cookie run reader oneshots.

you fell in love.

try to guess who it is😫
trigger warnings-
cigarettes, smoking, assassination.
it was a matter of minutes, but he had already enraptured your feelings on first encounter. his soft, curly hair came and went with the wind. his glistening eyes an accessory to his inclined demeanor. his dark toned skin ever so warm and soft.
soon, you two never parted.
his scent never leaving you.
"y/n?" he would call, hanging above the balcony, his seemingly candied scent leading you atop your roof. you would find his figure perched, his eyes watching you. beckoning you to join him, you complied.

your heart skipped a beat.

he was too beautiful, so eloquent.

'twas not, a simple crush.

he pulled out what seemed to be a pack of cigars, handing you one as well. retrieving a lighter from behind the flower headpiece, and brung the flame to the cigarette. the flame pronouncing itself against the starry sky. as you did the same, inhaling an comforting amount of smoke.
pressing your palms against the wavy roof, the scenery not making worthy of attention, instead, your intent was focused on the man beside you.
beauty.
he was the epitome of beauty.
his scent befitting of his stature, as he swayed and watched.
he was always busy, so he paced himself against time just to visit, his scent the red carpet to his arrival.
his day-time job was never what one would, or should expect.

an assassin.

his task was to stain his figure with crimson, to carry the burden of sin.
it shouldn't have been a quality to attract you.
yet it did. only to your knowledge after a nice comfortable chat.
it only added to your infatuation with him. you've, of course, never involved yourself with such job, as he forbade you, saying how the path was a perilous one. lovely. another memory that branched itself into your mind.
it was november.
you were hovering above your papers, your job never sparing you a moment. all of a sudden, i don't want to set the world on fire sounded from the window, and his scent was flown through it. on cue, you reached out to the window, where he came. a radio in hand.
you invited him in. it was cold outside, so you offered the warmth of the a/c. he graciously accepted it, setting himself on your bed. he had distracted you from your work that day, due to the music and his occasional small talk, which you soon found all your work finished, with a note in eloquent writing, which he had penned down to apologize, and in return had done the work for you.

these gestures were ever not so small, and bought you back to reality.

where the stars were.
the celestial beings above.
where they could never shine more than this man.
the man beside you.
the man with the lilac scent.