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magi-the-writer · 8 months ago

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| Make Your Choice |

PROLOGUE : Part 1 of 4

: PART ONE :

It really does suck when the thing that ends up killing you, is just doing your job.

THUNK!

“Finally” rolling my writs, the built-up tension began to unwind as I scrunched my nose up.

The hard sound of the boxes setting down to the floor, it didn't matter that I tried to settle the dolly down slowly. The load was just too heavy as I eyed the tower of boxes cautiously.

Watching them sway slightly, ‘don’t fall, please don’t fall.’ I quietly pleaded the universe to not be cruel.

“God this thing is heavy.” I breathed out a stale sigh as the stack came to a still. But a new problem had struck. ‘How the hell am I even going to unstack them?' Just the exhausting thought had me dreading the activity.

Having bore witness to Caleb as he struggled to stack the boxes on his own, it was a clear insight to how heavy these packages truly were.

In hindsight, I should have just scampered off when I had the chance. Cause now I’m stuck with the responsibility of putting all of this into storage.

I felt rather useless. Standing there in the crapped room full of box and toys; awkwardly trying to come up with a plausible idea as to how I was going to do this.

'Might as well try to brute force it.' Reluctantly, I got closer—my hands took the two bars to the dolly as I started to tug on it. 'Come on' I grunted. Yanking on the thing harder, it took me a moment to notice that they had started to wobbled—back and forth.

"Crap!" I hissed. Scrambling—I ceased my futile attempts as I scurried to save the towering tower of goods.

Not from the goodness of my heart. But because I don't need my paycheck going towards any damages to the papery continent’s contained inside.

Lingering their for a moment, my body was stiff as my hands pressed against the smooth surface.

Breathing out a short breath of relief, the tower stayed as my brows furrowed in annoyance. "Bloody thing, trying to get me in trouble." I muttered spitefully.

"So, you wanna be difficult—huh?" Jabbing the cardboard, I stalked around the stacked dolly—squeezing past the open ladder.

'Well. Too bad, you're coming off this thing, and I'm going to put your contents where it belongs.' With a mild sneer, I placed my foot against the lowest box. Pushing it, it didn’t move.

Shifting my footing, I tried once again. Shoving the cardboard from the plate they sat on. I wasn't even confident that it'd even move. But hearing the mild scraping was the fuel that kept my hopes high.

'Aha!' I exclaimed, grinning in glee. 'You are no match for me!—'

"Crap!"

My eyes blown wide in shock as I stumbled backwards. The dolly that came shooting out swayed; stumbling, I desperately scrambled to catch my footing. But it was like standing on marbles as my back collided with one of the many shelves.

"Ah! that bloody hurt!" I sharply hissed threw my teeth. Withering, I took a quick step away from the hard wooden shelf. Groaning, I wriggled my shoulders to try and rid myself of the dull ache. I directed my glare towards the boxes—those damn troublesome boxes.

"Fucking hell!” I shouted as my head shot down—clambering to once again to catch my footing. Something hard clattered to the floor.

My hands immediately flew up to hover over my throbbing head. "Are you—" I started, angrily perplexed as my mouth flayed. A slight ringing started to play within my ears as my befuddled gaze snapped down to the object that had assaulted me.

"Wha—what the-" I stammered. Fluttering away the tears that lined my eyes. I didn't know where I wanted my arms to be as they moved about.

"Are you kidding me?!" I snapped, nostrils flaring at the thick and heavy-looking box that laid on the floor.

It was black, with a printed image of pale arms holding a bright red apple. The bold, white lettering spelt: TWILIGHT THE COMPLETE SERIES.

Lifting my head, I peered up to the highest shelf that was overflowing with boxsets. My voice was caught in the foot of my mouth as I gapped.

'Seriously!?' I shouted in my head, the fact that someone had the ingenious idea to stack all the box-sets up high was a special kind of stupid.

My fingers came to graze the forming knot on my head. It was like touching fire as I breathed a sharp breath in.

"Fuck, that stings." Wincing I reluctantly brought my hand down as I looked towards the ladder.

'Hm, he must've left it to make room for the new shipment.' I mused, it was already set up and left open by most likely Caleb. It was left beside a shelf that had an unusual empty space. Cleared from any books and toys.

Taking the ladder, I shifted it across the floor. Moving it closer towards the tower of unopen boxes. My gaze flicked about the cramp storage room.

'Now to find those blasted cutters.' I groaned. The razor was never where you'd expect it to be.

Going about the small space, it honestly took me longer than I'd like to admit into finding the box cutters. The yellow safety cover did nothing to help in finding the thing.

My head continued to hurt, blooming into a headache as the bump sent burning waves of heated pain. The ringing in my ears continued to sound as I shuffled towards the ladder. Pulling myself up the narrow steps; only to pause as I fluttered my eyes.

My lips pulled into a frown of confusion as I slightly shook my head.

"Dude... am-am I seeing double?" I mumbled thanks to the safety cutters that were clamped between my teeth. Questioning such a thing as I honestly couldn't tell; placing my palm to my forehead. It did little to help as closed my eyes.

'Maybe... I should probably stop.' Contemplating the option, I sighed. 'After this, I'll let Caleb know I may need to go home.' I stated, more to myself as I continued to climb the limited steps.

It wasn't long until my head was level with the flat top of the carboard box. Slipping out the razor, I ran the sharp blade across the tape. Parting it down the middle, I returned the cutter back between my lips.

I paused—my vision only becoming worse as things were melting and moulding together, splitting in two and overlapping each other.

Gulping, a shiver ran down my spine as I tried levelling my breathing. It felt like I was on a boat, swaying back and forth and side to side—spinning out of control. It was dizzying and nauseating.

"Come on, you can do this." I slowly spoke to myself. Encouraging and making it a fact as I pulled open the flaps.

My shaky gaze spotted the tightly packed collection of books that were contained within. My eyes rolled to the floor; the back of my eyeballs pulsed.

'Now the hard part,' my fingers curled around the edge of the ladder. I started to lean off to the side, running the blade down the corners of the box. Scoring it as I paused halfway; stuffing the safety blade into my mouth.

I yanked the cut edge down as the sudden movement had the ladder tipping.

Gasping I threw myself into the metal—clinging to it, desperate to force it to leave out. But I couldn't as I came crashing down to the floor.

PROLOGUE : Part 2 of 4

PART ONE : PART TWO :

#Yandere #X Reader #Edward Cullen #jacob black #Yandere X Reader #Yandere Edward Cullen #Yandere Edward Cullen X Reader #Yandere Jacob Black #Yandere Jacob Black X Reader #Twilight #Yandere Twilight #Yandere Twilight X Reader

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magi-the-writer · 1 year ago

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| How would they react catching you in the act of wearing their clothes? |

: HUNTER X HUNTER EDITION :

: PART ONE :

: KURAPIKA :

I'd defiantly think that Kurapika would feel a mix of emotions as he'd gawk. Not in a perverted kind of way like some yandere's, but he'd certainly stare.

Mostly from shock.

Committing the sight of you to memory, The Kurta would be a little surprise, fuzzy inside and... well sadden at the sight.

If you meekly apologies and try to swiftly remove the freshly clean linin. Kurapika will stop you; not physically, but gently using his words as he holds his hand up from the door.

"(YN)... it's okay, you don't have to take it off... you honestly look lovely in it.... I-It fits you well..."

Kurapika won't be flustered like a few here, but his heart won't swell up with adoration, at least at first...

I like to think Kurapika would feel somewhat somber at the sight. Even if just for a moment after the shock has died down.

Just seeing you adorn in his clans garments makes him feel sort of forlorn, mostly because it reminds him of what was robbed from him.

His family and that they'll never get to see the woman he's fallen deeply in love with...

But after that initial feeling, Kurapika will feel warm and fuzzy. Knowing that they may not live to see this wonderful sight, but your future children will get to see this sight everyday.

And what's more? They will also be dressed in the traditional garb!

Slowly, the Kurta strolled into the room. Leaving the door ajar in his astonishment, Kurapika approached.

His grey eyes flickering up and down (YN)'s form. Taking in the way his old tabard sat loosely upon the (HC)-ett's shoulders.

He gently took the woman's soft hands into his.

Thumb caressing her knuckles softly with his barely calloused ones. His thin lips were pulled into a melancholy smile before it melted. Blooming into an adoring grin, he brought (YN)'s hand to his cheek. Leaning into her touch; it was so warm, comforting as it always felt like home.

His once grey eyes had ignited, burning that cursed sea of crimson that caused much misery. He was too busy drowning within his own thoughts of what the future will hold.

Unaware of how (YN)'s dimmed (EC) eyes stared longingly out to the parted door. Wishing nothing more than to flee the wounded male, but never holding the courage to shatter his already fractured heart.

: MACHI KOMACINE :

Machi wouldn't really react much, at least I believe she wouldn't.

Like, she wouldn't gasp or freeze up. Nor is she one to pounce on you the moment you realise that she is there. At most, Machi would flutter her lashes at the sight of you.

A little stunned at this unexpected event that was unfolding before her. However, Machi is not one of the few that would be all flustered or filled with adoration.

If anything, I believe she'd just watch for a moment. Observing as you struggle to tie the Obi around yourself. Clearly trying to copy the execution she'd do when getting ready.

And after that, Machi probably would call out to you with a mute tone.

"Just what are you doing?"

"I told you not to go through my things."

But in my personal visage of Machi, I'd say she'd feel a little annoyed that you went through her clothes.

Partly because you made a mess in your wake.

But because she doesn't like sharing her things.

Even if it's with someone she regards as her partner, Machi still feels as if it's not just a violation of her privacy. But also because she worries about her belongings being taken.

Or you finding the spare key's to the locks that keeps the front door sealed.

Even if it's a ridiculous notion to worry about. It still stresses her out.

But, after you apologies, Machi will feel kind of bad for telling you off. Especially if you look at her with your watery (EC) eyes. And how you'd clutch her obi tightly within your hands. Cradling the fabric close to your chest.

Unknitting her brows, Machi forced herself to relax.

You didn't mean any offence, if anything this is a sign that you're starting to get use to her. Her presence and excepting her--her as your lover, her as you're girlfriend...

But still, it's a little irritating that you went through her stuff without permission.

With a sigh, Machi approached. Snatching the Obi from your hands, the thief froze at how you flinch.

Peering up at your eyes, her breath hitched at how your pretty (EC) hues bubbled, water lining the edge of your lashes.

She looked off to the side, clicking her tongue in frustration. A small pout formed on her slim mouth.

Planting her dainty hands upon your arms, she twirled you around as she swiftly slipped the Obi around your waist.

"Stay still, I'll fasten the Obi."

: SHALLNARK :

Oh boy, this deadly, golden retriever serial killer is exactly like a puppy.

Any sight of you has his imaginary tail wagging with a purpose to fly.

Floppy ears perking up and dribbling drool in excitement. Panting at the enthralling sight of you.

I like to believe that this isn't the first time Shallnark has seen you in his clothes. And to put it bluntly, it will not be the last.

Though, to make it a point. Shallnark has never seen you do it in person.

This yandere is well aware that you go through his things all the time.

The clothes he's left coincidently left at your place.

I like to think Shallnark see's this as some sort of game. That leaves him as the winner.

He finds it adorable that you pick up his clothes. Looking them over; already use to this man's 'forgetful' nature.

He gets really, really excided when you slip on his sleeveless vests and sniffing his used jumpers. Trying on his clothes when you think you're alone.

'She's sleeping in my pants--ah, she looks so cute all curled up... I can't wait to get it back...'

He will never tell you that he knows about your habit. He doesn't want to spoil this little game... just yet.

And when he get's home, he's pretty much all over you. Trapping you into a hug that can last for an hour or more. And if you ask why, Shallnark will just use the classic excuse he always spills.

The cutesy chime of his phone sounded out loud in the quiet of the abandoned mansion.

The three that were sat around Shallnark paused. All eyes on the blond as the noise had caught Shallnark by surprise.

'Home already?' The blond mused, but none-the-less, the green-eyed adult settled his cards to the floor.

Abandoning them as he flicked his gaze. Landing onto the closest person that wasn't playing.

"Hey, can you take over--I have to take this." Standing up, he quickly pulled out his phone from his pocket.

Not really waiting for their reply as one of the players groaned. Verbalising their completes--but Shallnark wasn't listening.

All of them were well aware what that annoying tone meant.

The devil shaped device vibrated as Shallnark's gaze was glued to the screen. He retreated to somewhere privet, away from the others as his hands slightly trembled.

With a pounding heart and a fluttering warmth in his chest that left him feeling giddy.

A love-sick grin settled onto his face--pulling into an uncomfortable degree, the shine within his eyes would be disturbing to the average person.

He watched as you yet again discovered his unkept jacket that was thrown halfway on your bed.

He could really guess what you're thinking, and it only sent him higher to the moon as he watch--eating up your movements as you brought it to your nose.

He caressed the edge of the screen adoringly.

: PAKUNODA :

She'll melt if she saw you wearing something, anything of hers.

All flushed in the face, butterflies in her tummy and a desire to coddle you.

And I mean it, she'll become putty if you are wearing her shoes, rolling up her stocking over your knee, pulling her top down your head, flashing off her pants in the mirror, twirling in her skirt, smoothing out her dress or pressing your lips together after applying her lipstick.

It's as simple as that.

She'll be positively glowing at the sight.

Her stoic face would morph into a loving smile and her cheeks will be dusted in a light pink. Her attention fully on you.

Pokunoda will be on cloud nine at the magnificent sight.

Even if you freeze up, covering yourself and trying to come up with excuses. Quickly trying to stuff the clothes back into the draws as neatly as you could.

She wouldn't care that you went through her stuff like Machi, or the few others.

She always carries around the little receiver that tracts your location.

This is all but a sign--a positive one that you are finally staring to get comfortable. Relaxed if you're taking out her things when she's not around.

"You look so beautiful."

She'll softly say; and she fucking means it.

Compliments will be flowing off her tongue; it'll be an endless onslaught with no seeming end.

Pokunoda is just a bottomless pit of adoration, love and devotion.

"Baby," Pokunoda called in a breathless, sultry voice. Her painted lips curled into an adoring smile. Her eyes were hooded as her caramel brown hues rolled.

Tracing over (YN)'s form, taking in how the clothes (YN) had slung on themselves sat upon her lover.

She approached, her bare feet tapped silently against the creaky wooden floors. Her slim fingers dragging along (YN)'s smooth skin.

Feeling the goose-bumps that littered their (ST) flesh. Pokunoda stalked behind the (EC) eyed beauty.

Her lanky arms coiled around (YN)'s waist. Pulling them flush against her heavy chest that pressed against their back.

The dangerous woman (YN) had come to live with laid her chin upon (YN)'s (HC) hair.

"You're so gorgeous..." Pokunoda spoke, her words filled with love. Her brown eyes peering to the glass, gaze locked upon the relection of (YN)'s eyes.

She pressed her weight onto (YN). Leaning onto them as she sighed.

"Absolutely perfect."

: CHROLLO LUCILFER :

Ah... Chrollo is a bit difficult for me seeing as he can pretty much go anyway.

But in my humble opiuon, Chrollo seems like the type to pause and watch quietly from the side.

I don't think he'd just walk in, approach you and start whispering sweet nothings into your ear like Pokunoda.

Nor will he just kind of stand there, unsure of what to make of this and what to do like the few others.

Rather, I think Chrollo would lean against the doorframe, or at the most walk inside the room, but sit on the edge of the bed. Or press his back onto a wall in plain sight.

Really, I like to think Chollo will wait until you turn around and find him. Or flick your eyes to the background reflected on the mirror and spot him there.

Though, how he'd feel towards catching you... Personally, I believe he'd find it humorous and also endearing and a bit arousing.

Especially if you're messing around in his coat.

By that, I mean that you're impersonating him, or just playing with it.

Chrollo isn't the type to be annoyed like a few would be, or angry that you went through his things like Machi is.

Nor is he worried like most of these yandere's that you'd somehow find the keys, or escape from him... because there is no place in this world you could go without him finding you.

Truly, I like to think Chrollo really enjoys seeing this side of you.

Seeing you enjoy yourself by poking harmless fun at him.

Chrollo especially gets a twisted sense of arousal, catching you in something he wears when committing various atrocities that violates the law.

'God, the things I will do to you... just wait my dear; you will be begging for me soon.'

It has his blood rushing down low and stirring what could be concised 'the beast' within him. And it truly doesn't help that Chrollo is sexual frustrated as you won't let him touch you...

This sight--just geneually seeing you like this, It get's his head all clouded as he is swimming while his throat goes all taught.

Sinking into the chair that was directly behind (YN). Chrollo rested his elbows onto his knees, slouching in the chair as his grey eyes stared dead ahead.

Locked upon his darlings swaying figure; observing every movement they made from the spot they stood before the mirror.

From swaying on one foot to another, opening their arms and flapping them. Bellowing laughter at how the sleeves flopped.

'God, your laughter is so enchanting...' Chrollo sighed, he could listen to it all day. Maybe he could capture it in a record and play it on repeat?

His carnal gaze ate up the curves and dips that his coat hid. Only to be reveiled everytime (YN) wrapped the thing tightly around themself.

Chrollo couldn't help but gulp at how his coat slipped from their shoulders. Laying trapped by their bent elbows.

The way (YN)'s voice turned slightly pompous as they brought their cheap imitation of himself.

An amused smile twinged upon Chrollo's lips as suddenly, (YN) froze up. Like an inset under the intense gaze of a preditor. Their voice fell silent.

"Hm? My darling, what's wrong? Don't let me stop you; continue what you were doing... Just pretend I am not even here."

: NOBUNAGA HAZAMA :

Nobunaga is a bit of a weird dude to write, seeing as the consciences for his character on tumblr is a delusional, infantising yandere.

However, I'll give him a shot.

Personally, I like to believe that after Nobunaga has opened the front door and discovered you lounging on the couch. Wearing only his grey, long sleeved tee.

Both of you staring at one another as a beat of silence rung within the room.

Without a doubt in my mind, Nobunaga's head would be empty--he couldn't think as the thief would just continue to stare.

But, once the surprise had simmered away and he's finally realised that he's caught you.

I like to think that Nobunaga will most likely feeling a mix of paranoia, adoration and irritation.

Truly, I believe Nobunaga is one of the yandere's that'll pretty much over thinks everything you do.

He can't help it, he is constantly pluaged with intrusive thoughts day in and out. From you trying to leave, to others trying to take you away, to you trying to trick him in order to escape.

"What are you doing, why are you in my shirt?"

Nobunaga will have a thousand questions lined up for you from the jump.

Pretty much interrogating you without trying to seem like he is.

Locking the door behind him and coming over. Sitting insufferably close on the couch. Framing his barrage of questions as usual, every day questions about a partners time alone.

Even when you explain as calmly as you could. Answering all his quarries diligently, and assuring him that it's not some ploy.

It's still not enough.

Though, Nobunaga can't help but eat up the way you wear his shirt and only his shirt.

It pretty much has Nobunaga feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. But also hot and bothered.

It's hard for Nobunaga to contain it--these raging feelings that bash heads constantly. The thief desired nothing more than to suffocate you in his love, fighting the urge to drown you in hugs and kisses, to burn his touch on your skin and take in your smell.

But, that little voice in his head always whispers.

What if you tried to use that against him?

So, Nobunaga refrains. he dosn't want to scare you with his overwhelming desires.

And that irritates him beyond belief.

The fact that he can't just admire you in his shirt. Accept the fact that you are just wearing something of his just because. However, he can't. His mind ruins everything.

"For the last time, I was just asking some questions." Nobugana stated, his arm was propped across the bathroom door as his forehead was pressed into his arm.

"Now I can't ask you snything?" His long fingers clutched onto the door handle tightly. Struggling to keep his impulses at bay.

"Just... stop being so--so... (YN), come out so we can talk about this." Nobunaga continued to speak, pausing for a second, only to change the words he was going to say swiftly. Knowing that what he was about to utter would have made this a hole lot harder.

Nobunaga wanted to tame the flame, not stroke it.

But, the thief was met with a sputter of irrupted sounds from behind the bathroom door before it became silent once again.

'Just that the hell is she doing in there?' gulping, Nobunaga's jaw tightened. Clenching tightly as he took a breath in.

'Is she trying to leave; no, the window is too small... shit--what if she can squeeze herself through it though?' His breath stuttered at the thought.

"Come on, open the door." Rattling the nob, he didn't dare turn it. The was no lock to keep him out. Though, it really wouldn't himder him if there was one.

Nobunaga continued.

"Is it because I kept asking why you're in my shirt? I didn't mean to upset you." Nobunaga's voice was forcefully smooth out. Trying to sound calm and collected. Even though his mind raced with paranoid ramblings.

"I just wanted to know why you decided to put on one of my shirts. Come on (YN), please let me in."

#Yandere #X reader #Yandere X reader #hunter x hunter #yandere hunter x hunter #Yandere Hunter X Hunter X Reader #Yandere Kurapika #Yandere Kurapika X Reader #Yandere Machi #Yandere Machi X Reader #Yandere Shalnark #Yandere Shalnark X reader #Yandere Pokunoda #Yandere Pokunoda X reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #Yandere Chrollo Lucilfer #Yandere Nobunaga #Yandere Nobunaga X reader

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magi-the-writer · 1 year ago

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‘How long has it been?’

I couldn’t help but ask myself, staring blankly at the ceiling like the many times before.

The room was dark, done so purposefully—with both the bedroom and bathroom door closed tightly. The thick curtains were drawn and even the shutters were brought down. All in an attempt to keep me in the dark.

But it wasn’t entirely pitch black.

The warm glow of the light within the hallway leaked in through the edges of the doorframe. Lighting that part of the hall in a dim warmth.

‘Maybe he feels bad?’

That is a question I know is a lie.

But the dim glow truthfully wasn’t enough for me to keep myself entertained by tracing over each expensive painting that hung on the walls.

Going over every line like I had painted it myself—guessing how and which stroke of the brush was done and came first. Or how—after getting bored from that, I’d move on to watching the small bugs that zip around the ceiling light.

Only to die and fall by the small jumping spiders that like to live within the fancy glass.

I was left in here by that man to stare at the dark. Mostly to,

're-think my resent behaviour,’

and

‘come up with a suitable apology for my childish act.’

‘Honestly, it was so stupid.’ I couldn’t help but remark to myself. Whether it truly was a reflection of my actions, or a statement in regards to something else.

What else could it be—at this point, it could honestly be anything.

My teeth chewed at the inner-side of my cheeks, having nothing else to do but that small act of self-mutilation.

I knew there wasn’t much point in wriggling about this bed like a worm. Even when I’ve crinkled the god-awful satin sheet, somehow nudging the thick duvets to the floor and pulled up the matching fitted sheet with nothing but my exposed toes.

In the end, all that hard work only gets me encased within the cool fabric that I distain and ultimately exhausted.

And truth be told, it would be satisfying if only to serve as a minor annoyance to the man that dub himself as my lover.

But in reality, all it really does is cause the devil to chuckle a the hilarity of the sight.

He’ll come in when he believes i have learnt my lesson. Lean against that door and say something with amusement, the condescension hidden under his carefully crafted words. Hiding it so well, even I struggle to spot it.

That, and he’ll smile lovingly as if my little act of defiance isn’t a future inconvenience at all.

Just to saunter to my bedside, lanky fingers brushing through my staticy hair. Pulling the strands that hid my face from his view. Reveling my forehead as he'd place a soft kiss upon the crown of my head with his bottom-heavy lips.

Just to leave me like I am now, to wallow in my spite and shiver in regret as he’d turn the AC down just that slightest bit.

To be a petty betty as he’d wear that stupid grin at my pitiful state. Knowing full well there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

All that I am and would have been, taken. Robbed all in one night; all I have left are memories, memories that have been tainted and ruined in some form of way by him.

‘I have to go and delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control… but what else am I supposed to do?’ Frowning, the frustrated tears prickled my eyes once again.

Stinging the already puffy and irritated skin that surrounded my eyes.

Other then this, crying is the only thing I can do. And it only frustrates me more.

Outside of my delusions of grandeur, I have nothing. Everything I own either doesn’t belong to me, and the things that I once owned are gone.

Him… him, him, him, him, HIM!

…

God, I hate it. I hate him—and yet, I can’t find it in myself to despise him…

Out of everything he’s done, out of all that he’s shown me… never once did he do something to make me loath him.

‘It’s so fucking sick,’

Disgust.

I am so disgusted with myself.

I can’t find it in my soul to blame him—I know I should. Everything is his fault, but I can’t.

In some twisted way, I place the ounces on myself.

He may have placed the restraints, but I caused the chaffing that now caused my writs to bleed. His soft touches and lingering hugs and sickly-sweet kisses that he gives me… it’s all my fault.

I wouldn’t be dressed and bounded in the one fabric I despised next to felt and velvet if only I stop deluding myself.

And yet, I can’t—I can’t except that nothing will ever be normal with him.

I can’t except that I am a prisoner here and he’s the warden that dictates the show. I can’t except that I’ll never return home again. To be surrounded by my family… and that all of this is just some silly, little nightmare within a dream.

‘If only we lived in a perfect world…’

Closing my eyes, in a perfect world the son of Lucifer would have never grown possessed. Never become obsessed—never fell into the false-sunken fallacy that was the idea of being in love with me.

The slow drawn of the door’s hinges had dragged me back to the present. The warm glow of the hallway’s light flooded the room.

Casting the four walls in a faded glow, I didn’t need to guess who it was standing at the door.

His figure blocked some of the light, casting an unintentional elongated silhouette that stretched from the doorway and came right out from my nightmares.

Traveling along the floor, over the bed—shadowing my bounded form and against the wall.

‘I don’t need a paralysis demon when I have him.’ I dryly laughed at the bland joke.

He was akin to a monster from the deepest depths anyways.

Though I doubt I’d ever voice my thoughts about him. So, I remained quiet. My throat unintentionally clenched as my heart started to beat faster within my chest.

I was nervous—no, anxious for what was to come as I always was around him. Especially after punishments. Even though he’s never laid a hand upon me once as a punishment.

‘Well in a non-abusive way anyway’s.’ I noted, recalling the copious number of times when the palm of his hand would roll.

Caressing the sides of my arms, groping my waist and grabbing hips. Ghosting my behind when he’s forced me to sit in his lap… or when that one time. The time where I was the weakest… where I craved some form of comfort.

A time where I nearly begged him to rub my stomach, to place pressure over the cramps that left me feeling feeble in the knees.

How his fingers would brush my cheeks, run through my hair and attentively attempt to brush against what lays between my thighs.

Or how he’ll hold me against his chest as we sleep, his grip never faltering—even when he slept… it was something akin to young child, clinging onto a stuffed toy for dear life.

An attempt to make them forget the shouting of your parents and the smashing of ceramics.

But perhaps that’s me projecting. A small part of me, a part from a past long since gone. Creeped, making me wonder…

‘When will he snap? When will his patience’s run dry… and—and…’ The thought alone had my heart sinking, and the pit in my stomach attempting to swallow me hole.

A fear of mine that ran deep since I was little; I’ve seen the things he’s done, just the memory alone makes me nauseous, and once again. I feel like I’m back to being a child when he’s around.

Helpless.

“Darling,” the soft drawl of his voice was like honey-due.

Sweet… homely and devious with hidden intent.

A beat of silence rung; sometimes I wished he could never tell if I was awake or asleep. I wish he was as clueless as I am each night when I lay awake.

Sleepless from the countless rampt thoughts that kept my brain from subcoming to melatonin.

I’d find myself staring at his peaceful face as he’d slumber for hours.

Undisturbed by the monstrosities he and his gang of thieves have caused through the years.

Sometimes my hand has a mind of its own, I’d find myself brushing his raven locks from his face. Tucking the silky strands behind his ears.

Sometimes he’ll wake up, it always startles me. But I felt angry when he’d sleepily snuggle his cheek into my open palm. Sniffing my wrist as his eyes stared into my own with… with something akin to adoration.

And I fucking loath it.

But other times, he remained unshaken. Fast asleep as his pale skin was like the moon in the dark. Soft and illuminous under the soft glow.

And at nights like that, he looks absolutely stunning.

And for all the nights, where I’m too stir-crazy to drift to sleep. I find myself questioning.

‘I wonder if he regret the choices he’s made? Do he also have nightmares of his past… is he just as haunted by his childhood like I am?’

Is that why he is the way he is?

God, am I possessed by the ghost of my past the longer I am trapped here with him. Memories I believed I had long since forgotten, or never even knew existent came bursting to the forefront.

I could be doing anything…

Showering, eating, reading, laying in bed or on the couch. Forced to cuddle in the arms of my abductor.

Terrible, calamitous memories that have me quietly weeping into my hands when I am alone…

Or just one day collapsing into a heaping mess before the devil.

It’s a wonder as to why my older sisters turned out the way they did…

Sometimes, I wish to bleach my eyes.

Burn them with the fancy candles the demon brings to my feet as gifts to show his affection. I have to resist the urge to claw them from my skull, to finally have peace from the hideous flashes of what that man I call my father did…

Other times, I crave to ram the burrow my kidnapper would use in his puzzles. When he’s not quiet in the mood to read, I like to imagen how deep that black pen would go into my ear.

All so that I can silence my sisters please, to mute my mother’s cries of regret.

But instead of the man that loitered over my childhood. Crushing—destroying any semblance of my innocents and casting an endless fear that tremor still to this day… My phobia of falling in love with anyone, in a deep apprehension of falling into an endless cycle of abuse.

It was him. The man that stood at the door, my kidnapper and self-proclaimed lover.

Chrollo Lucifer

But like how I couldn’t read him most of the time, it was the opposite for him. Chrollo could read me like a book.

Picking me off from the shelf that is surrounded by many other books he has collected. I was apparently his favourite to read—out of all his favourites. Something he’ll never grew tired of… or so he proclaims.

He will trace his hand over my cover, caressing the thick spine and spreading open my pages. His eyes reading every word inside, annotating and studying everything written upon the fickle pages. Memorising each sentence and dissecting that of my life tale.

He was a terrifying force of nature.

“I see you’ve kept yourself busy,” his eyes traced over the bedding. Seeing the satin sheet crumped on the floor, once again rejected and abandoned along with the duvet that hanged halfway off the bed.

The velvet fabric showing where I brushed up against the tuff.

And the pillows were pressed to the ends of the bed...

What else did he expect?

“I hope whatever is left of your tantrum had subsided—I’d hate for you to stay like this.” With a tilt of his head, I couldn’t see his face, the warm glow of the ceiling light never reached it… or perhaps it casted the truth.

Showcasing the true him.

I couldn’t help how my body trembled. It was such a struggle to remind myself that even though Chrollo is a horrible being. There are monsters that exceeded him in other ways.

The shadow that casted over his face was a reflection of his soul.

Black and rotten, the symbol of a demonic evil that will possess your soul. And from greed, he will consume you until there is nothing left…

Or prophases it’s a reflection of who Chrollo really is. Under the mask that is the skin of his flesh that makes up all his gentlemanly suave and charming nature. Lays an empty man. Someone that has nothing is nothing.

Hollow from his past, gutted by a void that is ever consuming.

Sucking in everything like a vacuume, love… hate… envy… gluttony. He collects it all, an endless appetite to become someone, to be someone who he isn’t. All so that he could fulfill the emptiness that forever lives inside him.

And like predicted, the repeat in his behaviour was close to clock work as he walked.

Entering our shared bedroom—but unlike the usual. Unlike what I expected, instead of heading to the bedside, where he’d kneel down to stare at my back.

The antichrist or broken child; depending on how one would veiw a shattered man like Chrollo began crawl straight across the bed.

My breath hitched as it wasn’t long before he replaced his shadow. Hovering over me, his arms caged me under him—I felt so, so small beneath him.

The white button up tucked into the tux slacks that were held by his belt.

This was Chrollo’s casual wear, with his hair down—framing his face, the middle was parted to show off his forehead. The tattoo stood out against his pale skin. My eyes remained trained on his face, staring up into his black eyes.

The obsidian hues were true to the analogy of when you stare into the void, it stares back.

I never know what Chrollo is thinking.

“Hm, though. I see you have yet to pull off the fitted sheet…” His eyes drifted to the white linin that clung to the mattress underneath. The silky thing continued to cause an irrational ire.

My sense of smell was consumed by his colonel. And admittedly, the smell was good. Pleasant to my nose and at times, helped ease my anxiety.

And that only irritated me beyond what is normal.

His cold hand moved, gently cupping my cheek. His lips pressed into a frown; his thumb brushed under my puffy eye.

Swiping at the tear stained cheek, he leaned down.

Forehead pressing to mine, his breath reeked of expensive wine.

And like many things in this world.

I despised alcohol.

It makes people do terrible things… or it only pushes the true you out for the world to see…

Either way, alcohol is a sin that ruins more lives than people realise.

“You’ve been crying again…” he mused, though his tone lacked any sense of amusement. His eyes were half-lidded, an obvious sign that the alcohol was affecting him… or maybe it’s something else.

There are times it seems Chrollo enjoys it when I weep.

Maybe it’s because when I cry, I cling to him because he’s the only living thing that’ll whisper affirming words. He’ll gladly hug me back, holding me firmly and easing away my sorrows—it’s the only moment where I genially hug him.

Not because he asked, or forced me into one, but because I desire to feel safe… to feel something other than depression. Something that isn’t the consuming worry of becoming like my mother.

A fucking coward.

Or maybe because he enjoys consuming my suffering, perhaps it’s a way to make him feel better. Or because he’s a monster. A demon, a devil—Lucifer incarnate.

Either way, it’s a mystery.

“(YN)”

Drawing me from the depths of my thoughts, his nose slid beside my own as his eyes closed.

Pressing down on my legs, he sat upon them, and just like my hands, my ankles were bounded just as tightly.

His other hand moved, laying against my chest. Just above the protrusion of my breasts. His hand slipped. Sliding up my collarbone and up my arm. Closing in on the silk restraints.

“Be good for me, and I will untie you.”

He spoke in a whisper, his tone still sticky like honey...

“…alright,” my voice, barely above a whisper. Near close to just being mute slipped from my throat.

Maybe he’s like my father… maybe he’s different—or perhaps he’s something else entirely.

Chrollo’s frown turned, a smile—so small, but noticeable enough appeared.

With a simple tug, the binds came undone as he pressed his lips gently against my own in a chaste kiss.

And all that I could conclude when his one kiss turned to two. That swiftly delve into something a kin to passion.

even if it means I live within a delusion, failing to admit that I am already there.

All I can do now… is hope he isn’t. Pray to a dead god that might not even exist he’s different… that Chrollo won’t fill the role in a cycle I wish to never repeat in.

But at the end of the day, I disgust myself.

…

Because I wish, I hope and pray to the real devil that Chrollo is a monster to everyone but me… That he isn’t like my father. And never commit the sins that he inflicted upon my siblings and that coward I call a mother.

I hope the past never repeats…

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