and looking away. You don’t say anything else. After what feels like an eternity, he rises to his feet and tells you, “I’ll go find a different room.”
Before you can think to stop yourself, you grab his hand to stop him from going. His skin is warm against yours, and your fingers slot between his as perfectly as they did years before the two of you became so distant. Chrollo pauses, gaze flickering down to your joined hands, lips parted but not saying anything.
“Stay,” you say quietly before you can talk yourself out of it.
Chrollo doesn’t respond for a moment, like he’s considering what to say. You didn’t anticipate that maybe he would reject you after everything, and you find yourself hesitating, gaze shifting to the side, but when you move to pull your hand back, his grip becomes firmer.
“Are you sure?” he finally asks you, which he really shouldn’t have, because you aren’t sure.
“No,” you say honestly. His expression doesn’t drop, but his lips do tighten, like he was bracing himself for this answer, but no amount of bracing can actually prepare him for rejection from you. “Stay anyway, though.”
He exhales heavily. He hesitates, and you don’t know if it’s for your sake or his. If he doesn’t want to take advantage of your momentary weakness when he knows you otherwise would be rejecting him, or if he wants to protect himself because he knows your emotions are fickle and fleeting, and the resentment you hold for him will eventually rear its ugly head again, leaving him wounded after he had allowed his guard to drop for you.
You’re unfair to him, you think to yourself. You’re all he’s ever wanted—he would wait years and years and years for you, he would subject himself to all of your rage and hatred, if it meant one day he could have you again. You know that. You always have. For a second, it’s not him standing there, but the boy who would track you down into the Uga Forest and scold you for hours for going there on your own with everything going on. Who would pretend he wasn’t almost on the verge of crying when his voice got all pitched as he told you that he was searching for hours and he was scared that the worst had happened. Who would instantly give in when you told him, ‘I just wanted to see the flowers,’ and made you promise to at least wait for him to come with you next time.
He’s unfair to you, you argue. He dragged you down this path with him; he condemned you alongside him. He’s made you an accessory to crimes so horrific that the devil himself would blanche at the sight of them.
You willingly went along with him. You willingly heal them.
He knew you would follow him down any path. That you would never leave them when they needed you, regardless of what they’d done.
“Okay,” he finally says, grip tightening on your hand before he sinks into the bed with you, laying on his side so that he can look at you.
Neither of you say anything for a bit, but for the first time in years, the silence isn’t awkward, both of you are comfortable basking in each other’s presence after so long apart. He lets go of your hand to slide his hand up your arm to rest on your face, cradling you so gently that your heart skips a beat.
“What have you been reading?” you ask him, glancing behind him to the book he placed on his nightstand, trying to pretend that your heart isn’t actively trying to claw its way out of your chest.
“Hm?” he replies, so absorbed in studying your face that he doesn’t immediately process what you asked. When he does, he blinks and says, “Oh.”
He removes his hand from your face to reach behind him to grab the book, and you immediately regret asking the question because you miss the warmth of his touch as soon as it’s gone. He shows you the book, but the title is in a language that you can’t read, so you just raise your eyebrows at him.
“A history book on the Kakin Empire,” he explains.
You find yourself snorting despite yourself. “Wow, you haven’t—”
—changed a bit. You almost say it, but you cut yourself off before you can, smile dropping immediately. He seems to understand what you were about to say, because the amusement that had flickered in his eyes instantly dissipates.
“It’s interesting,” he tells you. You think he’s trying to be playful, but the comment comes out more petulant than anything, like he’s offended by your reaction. “I like learning.”
“I know,” you say, smiling a little again. “You’re so lame.”
“I distinctly remember you being very appreciative over how lame I was when Father Lisores quizzed us on history and you couldn’t answer any question so I had to save us from chores,” he mutters, putting the book back on his nightstand, but you can hear the smile in his voice, even as he side eyes you.
“Yes, my savior with boundless knowledge of the most useless facts known to mankind,” you reply dryly.
Chrollo doesn’t immediately quip back or turn back toward you, so you shift up onto your elbow, tilting your head to the side as you try to see what he’s doing over his shoulder. He frowns at you when he catches you trying to peek and immediately hides whatever is in his hands before turning to face you again.
“I got you something,” he says softly. “I… found it a while ago, but I didn’t know when to give it to you.”
Because of how you were avoiding him, you realize, barely withholding a grimace as you glance away for a moment. Your curiosity gets the best of you, because you look back at him and ask, “What is it?”
He hesitates for a second before unfurling his hand, revealing a small, familiar figure sitting inside of it.
When you don’t immediately say anything, he says, “It’s—”
“The swan,” you breathe out, swallowing thickly as you carefully take it from him. It’s in less than pristine condition, the white paint of the feathers have darkened with time, even though it’s clear that Chrollo had tried his best to clean it up before giving it to you, but it’s undoubtedly the last figure in the bird collection you tried so hard to complete when you were a kid. You let out an airy laugh, smiling as you turn it in your hand. “Where did you find it? How did you remember after all this time?”
“At a market in Yorknew City,” he says, a soft expression on his face as he watches how you marvel over the figure. “The collection was apparently really popular two decades ago, the swan was a limited edition, only a couple hundred of them were made… Or, he could’ve just been saying that to get more money out of me.”
He didn’t answer your second question, but you still smile as you look up at him, asking doubtfully, “You paid for it?”
His smile is teasing as he says, “I thought you would appreciate it more if I did.”
You don’t know why that makes your chest ache, but it does. Your smile drops, and Chrollo pauses like he doesn’t expect that reaction from you. You let out a shaky breath; there are a thousand things you want to say to him, but you can’t push a single word out.
I’ve missed you so much.
Why did you wait all these years for me?
I still love you.
He understands. He always does, especially when it comes to you. The concern in his face softens, and he reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek before he shifts forward, pulling you closer to him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tight around him, nails digging into his white shirt. You take in a shuddered breath, inhaling the familiar scent of him that you’ve deprived yourself of for too long. You’re sure that he can feel the tears suddenly stinging your eyes wet against his skin, but he doesn’t make any mention of it. Instead, he lifts his hand to cradle the back of your head, his other arm coming around your waist to hold you close to him.
“You know, when you told me that your favorite bird was a swan, I made it my mission to find you that figure if it was the last thing I did,” he says, absently tracing patterns along your back to soothe you. “Paku helped me convince Sarasa and Sheila to convince the others to scour the junkyard for it for your birthday. We spent three days out there looking while Father Lisores had you helping him clean out the basement of the church.
You let out a watery laugh against him. “I always wondered why I was the only one forced to help him with that,” you accuse. “I was so mad.”
He lets out a puff of air laced with amusement. “I know. You didn’t talk to me for a week. Still snuck into my room to sleep though.”
“Shut up,” you complain, resting your head on his shoulder and letting out a heavy sigh, sinking into his arms. For the first time in too long, you feel at home. You admit quietly, “I missed you.”
He hums, tilting his face down to brush his lips against the top of your head. “I never had a favorite animal, but I researched swans after you told me they were yours. They became mine too.”
You smile. “They’re my favorite because I think they’re pretty, Chrollo,” you tell him quietly. “Not because I did any research on them. I could barely even read.”
“I suppose they are,” he agrees, “but I only started to appreciate them after I learned more about them. Did you know that once swans choose a mate, they’ll never find another? When one dies, the other doesn’t seek out another partner. It either keeps moving, half of a creature pretending to be whole, or dies in its grief.”
His hand stills on your back for a moment before continuing its lazy pattern. “People call it loyalty, but I think it’s something else. They don’t stay together out of duty—they stay because they can’t do otherwise. Because for them, there is only ever one.”
His voice has gone low, thoughtful in a way that’s far too pointed to be a casual discussion of swans. Your throat feels all clogged, and the tears you managed to push away fight their way back into your eyes. “Even if the world tears at them, even if they’re hurt or angry, even if staying together drags them into dark waters, they don’t let go,” he continues quietly. “And if they lose their other half, they’ll just keep gliding on that same path until it kills them.”
“Is that supposed to be sweet?” you murmur into his neck, trying to force some levity into your voice. “It sounds awfully tragic to me.”
He hums softly, almost amused. “I’m not sure. I think I admire it because it’s rare. Most creatures replace what they lose. They forget. Swans don’t.”
You pull back just enough to look at him, and his expression is calm as ever, but his eyes are sharp, searching yours like he’s weighing whether or not you understand what he’s saying. How could you not?
“Do you think it’s a strength,” you ask quietly, “or a weakness?”
Chrollo’s mouth curves up into that small, unreadable smile that you know too well. “Both,” he says, “but either way, it’s beautiful. I started to understand them when you chose to become a spider when we were fourteen, even though I could tell you were unsure, but I only really understood it for myself after you decided to distance yourself a few years ago.”
You don’t know how to reply to that, so instead, you lean forward, lifting your hands to hold his face between your palms before you press your lips against his. His lips are soft against yours, a bit chapped, but they taste the same as they did the last time you kissed him—familiar, like home.
For the first time in years, you feel whole again.
Chrollo’s breath hitches, barely audible, before he responds in kind, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other holds your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you softly at first, almost shyly—hesitant, as if he’s testing whether this is actually happening, whether you’re really here with him, really kissing him, really allowing things to go back to normal between the two of you. His lips brush yours once, twice, and when you don’t pull away, Chrollo exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.
His fingers slide into your hair carefully, his other hand sliding down to your hip so that he can shift you onto your back. He presses you down against the mattress, hovering over you, and he kisses you again. The second kiss is deeper, more certain. It’s unhurried at first, but each passing second chips away at the restraint he’s been clinging to for years.
You part for just a moment, gasping for air, and his gaze meets yours, pupils blown wide and unguarded in a way that makes your heart ache. His fingers trace over your face almost reverently as you struggle to catch your breath, and then, like he can’t bear for his lips to leave you for so long, he leans down again, kissing your cheek, the underside of your jaw, down your neck—long, lingering kisses that make your head all dizzy.
“Oh,” you gasp, lashes fluttering shut. He places a kiss on the hollow of your throat, and then on your collarbone, and then his mouth is on yours again, harder this time, as if he’s finally given himself permission to let go.
Your hands fist his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you, his hips slot between your thighs and his warmth seeps into your bones. The kiss turns hungry, the years of separation bleeding into every movement, every brush of lips and teeth. You feel him smile against your mouth when you let out a small, helpless sound against him.
“We shouldn’t,” he breathes out, lips brushing yours as he forces the words out. Even as he speaks them, his grip on you tightens. “Any minute now—”
You kiss him again, and he lets out a ragged breath into your mouth, unable to stop himself from giving in again. His lips slide messily against yours, tongue sweeping across your lower lip and hands sliding down your body, pulling you impossibly closer. And then—
The next noise you let out is closer to pain than pleasure, and Chrollo recognizes it immediately, pulling away to let his eyes rove over you in concern. He won’t find any physical injuries and he knows that, but he still can’t stop himself from searching. After a few moments, the pain subsides—you still have some time before you’re thrown into the worst of it, but not long enough. He realizes this too, sighing softly as he brings his hands back up to your face, cradling it carefully between his palms.
“I never meant to ruin you,” he whispers, thumb running along your cheekbone and fingers absently carding through your hair as his gaze searches yours. “You were the one thing I always wanted to…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to. Your lips curl up into a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you say, “I know.”
“After the debrief…” he starts to say, voice inquisitive, but he doesn’t ask the question. You think maybe he doesn’t want to speak it out loud, because he knows there’s a chance that things will go back to as they have been the past seven years, even after everything that happened tonight.
“I’m going back to Meteor City,” you tell him, watching how disappointment flashes across his face before he gives you a too-soft, too-polite smile.
“Right,” he agrees. “Of course.”
“Will you come with me?” you finish quietly. Chrollo inhales sharply as your words process, and you reach out to entwine your fingers with his. “Father Lisores has been asking for you. I don’t know how to explain to him that you’ve been avoiding the hamlet for my sake.”
“Oh,” he breathes out. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”
You give him a soft smile, and he leans down to press his lips against your forehead. You think things will never be the same as how they were, but maybe they will be okay.
Hello! can i request hc's of Kurapika, Chrollo, Gojo, Jotaro and jojos Bucci gang with a darling that is trapped somewhere and there is someone else pretending to be them in order to kill them, but the guys recognize its not the darling because the imposter is acting just like darling was at the beginnig when they kidnapped them (darling hated them) and at this point darling already loves them and openly shows it to them
⛓️There is only so much loss Kurapika can handle within one lifetime and with the genocide of his entire clan, that limit has long been evaporated. The saying goes that one shouldn't mess with a man who is barely hanging on by a threat and Kurapika's last thread happens to be you. Losing you would just push him over the edge and it is that intense fear of losing you which has led Kurapika to go through many measures to ensure that no one will ever find you the moment you become the subject of his obsession. For anyone to not even be able to track you down but also capture you during a time where he is gone for a longer period of time already tells him long before he begins an actual interrogation that this has been a well-planned operation. The difference between your own behavior too is jarring as the imposter cowers away from him instead of rushing towards him to welcome him back like you would do nowadays. Already Kurapika can feel the dread choking him out. Just in case this might be you and is a mere relapse, he decides to use his Dowsing Chain on the imposter to determine whether they are lying or not. The moment the chain confirms the lie though, his eyes turn crimson as his Nen turns deadly.
⛓️That is the moment where Kurapika turns into something more akin to a villain as he continues with brutal and efficient methods. The only thing on his mind is locating you and erasing everyone involved in this scheme. It doesn't even matter if there is an involvement from the Phantom Troupe or not, trying anything with you is a death sentence in his eyes. He uses Judgement Chain on the imposter, forcing them to return to their original form to not defile your beauty with their lies any longer. Any information they have about your location and the goal behind abducting you, he will force out of that person. It doesn't matter to him when blood starts to spill and he ends up breaking multiple bones when that person initially refuses to answer. It doesn't matter how at one point they yell at him how he is a monster, trying to scramble away only for Kurapika to lean down and slam their face in the ground again before repeating his next question, Dowsing Chain dangling in front of their face.. Throughout all the hours that pass, he remains frighteningly calm even if his burning eyes give away the rage he is feeling. The moment he has all of the information that he needs, he kills that person. Brutal but quick as he has no more time to waste.
⛓️Once more his Dowsing Chain helps him to locate you as it shows him the direction of where you are trapped. Kurapika isn't as stupid as to rush in directly as he doesn't want to cause an alert and risk you being used as bait so he probably seeks to find the one in command to capture them and use them as a hostage and a source to release you. However, that doesn't mean that he has any intention to spare anyone involved in this situation. Once he has managed to retrieve and has made sure that you have suffered from no lethal injuries, he uses his Judgement Chain on all of them and probably sets such restrictions that he knows everyone will have to break as he essentially forbids essential activities needed to survive naturally. The enemies realise too if he has to judge from the panic on their faces but he doesn't care as he additionally places the other restriction that if they ever try to harm you again, they will also have their hearts crushed. So by the time he leaves, he has already left everyone up for a certain death in a mere couple of days but that is of no concern for him. First of all he will have to relocate you to a different place as the old cottage where he has kept you is no longer safe.
Chrollo Lucilfer
📖It is a very foul trick to send someone in with a Nen-ability to shapeshift and take on your visage. It could almost be considered cruel in the book of another but to Chrollo it is insulting. If someone already goes through that much to take you away from him despite being aware of the risks, he would have at least expected more research to be done upon you. Not only is the imposter a terrible actor but all the little details are wrong too. The smallest details are what he finds so adorable about you and that imposter has memorised none of them. Your quirkiness, the little twitches you do and your weird rambles when something fascinates you have all been erased and instead he is represented with a lackluster cardboard copy of an imposter. Now, that is insulting. However, Chrollo is kind. He may in fact teach the imposter better as he spends a good hour or two calmly recounting every single flaw within their facade whilst watching patiently as Feitan rips nails and fingers off. Pakunoda has already retrieved the most important information. Chrollo has already stolen their Nen-ability. This all is maybe just unneeded cruelty but it is a fitting punishment in Chrollo's eyes. Such a sad performance deserves to be punished.
📖It is a brutal team effort as the entire Phantom Troupe descends upon the place where you are trapped and no one is spared. They become puppets, bloody pulps on the ground or dangling corpses on the wall. And Chrollo orchestrates the brutal takedown, walking through the remains of bodies as his shoes leave bloody imprints on the ground. The leader of the operation is the only one still alive by the end of it and only because Chrollo is interested in one last conversation. That person won't be spared. Their death is merely delayed via Chrollo's request because he can afford to do it. It's a cruel joke if one thinks about it. However, even then that person is forced to wait as Chrollo's first priority is always going to be you. And what a joy it is to be within the presence of the real you instead of a mediocre copy who cannot even hold a candle to you. Forgive him, he just needs a moment to admire the real you with all the lovely quirks and ticks. After Machi has made sure that there are no physical injuries which require immediate attention and Chrollo has made sure no Nen ability has been used on you, he leads you out of that place. Blood and bodies litter the way and he shields you from the sight. You don't need to see that.
📖It is only by the time he has made sure you are tugged within the bed and asleep that he finally decides to return his attention to the the one in command of the operation. Shalnark had to subdue their will as the poor person tried to bite their tongue off when they realised the fate that would await them. That would be a far too peaceful death. Chrollo has something else in mind. Yet he appears so civilised, dressed in normal clothes and with an open book in his lap as dark eyes observe the jittery person in front of him, gagged and tied to prevent any other incidents. The corpse of the imposter is strung upon the wall like the twisted masterpiece, specifically prepared for Chrollo's guest. He still has some questions that he needs to be answered. Some concerned with potential other people involved in all of this who he has to naturally eradicate too and others born out of his own hollow curiosity. The night is still long though so Chrollo has all the time in the world. Unless you wake up and demand his presence in which case he will call Shalnark over once more to return this person to a mindless puppet. He won't let them die a simple and quick death. He plans to slowly take them apart body and mind alike until they too end up like the imposter.
Kujo Jotaro
🌌As uncaring as people may claim Jotaro to be, he is incredibly perceptive. That is why he clocks the imposter as such almost immediately and it doesn't take much to piece together from there that the real you must have been taken somewhere else. And that just pisses him off. Things were starting to go so well after all with you having just recently learned to get used to his presence. The anger is probably very visible on his face too as he towers over the imposter and before they can get even one word out, Star Platinum is already throwing the first punch. Not enough to kill that person just yet. Just enough to knock them out and as a result undo the transformation as seeing someone else walking around looking like you to fool him makes him angry. Not that he would have hesitated to beat them up even if they would have still kept up your look. He knows it's not you and thus he has no problem beating the shit out of them with Star Platinum. The moment they wake up again, Jotaro is already grabbing them by the collar and lifting them up. He has neither the time nor patience to listen to their babbles as snot and blood drips down their chin. He wants answers. Now.
🌌That person is either already dead by the time he is done or is barely hanging on, blood and teeth splattered all over the floor. Jotaro has no further interest in them but out of principle he lets Star Platinum deliver the last rage-filled punch which finishes the job at the very latest then. Leaving them alive might turn out to be a liability later on as prevention is better than cure. He doesn't even look though as Star Platinum finishes it, his back already turned away as he walks to retrieve you. He looks still as unfriendly as always but he is already on his third cigarette, his own quiet way to deal with the stress he is actually feeling. The guards probably don't even know what is coming for them. How could they when he stops time, walks past them whilst letting Star Platinum pummel them into the ground before time returns and they are a mess of broken bones and organs on the ground whilst he just walks to the cell you are kept in. He hasn't retrieved the keys. He doesn't need to either. He just tells you roughly to get away from the door before Star Platinum punches his way through the door, the hinges not even standing a chance. Violence indeed proves to be the way once again as he simply grabs your wrists in a rough hold and leads you outside.
🌌If anyone on the way back outside so much as stirs, Star Platinum immediately punches them out of this life. All this whilst Jotaro doesn't even stop once, eyes constantly flickering back and forth to locate potential enemies still lurking around whilst his hold on you remains iron. He doesn't slow down once, dragging you with him as you are forced to take bigger steps to keep up with him. Once the two of you are far away enough that he deems safe for now, Jotaro also ends up snapping at you. Part of this anger is unjustified but he is pent-up from this situation and bad at expressing his emotions. He lashes out because he cares but that is hardly soothing for you who is subdued to such harsh words. It is going to take at least a few more hours before he has cooled of enough to actually talk to you somewhat normally again. However, Jotaro remains more vigilant now. It is just such an agitating fact that someone managed to steal you away from right under his nose and then have the nerve to try to fool him. Even if Jotaro managed to solve the situation quickly, the fact that it happened in the first place remains a sore spot for a while. As a result you may have to pay though as he puts you under even stricter rules and isolation.
Bruno Bucciarati
🤐Things have gotten more peaceful recently domestically for him and that development pleases Bruno greatly. It certainly took a bit of time and some unpleasant punishments which may have pained him to do but he deemed to be necessary but finally you have settled within the relationship. As a result you have been given more freedom as a reward. It is that freedom coupled with the realisation that he may have just gotten careless that has consequences that lead Bruno to be deceived as he receives a call of help from you only to be distracted by an imposter. However, he doesn't fall very long for the trick. Not when that person clearly hasn't done their work thoroughly enough, cowering away from him when you would have jumped into his hold by now. That's when a sudden sternness crosses his features as he bends down towards the imposter, blue eyes sharp as he asks calmly where the real you has gone. The moment the first lie is spoken as the imposter claims that they are you, Sticky Fingers is activated and in the next moment one leg of theirs is separated from the rest of their body. Now they can't run away no more. So let's try this again. Where have you been taken to? Careful or the other leg will be gone too.
🤐Every time the imposter lies or spites him out of terror, Bruno scatters their body into even smaller pieces. That is no way to speak to someone after all. Even you know how to address people properly instead of spitting insults their way. Most terrifying of all is that even though their body is in pieces, they still feel the pain of it. So Bruno may eventually lose a bit of his patience and start shredding or crushing bits of their body whilst forcing them to watch ans suffer from the pain. Only once the imposter has answered all of his questions does Bruno stop. However, he doesn't put them back together. He just searches for a garbage can in a quieter side street and stuffs them into a bag there,, closing the lid before deactivating his Stand, leading to an instant death as now their body is just disconnected without his Stand keeping them alive. Now that he has all of the information he needs, his mind immediately snaps towards rescuing you. He has taken longer than expected and you must be frightened out of your mind by now. He gives a quick call to Abbachio to briefly inform the other mafioso that he will be gone for the rest of the day. Without specifying anything, Abbachio immediately understands and merely wishes Bruno success.
🤐Infiltration is easy considering Bruno's Stand. As much anger as he holds though, he is not interested in a drawn out battle which may lead to the enemy going for you and harming you as retaliation. So Bruno is swift and clean with his takedown, zipping moths shut and separating bodies and limbs as he sneaks his way to where you are hidden. In typical protective fashion he is giving a thorough first inspection the moment he has relocated you, making sure you have no serious injuries before he allows himself the swift comfort of taking you in his arms and hushing the sobs that escape your chest when you realise he has come for you. However, further coddling has to wait as the two of you are still in enemy territory and so he leads you outside, shielding you from the sight of scattered body parts. There is no blood but he still doesn't want you to see the somewhat disturbing sight of heads staring at him with horrified eyes, sounds of horrified muffles escaping zipped lips. He leaves all people like this simply as a sign that he shouldn't be underestimated and that no one should ever target you as you are innocent in all of this. He's all over you the moment the two of you get home. From now on you only go outside in his company, okay?
Leone Abbacchio
🍷Ah, this brings up unpleasant memories and feelings Leone was sure he had buried a long time ago. Obviously he knows that this isn't you. He isn't stupid and even without using Moody Blues, he can recognise himself that this must be a Stand User trying to fool him to backstab him. However, the sight of you cowering in the corner and crying quietly in terror does strike a nerve within him. It reminds him of the months after the abduction where you couldn't live with him and the nights he spent trying to drown out the sound of your quiet sobs and the pain it caused him with numerous bottles of wine. He cannot move for a while, a haunted feeling pulsing through his body as too many negative and self-deprecating thoughts slam into his head before he actually snaps, overwhelmed with it all and throws the first punch. He used to be a cop so he knows how to defend himself and it is to his luck that the Stand of this person isn't one good in offense, meaning he manages to overwhelm them with Moody Blues. However, he has no time for interrogation. Not when you are stuck somewhere. He opens a drawer with a gun inside and just finishes the job then and there. He hesitates to pull the trigger though as the Stand is still there, still looking like you and sobbing and pleading him to stop.
🍷Watching the Stand crumble as he shoots its user, still looking like you even as it crumbles apart is surely going to haunt him in his already little sleep from now on. Nevertheless, he uses Moody Blues now to replay everything. His Stand may not be good for any fights or offense but for crime scenes it is perfect. It allows him single-handedly to calculate and retrace every movement the Stand and its user did until he has figured out where you are kept. You are being guarded though and Leone realises that he is outnumbered. It's a painful thing to acknowledge as he realises he probably won't be able to rescue you by himself as his Stand isn't made for offense. It really only fuels his own insecurity and his guilt for even letting things escalate this far. Eventually he calls Bucciarati for help, aware that he cannot do it without someone in possession of a Stand made for offense. Obviously his friend agress to help him is Bruno is familiar with you too and knows how much you mean to Leone. Once Bruno and him have gotten successfully inside, Moody Blues is once more used to track down where you are being kept. However, Leone freezes in shame and guilt once he is faced with you.
🍷It takes Bruno slapping him on his back for him to snap out of his self-pity to realise that you are even worse off right now, covered in injuries which may not be life-threatening but hurt nonetheless and with tears in your eyes as you have never experienced such violence like this before. You start crying the moment Leone cuts you free from the ropes and embraces you and the two of you don't separate at all throughout the entire ride home as Bruno offers to drive the two of you back to your house. Leone is anxious and has to keep his hands on you and you are even more anxious and need his touch to feel somewhat reassured. You cling to him the entire time and Leone lets you, equally uneasy to let you out of his arms. However, he keeps his emotions in for now to focus on getting you to calm down enough so that you can doze off into an uneasy sleep. It's probably only once you have drifted off into a somewhat tight sleep that his own tears start to quietly flow because he is still terrified. That shitty Stand who was able to shapeshift still haunts him as he remembers how it crumbled apart, looking until the bitter end like you. He could have lost you today. He cannot lose you. Not now. Not never.
Pannacotta Fugo
🟣Oh, he sees how it is. If this Stand and its Stand User think they can play him for the fool, they are deadly mistaken. For now he will pretend to play along though. Deep down Fugo is actually itching to lash out, purple eyes darting to every sharp object as he has to curl his hands into fists to keep them from grabbing it and stabbing the eyes of this imposter out. However, he knows his own temper and his terrifying Stand best. He still needs information and for that this bastard needs to be alive. Such a logical conclusion which is absolutely lost in his anger the moment he turns his back on the sobbing imposter because their cries give him a headache and he needs to calm down and they then stab him. Fugo reacts fast enough so that the knife only plunges into his shoulder but then it is already too late. He just stares at the knife still stuck in his shoulder blade before the mild pain he felt is overwritten by hot anger which explodes out of him like lava out of a volcano. He grabs a fork and just stabs it into the eye of the Stand, transferring the pain to the user which causes the Stand to glitch and for him to get punched again before he too activates his own Stand in a fit of explosive rage. One punch and it is all over.
🟣Fuck! This is the one thought he repeats over and over again as he rushes outside only to find the remains of melted flesh of his only source of information. Despair clashes with another surge of wrath as him and his Stand lash out together and only once Purple Haze has punched through a few walls and his own knuckles are bloody does he grab his phone to call Abbacchio for help. He needs Moody Blues. However, he rejects any other help. He kind of hasn't told the rest of the gang yet that he has abducted you about a year ago even though almost everyone except Narancia already know by now but for the sake of keeping him from lashing out just haven't talked about it with him yet. So as soon as Abbacchio drops by to use Moody Blues to replay everything that has happened and help Fugo figure out where the real you has gone, he is already being dismissed by the younger man from the crime scene. Not that Abbacchio thinks it would be a wise idea to linger too long around Fugo who already looks one wrong breath away from snapping once more. Fugo too is aware which is why he refuses to have any allies around. Purple Haze is a Stand best used when only enemies are around which is luckily the case now.
🟣As Purple Haze has a short rage, the virus it releases is quickly neutralised within Light and you are locked behind a thick and heavy door, Fugo is actually able to go wild. Which is very good because he has a lot of pent-up rage and his Stand is itching to punch and destroy. You know to stay the hell away from the door as you hear the screams outside, curled up as far away as possible. Even after the noise stops, you don't dare to move. Not because you fear Fugo or even Purple Haze but because you know the virus needs to be neutralised first before he can open the door which is why you wait within a safe distance. Once Fugo finally opens the door, you immediately scramble up from the floor to nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug. You swear you can hear Purple Haze growling in something akin to happiness above you, thick drool dropping onto your shoulder from his Stand. The mafioso himself doesn't immediately return the hug as the unpleasant image of that fucking Stand stabbing him whilst having your face flashes within his mind. However, this time he manages to snuff out a grudge that would be unreasonable and not your fault which then finally allows him to return your hug before walking back home with you.
Narancia Ghirga
🧡Oh, Narancia has actually no patience at all. That being said, he is the most pront to being fooled for an actual while before he realises what is going on. He panics when he initially notices the imposter and its Stand assuming your form and crying and shying away from his touch, rambling apologies for something he isn't even aware of he has done. Then though it's just like the light bulb suddenly goes on within his head and he freezes, staring at the thing looking like you but not actually being you before he lashes out. Aerosmith suddenly appears and shoots around, destroying the kitchen as a result but Narancia doesn't even care. The Stand glitches and returns to its original form before crawling away but now Narancia can use his own Stand and detect its user by using his special radar picking up on carbon dioxide. That is how he tracks down the user who is heavily injured and for that pants much heavier, struggling with each breath. What follows is a not so refined interrogation consisting of him kicking th bastard in the ribs and the stomach and poking around to harshly with his knife which results in him actually giving the man the joker look.
🧡None of this really matters. Narancia just wants to know where you are being kept and this bastard better tell him fast. Somehow despite his sloppy methods, he manages to get something out of the guy but not before they decide to spite him one last time by using their Stand to turn into you once more, leading Narancia to flip out and command Aerosmith to put even more bullets into them, resulting in their death. However, he has at least gotten the location out and he can use Aerosmith to determine the number of enemies. As he hides though and lets Aerosmith fly around the building, he actually realises that he doesn't know where exactly you are being kept. Fuck, he shouldn't have killed that guy so hastily after all. He cannot tell from his radar alone where you are. Luckily you are smart though. You notice the sounds of panic from outside as Narancia just starts shooting the guards he can see outside before you start holding your breath. Narancia takes notice of that and luckily seems to catch on to your idea as you hold your breath every minute before inhaling and repeating the process. He's able to figure your location out from this and then he can finally shoot around all he wants without having to worry that he may hurt you.
🧡Both of you are so overwhelmed when you see each other again, you just start sobbing into each other's arms. That is before Narancia remembers that the two of you are still not here and that he has to be strong for you now, leading him to wipe his tears away and grab your hand before he leads you outside. Outside he then panics because he realises the bodies are still lying around everwhere, resulting in him slapping his free hand over your eyes as he then leads you away until the two of you are far away for you to be allowed to see again. Once the two of you are home, he also realises that because he used Aerosmith inside the house, the kitchen is now ruined. That is another hasty apology from his side though you reassure him it is fine. Both of you agree that he has to call Bucciarati tomorrow though so that he can contact someone to fix this for the two of you. For now though you need to lay down. Your body experienced a lot of stress within the span of only a few hours and Narancia just crawls beneath the sheet with you. However, he cannot fall asleep. There is far too much adrenaline and fear still pumping through his veins. You can feel him twitching and shaking next to you the entire night.
Guido Mista
🔫Something here is definitely off. You are not acting like your usual self Mista has gotten used to and that despite the fact that you only called him half an hour ago to tell him that dinner is almost done. There should be no reason for you to act in such a skittish manner which reminds him far too much of how things used to be roughly around a year ago. But you know? It's been a long day for the both of you and perhaps you're not just feeling well. That's what Mista tries to reason himself with as he plops himself down on the chair as you put the plate down in front of him with shaky hands. A plate with four meatballs. In the next moment all chill flies out of the window as suddenly he has whoever this is right at gunpoint, his own Stand already firing insults at what he can only assume is the work of an enemy Stand User. Four?! Seriously?! Not even back when you were afraid did you ever torment him with this number because you knew how much he hated it. Sothis piece of shit better listen closely and give your current location away as quickly as possible unless they want their brain to be turned into a bloody soup. The casual switch from him being easy-going to casually threatening someone is honestly jarring.
🔫The enemy gets away. Though not because they manage to outsmart Mista but rather because Mista lets them. He's sure that now that the plan has failed, the enemy will most likely retreat to the same place you are being kept. They don't realise that one of his Sex Pistols manages to cling to their clothes as they flee from his shots, small enough to hide as Mista follows without letting himself be spotted. No. 5 is obviously about reay to burst out into tears that he is the one tasked with such a great spy mission but as Mista's obsession naturally extends to his Stand, No. 5 is just as set on finding you and overcoming his anxiety. Once No. 5 is inside the building, the tiny Stand goes his own way to find out where you are being kept, eventually discovering you in a locked away room before sneaking out again and reuniting with Mista who is lurking around outside. Now that Mista knows where you are, he can act. Your window is actually the first window to be shot, though thanks to his Stand none of the bullets hit you. You have barely time to go into shock as multiple numbers cling to your clothes, telling you to climb down so that the enemies cannot get you again. The moment one of them tries to pull you back up, Mista shoots them.
🔫No. 5 keeps you company the most, pleading you in a jittery tone to not look down or get distracted and slip when the occasional guy peeks out of the window to shoot you only to receive a bullet right through their brain by Mista. Once you are on the ground, knees wobbly from the shock, Mista immediately grabs your hand and is already running away with you. Shots are still being fired but he dodges them and his own Stand redirects bullets before they can hit you. That's how somehow the two of you get away though Mista is very aware that he will most likely have to ask Bucciarati soon for some help regarding an enemy group who has given him some trouble. For now the two of you seem to have gotten away from the worst situation though, panting in some sidestreet whilst Mista keeps his gun raised. The two of you are not going back to your house though. Far too dangerous. Only problem is that he has no money on him and neither do you. So he either has to mug some poor soul or call either Abbacchio or Bucciarati if he can very spontaneously crash over for the night with you. It's alright. They know you. Might be the best option because he can then discuss what just happened too. Now he only has to deal with his Stand clinging to you.
Giorno Giovanna
🐞Giorno is deceptively calm though green eyes are already quietly picking the imposter apart. The mannerisms, the pitch within their voice, the lack of small movements you like to do out of habit. However, he plays along because he knows the Stand User must be close and because he needs them to extract information from them. I'm very sure he has some secret code only him and Mista know and noe not even you are aware and he makes use of that, Mista immediately realising what Giorno has in mind before quickly smoothing the slight surprise on his face. So whilst Giorno calmly keeps up the facade with the Stand, Mista is outside with his gun drawn and already searching for the Stand User. Until eventually Giorno hears distant gunshots before the Stand in front of him glitches, losing your shape and falling to the ground, wriggling and clutching its shoulder. That's when he activates his own Stand, creating vines with sharp thorns to restrict the movement of the Stand whilst Mista brings him the user of it. When that person is brought to him, Giorno offers them a seat with a mellow expression on his face. Let's sit down. There is so much to discuss after all. Mista stands outside the door just in case as Giorno interrogates.
🐞Gold Experience is looming right behind Giorno as the mafia boss asks questions. Initially he seems frighteningly amicable as he offers coffee and sugar cubes. That is until the coffee cup turns into a venomous snake and the sugar cubes into wasps, crawling all over the skin of the enemy whilst their hands are suddenly restrained by thick vines. He would like to know where you are kept and who is behind this. The faster the enemy answers, the sooner he will remove all those animals. Otherwise he may have to get a bit more creative with his torture methods. Have they ever experienced what it feels like to have leeches sucking on their skin? Mista wisely refrains from peeking inside when screams and pleas are heard from behind the door. All until Giorno walks out, looking as collected as ever. He orders Mista to gather some men and inform them that they will infiltrate a mansion. Also, someone should take care of the mess of an enemy inside his office. They aren't dead yet though they are certainly pumped full enough of different kinds of poison to soon be. By the time he returns with you, he wants them to be gone. He cannot have you see such a mess. You aren't a mafioso after all.
🐞Normally Giorno doesn't get as active in brawls and fights anymore as he is the don by now. This is a matter involving you though so he sees it as the only right thing to fight too and not let someone else be the one to free you. With him and his Stand, things end very quickly. One of his abilities is literally Damage Reflection where any pain and wounds inflicted upon organic matter he created is returned to the one having harmed the life form. You can only listen to the noise and the gunshots outside, waiting anxiously until Giorno unlocks the door, looking flawless without a single drop of blood on his suit. Gold Experience is already checking for your injuries, healing any larger wounds before Giorno gently takes your hand and leads you through the hallways. Where there were once bodies, now thick bushes blooming with different kinds of flowers now cover them to spare you such a gruesome sight. You are not as naive to not know what Giorno is trying to hide but there will be no lingering images of dead bodies haunt your sleep which is Giorno's main goal. This rescue mission went quite smooth. Still, he will have to tighten security as he doesn't want this to be a common occurrence in any way.
Gojo Satoru
🩵As strange as this may sound, Gojo appreciates this level of stupidity. He doesn't know who exactly thought he wouldn't be able to immediately spot that this is a Cursed Technique being used right now with his Six Eyes, but he is grateful nonetheless. Because he has someone he can interrogate right in front of him without any silly chase he absolutely isn't in the mood for right now. Not when you are most likely kept captured somewhere. That smile he gives doesn't reach his eyes and it certainly doesn't match the way he grips the imposter's arms. fingers tightening and tightening until the bone snaps. Only then does he let go shortly, watching as the person wriggles on the ground like a worm before he bends down, removing his sunglasses so that they can stare his insanity right in the eyes. He wants them to undo this transformation. Right now. Or he may have to snap a few other bones. There are so many to choose from after all. He may just go for the spine next. He'll probably be able to track you down even without their help but for the sake of speeding this all up, why don't they just go on and tell him right away where you are being kept? They shouldn't be such a fun killer unless they want him to break more bones.
🩵All confidence this person may have had initially is gone by the time all limbs are twisted and Gojo is currently calculating how many ribs he can crack before they finally spill the location. That's when Gojo flashes them another eerie grin, asking what was so hard about this before the heel of his foot crashes against their temple, knocking them out and potentially leaving them with a brain injury. That's Shoko's job and not his though. He has other business to do now and as much as he kind of wishes he could kill this person of for daring to impersonate you poorly, he doesn't want to go through another rant from the higher-ups. If they deem whoever is responsible for this mess to be punishable by death anyways, the dirty work will fall to him as it is. It's always left up to him. For now he has to focus on getting you back though. The sheer nerve he has though is unmatched as he basically marches up to the front, waving at the guards and announcing his presence. This doesn't have to end violent. If they just hand you over now, none of them will have to get hurt. Unfortunately every single one chooses the reckless option and with only a small sigh followed by a shrug of his shoulders, Gojo rushes in.
🩵The switch within his eyes is amazing. Up until he opens the door and spots you, his eyes are pretty much the only thing not matching the chipper chatter he keeps up as he breaks bones and ruptures inner organs. Only once he sees that you are largely unharmed does the sparkle actually return to them and in the next moment he is already pushing his blind fold over your eyes. He has left some... not so pretty sight outside of this door which he doesn't want you to see. Please just keep this on until the two of you are out. In the next moment you are lifted up as he carries you outside. It's just a shame that he hasn't put headphones on your ear, leading you to hear the one or other quiet sob of pain. Though instead of recoiling from him, you only cling closer to him. Once the two of you are far away enough, Gojo pulls the blind fold of your head. Before your eyes can properly adjust, his lips are already crashing against yours though. He hasn't shown it during the actual battle but deep down he was worried sick about you. Luckily you are alright besides the one or other shallow wound though that certainly won't stop him from smothering you for the next month or so. Luckily by now you have learned to embrace his clinginess.
You announced like a bomb waiting to explode. It's sudden enough that Chrollo doesn't hide the smile gracing his lips as he stares at you with unveiled curiosity. Intrigue doesn't suit him, brows furrowed, lips in a line as he waits for whatever your mind had crafted. It's not often you seek him out and voluntarily start a dialogue.
You feel disgusted at the sight of happiness in his face.
"Perchance, are you not afraid I'll kill you while you sleep?" You asked him, suddenly, stopping in your tracks as you anxiously awaited his response. You were giddy like a child, as you let your cutlery rest on your plate, waiting for something.
Chrollo supposes he had received a fair share of questions in his long life of two digits. But he has yet to be questioned by someone's else and feel the same mirth in his heart and soul, as you specifically bring him each day. As instinctively as ever, he takes your hand in his with a soft grip.
"To die by your hands would be an honor, my love." He seemed ready to defend his view, to make a poem about the romance beneath your acts and how that seemed like a proof of your love. You hummed, trying to make him continue.
"If you were to stab me, I would push myself deeper into your blade just to be close to you." His grip turned tighter than, but you didn't show him how that had scared you, even if you had a growing suspicious that he was well acknowledge of that fact.
Chorllo brought your hand to his lips as he pressed a hot kiss to it. "But can you handle it? My blood, hot and sticky glued to your hands? Watching my life passing through my eyes before it vanishes? Watching my body go limp?"
The thought was comfortable, an indigestible sensation settling over your stomach the longer you were silent.
Suddenly, your little question wasn't just that anymore. It was bigger than you could imagine, heavy. Dangerous. Chrollo positioned his knife into your hand and guided it to his own neck without even battling an eye. He waited.
And waited.
He felt your pulse getting quicker, fearful, as the smile upon his lips grew.
Even when you tried your best to still your trembling hand. Chrollo delighted himself in the subtle gestures and mannerisms, like a hungry shark searching for a blood trail.
Searching for another meal.
He pushed your hand into his neck till the skin broke. A bead of blood trickle down the blade.
You felt nauseous. Sick, even.
"Can you handle being a killer just like me?" He muttered as softly as the kisses he would plaster your face with. "If so, be my guest, my dear."
His hand fell back to the table, but you couldn't stare at him any longer now. You felt nauseous, maybe even sick - you wanted to commit, to push the blade deeper into his throat, to watch him succumb like a miserable man. Yet, at the same time, you couldn't.
You wouldn't, and he knew that.
You threw his knife into his lap as you slowly searched for his eyes. He was already looking at you; but there was a glimmer of something more in them. You felt dangerously small next to him, defenseless, because he could commit horrible acts like murder and sleep peacefully, but you couldn't.
i was wondering how the adult trio will react and handle afab reader going through ovulation. Like with the clinginess and wanting to EHEM procreate 🫣
✦𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫✦
𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅: 05/31/2026
𝑨/𝑵: Hey, anon! Thank you so much for your request!! I'm sorry if it took a little while to come out, I'm currently finishing up more requests that are in my queue, besides other one-shots that I'm finalizing to post little by little. On another note... what an interesting prompt!! :-D I tried to focus 100% on their core personalities and psychology, without sugarcoating things too much, so their reactions would be as canon-compliant as possible (even in a more suggestive scenario like this, lol). I truly hope you enjoy how it turned out! Happy reading! :-)
Follow more about Adultrio, other characters, and updates almost every day on my masterlist
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: NSFW themes, breeding/procreation mentions, high suggestiveness, Illumi being creepy/possessive, Hisoka being Hisoka, Chrollo being intense.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
🕷️🕸️𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐟𝐞𝐫: the melancholic philosopher
Chrollo is a living paradox: while he is a cold-blooded killer, he possesses a deep, almost philosophical sensitivity toward the behavior of those he considers "his."
The Discovery: Chrollo is incredibly observant and intelligent. He will notice that you’ve become much more tactile, that your scent has subtly changed, and that you can’t seem to take your eyes off his mouth while he reads. He finds human nature fascinating, and seeing your body respond to such a primitive calling awakens a calm, quiet curiosity within him.
Reacting to the Clinginess: He is by far the most receptive of the trio. If you approach him needing physical contact, Chrollo will close his book without a single second of hesitation. He will pull you right into his lap, burying his fingers in your hair and allowing you to fully nestle against him. There is a soothing calmness in the way he handles your neediness, running his hands up and down your back and listening to your quiet murmurs with an enigmatic, almost devout smile.
The "Procreation" Instinct: To Chrollo, this time of the month becomes almost a ritualistic experience. He lacks Illumi’s clinical obsession with heirs, and he doesn’t care for Hisoka’s need for chaos; Chrollo wants the total surrender of both your mind and body. The act with him becomes heavy, dense, and intensely intimate. He will dominate you with absolute composure, gripping your hips firmly while staring straight into your soul to read every single expression of your pleasure. There is a quiet, almost religious gravity to the way he claims you during this phase, making you feel like, in that exact moment, you are the only thing that matters in the entire world to the leader of the Phantom Troupe.
✦ ─── ❖ ─── ✦✦ ─── ❖ ─── ✦
📍🖤 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐙𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲𝐜𝐤: the flawless hitman
To Illumi, the human body is simply a machine made of flesh, bones, and predictable chemical reactions. He doesn’t understand the romantic concept of "clinginess," but he understands biology perfectly.
The Discovery: He will notice before you even do. Illumi registers the subtle change in your skin temperature, the spike in your heart rate whenever he gets too close, and the way your pupils dilate. He won’t ask you what’s going on; he will simply state it as a fact: "Your hormone levels have shifted. You are currently in your fertile window."
Reacting to the Clinginess: Your sudden need to be close to him doesn’t annoy him; instead, it activates his absolute, unyielding sense of possessiveness. If you try to hold his hand or bury your face in his chest while he’s reviewing mission reports, he won't push you away. Instead, he will wrap an arm around you, locking you against his side with a bit too much force. To Illumi, if you are biologically compelled to seek him out, it means you recognize his role as your provider and partner.
The "Procreation" Instinct: This is where his Zoldyck mindset truly shines. Illumi is obsessed with lineage, inheritance, and efficiency. The idea of you wanting to "procreate" flips a purely pragmatic switch in his head. Do not expect sweet foreplay or whispered sweet nothings. Intimacy with Illumi during this phase becomes a task focused entirely on the continuation of the species. He will be clinical, tireless, and frighteningly focused. His dark, lifeless eyes will remain locked onto yours the entire time, ensuring you feel the full weight of his control over your body. If you talk about bearing his child, that is the closest you will ever see Illumi to looking genuinely "satisfied."
✦ ─── ❖ ─── ✦✦ ─── ❖ ─── ✦
⭐💧🃏𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐰: the chaotic performer
Hisoka is a pure hedonist. He lives for sensory stimulation, raw desire, and anticipation. He couldn’t care less about reproduction, but he absolutely loves the chaos that hormones cause in your mind.
The Discovery: Hisoka can smell your lust from a mile away. He notices the shift in your breathing the second he walks into the room and the way you unconsciously bite your lip while looking at him. He will give you that signature feline smirk, narrowing his eyes as he finds it utterly delicious to watch you lose your composure over a natural cycle.
Reacting to the Clinginess: He is going to use your neediness as a toy. If you get whiny or beg him to lay down with you, Hisoka will purposely dodge you just to watch your frustration grow. He thrives on being wanted to the point of madness. He’ll trace his long fingers down your jaw, whisper something wildly inappropriate in your ear, and then pull away, chuckling softly at your whine. He wants you to beg; he wants you to completely lose control.
The "Procreation" Instinct: Hisoka finds your biological urgency hilarious and extremely turning. However, he has zero interest in actually sireing an heir; he only wants the raw pleasure and the total breakdown of your restraint. When he finally gives in to your desperate pleas, it will be an intense, erratic, and theatrical experience. He will pin your wrists, test your limits, and drag out the moment until you can barely take it anymore. He feeds on your desperation for him, turning your peak ovulation into a spectacle of pure ego and selfish pleasure.
HRHEH this sounds like a silly request buttt... Can you do a Hxh hcs react when Reader has a baby? (ANY CHARACTER IS FINE SINCE I ALWAYS SEE YOU DO HALF OF THE CHARACTERS)
NO REQUEST IS SILLY OR STUPID IN THIS HOUSEHOLD DONT U WORRY POOKIE SCHNIOKS
killua, kurapika, illumi, chrollo
(killua and kurapika are aged up!)
z. killua
- i hope we can all collectively agree that killua isn’t exactly father material
- he’s absolutely stiff when he sees the pregnancy test, blinking so many damn times with every single possible thought in the world running through his head
- he’s more worried than anything. what if illumi or his family comes after his child in hopes to groom and train them into an assassin as they had done with him?
- but all of his worries melt after the first time you do your ultrasound, where your baby is so extremely small and probably extremely fragile
- he’s definitely not a naturally good partner, but he’ll try his hardest to provide the happiest life he can for his child
k. kurapika
- is he father material? oh, 100%. most definitely so. but does he utilize it? hell no.
- now, kurapika isn’t upset that you’re pregnant. the opposite, really. he’s so unbelievably happy, but there’s just one teensy beensy tiny problem…
- he’s kinda sorta a mafia family leader who is still fuming with vengeance and emptiness, and he traded quite the number of years of his life to his nen ability.
- but really, he tries to do as much as he can for you and your unborn baby in the unknown amount of time that he has left. he overspends and overworks, but he doesn’t seem to care.
- he says that he doesn’t care about the baby’s gender, but he secretly really hopes that it’s a girl.
z. illumi
- honestly, the rest of his family members have more of a reaction that he does when they hear the news.
- yes, he’ll certainly love his child. hell, out of everyone on this list, he probably loves his child the most. but how does he express it without his kid running away from the training like killua did?
- his mom is ecstatic, his dad grumbling his congratulatory words, milluki is in shock that illumi even managed to rizz you up in the first place, killua is in shock that illumi ever even got married, alluka is excited, and kalluto is confused.
- illumi is actually very happy, although you can’t see it on his face or reaction. at all.
- perhaps it’s about time he asked killua for some advice on how to not have his kid run away from training.
l. chrollo
- definitely the most father material out of everyone here, i guarantee it. he utilizes it too.
- oh and i just know that this guy is RICH. you better expect to have the most luxurious and expensive life the moment he finds out that you’re pregnant.
- “he’s toxic and a yandere!” “he’d kidnap you!” yall need to stop mischaracterizing every single villain in existence. he’s literally the most gentle guy when you’re pregnant, always carrying your stuff no matter how heavy or light.
- he definitely books you appointments with the most expensive and skilled doctors. i can imagine him hiring random ass people to help you whenever he’s busy with a heist or heavens arena battle; he’s a floor master after all. on some random tuesday you’ll wake up and see a maid or a masseuse in your house attending to you.
- yall better stop mischaracterizing my glorious king chrollo because fuck no he’s not going to go all alpha and “if i cant have you no one can😈🤡” like where did that even come from😭
a/n: whew i haven’t written hxh stuff in a while, i hope it’s still ok. anyways i think yall can see the clear bias i have towards chrollo…
MDNI - 18+ノWARNINGS :: Chrollo x female!reader, explicit sexual content, oral sex -> male receiving, deep-throating, gagging, dominance/submission dynamics, hair-pulling, edging, praise kink, and sexual coercion themes, control and power exchange + more . total wc :: 600+
DAY THIRTEEN - THROAT TRAININGノm.list ノkinktober m.list
You kneel before him, hands resting limply in your lap, and Chrollo watches you like a predator assessing his prey, and it makes you nervous. He shifts slightly, leaning forward just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the air around you.
"Relax," he murmurs while his fingers graze your cheeks soothingly. "You're doing perfectly. Just let me guide you."
You nod but the nerves within you are running wild and your heart is pounding in your chest. Every muscle in your body is alert while you trust yourself to let him do what he wants with you. His hand cups your jaw, thumb grazing your bottom lip as he tilts your head up with the softest amount of pressure while his eyes lock onto yours. You could tell that he could see everything you are feeling right now, especially the complete and utter desperation you crave from him.
"Open for me," Chrollo says slowly in a gentle voice and in response, you part your lips, and his thumb presses slightly harder against your lips until you can feel the tip on your tongue. Just as a content sigh leaves your lips, he withdraws before pressing too far, giving you a moment to breathe.
"Good," he praises softly before placing a featherweight kiss to your lip,s and you relish in the soft and gentle feeling. "You're so eager." He waits just a few seconds before his throbbing tip pulsing against your lip.
A shaky whimper leaves your mouth as he slowly presses his length further, pressing agasint the tip of your tongue, just enough for you to feel him, and it made your hands move. Your fingers grasp his thighs as you gaze up at him. You softly gag, and he pauses, brushing your cheek gently with the back of his hand
"Relax... Breathe through your nose," he whispers, his thumb still stroking lightly along your jaw. "I won't let you hurt yourself."
The reassurance works, barely. Your throat convulses again, and you manage to take him a few inches further, but it causes your lower lash line to brim with tears. He lets out a breathy sigh while his lips curl up.
"You're taking me so well," he murmurs to you, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady.
He withdraws slightly, letting you catch your breath, but doesn't let you rest for long. His hand returns to your chin, tilting your head up just so. He lets you open your mouth wider, pressing against your lips with gentle insistence before sliding forward again, deeper this time, and it made your cunt pool with arousal, you wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping onto the carpet.
"Good girl," he says quietly "You're taking me so much better."
Your throat trembles around him, your eyes watering from the strain, yet you can't stop. The way he praises you, the way he watches every reaction, it's intoxicating. Chrollos is so patient with you, you love him so much for that.
He slows, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, his lips brushing your temple. "Are you ready for more?"
"Yeah," you reply breathlessly. "Please, I want to, I really do."
Every nerve in your body aches to do this because your oral fixation is growing, and sucking on lollies wasn't helping anymore. This time, he goes slower, pressing against your lips just enough to let you get used to the sensation before easing back. He watches every subtle twitch of your throat, the way your eyes water when it goes deeper, the slight shiver of your fingers clutching his thighs.
You swallow hard around him, your throat still unaccustomed to the sensation. His thumb brushes your lips, parting them further, letting him slide in a little deeper than before.
"Breathe. Focus on me," he whispers. "I want you to enjoy this..."
You tremble around him, but obey, letting him guide you inch by inch. He hums softly in appreciation, the sound vibrating through your jaw as he watches you adjust, pushing just a little further when he senses you're ready.
"You're doing so well," he murmurs, brushing hair from your face. "So sweet for me."
Do not copy, steal, modify, use for ai, translate, etc.
Relogs and like are appreciated.
chrollo, who reads philosophy and classic literature during long nights in unfamiliar hideouts, but always dog-ears pages that remind him of you - later quoting them absentmindedly during troupe meetings, much to machi’s eye-roll and feitan’s confusion.
chrollo, who keeps a small photo of the two of you - taken in a rare peaceful moment in meteor city - tucked inside his bandit's secret book, not as a weakness, but as a reminder of the only thing worth stealing back if ever lost.
chrollo, who never misses your calls, no matter where he is or what job the troupe is on - even if he can’t say much, even if the line goes quiet, he listens to your voice as if it’s the only tether keeping him from becoming completely hollow.
chrollo, who brings you back little trinkets from every city the troupe passes through - not jewels or gold, but strange and beautiful objects with stories he’s memorized just so he can tell them to you with that soft, lopsided smile.
chrollo, who meditates on rooftops beneath the stars after missions, the moonlight silvering his hair - and when he returns to you, it's like he’s shed the blood of the night and returned only with poetry on his lips.
chrollo, who lets you patch him up when he comes home injured, never flinching, letting your hands move over old scars and fresh wounds like you're rewriting a story he no longer has to carry alone.
chrollo, who trusts you with the unspoken - who doesn’t speak of uvogin’s death unless it’s to you, doesn’t show guilt for the destruction he’s caused unless it’s late at night and he’s lying beside you, asking if you still see light in him.
chrollo, who disappears for weeks at a time but always leaves behind something small: a note in your favorite book, a pressed flower under your pillow, a coded message only the two of you can decipher - all reminders that he will always find his way back to you.
chrollo, who debates ethics with you after a long day - coolly detached in theory, but softened when you challenge him, smiling faintly as you call him out, knowing you’re the only one who can argue with him without fear.
chrollo, who lets down his guard fully only in your presence - removing his earrings, shedding his coat, and curling up beside you with a kind of vulnerability the rest of the world would never believe exists in the leader of the phantom troupe.
