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hhighkey · 1 year ago

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Taken // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: Stockholm syndrome, implied past kidnapping, reader kidnapped by stalker!hunter, attempted force marriage, attempted sa, violence, injuries, murder, I mean phantom troupe, time skips and flashbacks, unprotected sex, uvo is a manhandler, size kink, emotional reunions, nobu may be ooc, female reader Note: this mayyy be 14k words, edited for grammar, ao3 link: xxx , link for part 2

It was a night like any other whilst Uvogin was away on Troupe business. You were left to your own devices as your body slowly healed. Sensitive lungs and throat from all the coughing, chest weak with each breath- even going from one room to the next pushed your limits. But you still insisted that Uvogin needed to begin partaking in Troupe business again, that you'd still be alive when he'd return. No need for his excessive worrying.

Your fingers graced gingerly along the dimly lit screen on your lap. Curled up on your bed with a multitude of plush blankets atop, stuffed animals at your side, a glass of water on the side table. This was contentment. Peace and quiet, not that you didn't miss Uvogin's loudness as he stomped around the apartment. It feels empty when he's gone and normally you'd count down the hours till his return, but this was your first night without him in months. Your overly clingy brute of a boyfriend, once former captor, that owned your body and soul. The man you gave your love to.

The sound of an unlocking door was amiss to you. You were lost in your own world of the words on the screen that you don't hear the creaking floor boards as a multitude of footsteps creep about. Hushed whispers as weapons were drawn, all before the door to your room burst open.

"Wha-" You shriek at the men storming into the room, tumbling out of bed as your head hit the wall.

Backing into the corner, a man with curly blonde hair strides from the sea of darkly cloaked men.

"W-Who are you?" You were shaking, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Practically able to feel your heart hammering out your chest, "Please don't hurt me,"

"We won't hurt you. We're with the Hunter Association, you know what that is correct?" The man began to approach you like you were a scared animal cornered in the wild.

You nod hesitantly, but a twisted sense of safety comes over you until you remember that Uvogin and the others were criminals.

"I understand you've been held here by a member of the Phantom Troupe?"

"I live here with my boyfriend."

"How sad." The man stepped closer so much you could feel his breath- he grasped your wrist like you were nothing but a rag doll. Dragging you from the corner, making you stumble over your feet to the floor. Crying out in pain your knees burned from the contact, palms skidding as you were dragged right back up.

"Leave me! I want to stay!" You pleaded.

His eyes darkened, as he manhandled you, hand firm on your jaw forcing you to look at him. Yet his grasp was harsh and unflinching, a coldness shivered through you as your gazes connected, "I'm here to rescue you from that beast."

"I don't need to be rescued," You said meekly, a single tear running down your cheek.

Your body hurts. Lungs taut as if each breath was like intaking sandpaper against the meek organs you once needed medicine to keep alive.

Looking around you let out a heavy sigh. Forced to settle into yet another room they've tossed you in, like a show pony for a revolving door of visitors. Poking and prodding at you. Talking down at you like you're a child— reprimanding each time you insist you love Uvogin, as if you couldn't possibly have genuine feelings. They'd get frustrated, throw things as you beg to be returned to the apartment you once resided. It confused you— why the head Hunter, Bates, who'd carried you out of your home cares so much, you've never met him!

How long has it been? Maybe a month you assumed from the glimpses of changed calendars you caught sight of. But your senses were dulled at this point, from constant moving and drugs forced into your system to keep you pliant. They keep you confused about your location as they thrust you from each hiding spot to keep going forward.

But you were fully awake now though, on alert with the knots in your stomach wound tightly. Staring at the same cream walls with crude art for the last two days, the books at your table side ones you have no interest in. You're thankful to have a window in what you imagine is a small fortress of a house. The air is too cold for you, for months Machi insisted you needed warmth and no fresh air, your lungs couldn't handle it. So you think you're relapsing somewhat as you feel your stomach grumbling.

Food comes at the same hours of the day. A random Hunter sets it down with an emphatic smile and locks you in the room once more. But this time, lunch isn't dropped off for you to be left to your own devices. Because someone else is walking through the door frame that leaves you with a bad feeling in your gut screaming at you to run.

It's him. Your throat went dry, a lump forming as you attempted to speak, to argue for him to leave. The sound of the door slamming behind as he walks over with a plate in hand, makes you flinch.

"Morning," Bates smiled, an empty grin that sent a chill down your spine. You hadn't seen him since he'd taken you from Uvogin, though as his eyes bore into you, you know they've been on you.

You only nod, shuffling further back on your bed until you've grabbed the blankets to your front like a shield. You're up against the wall at the head of your bed, sitting upon plush pillows with dilated pupils carefully watching him approach.

He's too close for your liking. And every inch of you freezes as Bates reaches out to rub his thumb along your cheek, and when you shy away, he frowns, "why do you fear me? Fight us trying to help you?"

"I didn't need help," you murmur, voice gravelly from the lack of using it.

"It's sad, really." Bates sets down the plate of food on your side table, then pulls a chair over from the small table in the corner. It dragged, loud and destitute to your ears as you scowled, "why'd you have to give in?You can't really love him can you?"

"I do." You want to put up more of a fight but your hoarse voice and dimmed eyes do you nothing. Your response reeks of pity.

"All the therapists from the Hunter's Association I've brought in for you- why don't they help? Why do they keep telling me they think your feelings are real? It's only Stockholm syndrome, you know."

"You don't know anything." you snap.

"I don't?" he responds condescendingly.

And he doesn't.

Your mind goes rampant with memories you've shared with Uvogin, the only thing keeping you sane. Just daydreaming about how he cares for you with that shit eating grin, how you watch ridiculous reality tv together after a cooking fail. How since falling ill he never left your side- staying up with you through bloodied coughing fits, rubbing your back as you finally drift off to sleep. You miss his calloused, large, thick fingers prodding at your soft skin. You miss his gargantuan body compared to yours and how he envelopes your entirety. And you all but shudder thinking how you miss his giant cock filling you whole, turning you into nothing but a babbling, overstimulated mess. Now you're left falling asleep to his phantom touches praying you'd dream of him— that you'd awake to him saving you.

"If he can take you and have you fall for him, then the same can happen for me. For us."

Your eyes widen, as dread whooshes through your body, "What are you talking about?" you sniffle, knuckles turning white from your involuntarily tightening grip on the blanket.

"I'm going to marry you."

"You don't know me.."

Bates lets out a heavy sigh as he begins a monologue that seems to make matters even more real for you, "me and my men, we're not stupid. Five years ago we were formed to take down the Phantom Troupe, spending our lives training to amount to their skill. But to run in blind? Never. Three years now, we've followed them, learning all we can without them finding out. Shouldn't that show you why they haven't found us yet? We've outsmarted them, and you'll never see the monster that took you. That I can protect you."

"What.."

"I had just started working as a Hunter with our group, on my second month tailing Uvogin when he took you. I was surprised that I hadn't known about you in my time watching. I felt as if I failed you, we should have been able to be more proactive to keep you from him. You're beautiful Y/N, so small and ethereal, kind and loving, and too good for that beast. He took you from all you know and love, I'll gladly bring you home to your family as your husband and make sure you keep the freedoms you once lost."

His words shake your core. "Y-you're insane." is all you manage to mutter out, "you've stripped me of my freedoms when you took me."

"This is all to keep you safe. Just give it more time, yeah?"

"No.."

"But isn't this what he did with you? Locked you away and now you gladly spread your legs for him?" Bates spat bitterly.

"No, it's different." Maybe it wasn't. And that makes your chest tighten even more as you recount your first few days, to weeks to months with Uvogin. How scared you'd been while he was nothing but accommodating, gentle— patient. How he'd buy everything you loved from ice cream to books, desperately trying to gain your attention. But you enjoyed his humor, his roughness that made you find comfort in him. You're one who doesn't need human contact, you had no issue spending months in a room with no one but your books. And you did that for a while. Until, you found yourself enjoying his company. Uvogin's stupid commentary on movies or intrigue about your books, begging you to read to him. He gave you your space, let you do all your own cooking and tasks. Even let you out once in a while as long as you stayed by his side. Uvogin was different from the others with those they'd taken- he let you keep yourself- you. You remind yourself you love him, that it's genuine, especially based on the multitude of reactions from recent professionals coming by. Nothing had ever been forced between you and Uvogin after he'd taken you, which you battered him for occasionally, that he could have whisked you away in a more natural sense of things—

"It's not!" His anger from your sudden silence makes you jump. You hadn't realized minutes had gone by that he watched your frozen face with eyes seemingly miles away. "You're thinking about him."

"Let me go. Why risk all your lives for me? You know what's going to happen." You wanted to put on a brave face, trying to reason with him that the reality of this was bad.

"Because I love you."

Your mouth suddenly had a sour taste in it as your tongue licked along the backs of your front teeth. Holding your tongue you feel dejected, looking down, "Then let me go."

Bates's skin on yours felt wrong. You felt gross as his fingers danced along your skin, the wall behind you not letting you escape. With a knee on the bed, he's leaning over to you too fast for you to respond. His eyes hold nothing but disdain, a sickness that not even members of the Phantom Troupe hold. Or maybe you view them with rose colored glasses at this point as they're the ones Uvogin lets you around the most. But these Hunters, you hate them.

"Get out." You try to say with as much strength as you can muster. Trying to make yourself appear angry, scary.

He sighs, "No, not until-" and he kisses you all sloppy and wet. Trying to force his tongue into your mouth as you clamp your lips tight as possible, pushing against him, kicking at him. You're on fire as he tries to push forward, licking and nibbling along your bottom lip with grunts, unpleased grounds. He was stronger and tried to grasp parts of your body, tried to pull at your nightgown and you're suddenly able to pull yourself together. The adrenaline that courses through you allows you to kick him as hard as possible in the gut, the wind stolen right from his lungs as he stumbled back. Piercing eyes meet your gaze and as Bates struggles to breathe, he's back on you.

Hand on your neck, fingers squeezing so the corners of your vision begin to blacken, throat wheezing for air. Your eyes spasm as you see a nasty grin go across the Hunter's face until— he lets go, suddenly, backing away. Like a switch was flipped he looked as if he was in despair,

"I- Y/N, I'm sorry." what the fuck, "I promise you this," His eyes narrowed, "I won't touch you until our wedding night."

And he spun on his heels, stopping only because you called out to him, "Hey! When.. When will we marry?"

"Hm, it takes a bit to plan a wedding and we need time to get further from the Troupe. Few months." He said it so casually, you hated it.

You were breathing hard as he left. Your hair clung to your face and neck as sweat moistened your skin. Finally relaxed from the sound of the door locking from the other side. But you were far from safe.

It was hard to focus. All you can do is think. Not caring for the food sitting just a foot away, your hunger is gone anyways. You feel invaded and hurt. Confused. Your mind is racing from the news you've received, at the worst case scenarios of it all. Imagining walking down the aisle to a man you don't love shakes you to the core, has you slumped over with half lidded eyes staring down. You'd anxiously bitten and torn your nails until they bled, your fingers looked ugly, you thought as you peered at them.

You're tired, oh so tired. Your body needs the sleep that it's blatantly screaming for as it shuts down. The lack of sleep was getting to you as you worried your body is giving into your illness you worked so hard to rid of. You don't count the drugs they pump into you as a form of sleep. So when you're awake, you're vigilant and scared so you're forcing yourself to stay up until you can't any longer. The hairs stood tall on the back of your neck with nerves swarming in your stomach.

Funny, maybe you're even flattered that two men have gone out their way to stalk you, to learn all about you to fall in love. To even kidnap you. But it was such a stark difference between Uvogin and Bates, at least in your mind.

Or is your mind playing tricks on you? The air that leaves your lips feels thick, your heart plummeting. No. It's different. It has to be. Because you're going cold, palms clammy as you're running through memory after memory. You hadn't doubted your feelings for Uvogin or the situation in years, not since the first time you told him you loved him— When you were 21, Uvogin took you when you were 20.

As you eventually give into sleep, you were left wondering when Uvogin or another Spider was going to come traipsing through the door. To take you back to the life you were beginning to mourn for.

Uvogin hit rewind once more; watching the video footage for the nth time with brows furrowed, and a silent rage evident through tensed muscles. Over and over Shalnark told him to quit how harshly he jabbed down on the mouse and keyboard alike, that he'd break them. But all Uvogin cared for were the figures on the dimmed screens. The ones clad in uniform that whisked you away.

You begged them to leave you. Begged them not to touch you, that you were confused and scared of them bursting in. How you pushed them away shrinking into the corner of your shared room. The fear sparkling in your eyes evident even from the camera and it twists his chest tight, makes the air thick as if he's losing the will to breathe. The hairs of his skin stand tall, limbs shuddering in vexation that could not be calmed.

How dare they. He'd kill every last one of them, let their blood stain the ground as their heads would ooze brain matter.

You were still recovering from a months-long battle with an illness that had you both nervous for your health. You needed your sleep, food even if you couldn't keep it down, and certainly no stress— in hindsight Uvogin knew he shouldn't have left for this job, Chrollo told him you came first but you were on the up! It was only supposed to be a few days! And now these mystery figures- he assumes Hunters- have taken you from him.

And hours turned into days. Days that Shalnark, somehow, couldn't find you. Nobunaga had no leads from acquaintances of his. Others ranging from Feitan to Phinks to even Chrollo pitched in, but nothing.

Which then turned into weeks.

Fucking weeks that brewed a hatred— something worse than anger, or rage inside of Uvogin.

The idea of a group of Hunters competent enough to outwit them, stay from their unending wave of influence— left unease in the air. Chrollo's priority shifted from treasure hunting to tracking the group. Day in, day out. All attention on the matter. As the Phantom Troupe was to be feared, to be untouchable from their heists to massacres.

"Uvo."

What date was it? Time mixed. He can't keep it straight. Another day that Uvogin sits in front of the damned computer watching the footage, his only way to keep your voice fresh in his mind.

"Uvogin."

"What." He snapped.

Nobunaga stood with sword at his side, clearly worried for his fellow Troupe member- and friend, "Ready to head out? Heard some rumblings from some acquaintances who are fighting their way up Heavens Arena. Figured we'd go."

And he's jumping at that, "Damn right. I'll let the boss know."

"Going to talk to Shal, see you in a few." The swordsman remarked, secretly glad to see a fire back in the beast of a man's eyes. The loud brute, someone passionate about a fight, had become a shell of himself.

"What are you readin' baby?" Uvogin gruffly asked as he watched you with a bored expression.

You're focused on the e-reader he got you that he had Shalnark jailbreak, "Mm," You finish the page before setting it down, "A book Paku recommended, a romance actually."

"What'you need romance books for? You got me!" He teased.

Rolling your eyes you give him the most innocent look you can muster, "Because it's interesting, fun."

"Yeah yeah," and his focus went back to the television, adoring the moments he could catch you entranced by your books. Always looking so adorable as your eyes scanned the words- an occasional reaction to whatever was happening in the story.

But you didn't return back to the e-reader. Your attention was on him, a pink blush rising to your cheeks as your core burned. The vivid imagery of the smut you'd read minutes prior burned into your head, affecting your body as your thighs rubbed together. Seeing Uvogin manspreading on the couch shirtless, without a care in the world, had you eating him alive with your eyes, wanting one thing.

With a smile you pad over to him, him raising a brow as you dragged your right leg over his waist. You pushed against his chest to steady yourself, now straddling him. He looked at you with amusement in his eyes, his hulking hands pushing up the edges of your shirt to feel your skin.

"Whatcha doing little one?"

"Who says I'm doing anything?" You giggle, fingers tracing his thick pectorals, "Wanted to see you."

"Could see me from your place over there," He was being difficult on purpose you know, it just made you more determined.

Faking an annoyed sigh, you lean down to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, squeezing his shoulder to ground yourself. Your fingers cupped the side of his face tugging at his sideburns, letting the scratchiness take over your senses as your hips buck. You sighed out so sweetly and cutely each time your lips separate with his, and as you feel his cock grow against your warmth, electricity shudders through you. And you're now certain he knows what you were up to, as if he didn't know from the start.

"Want something girl?"

Uvogin knew exactly what his little baby wanted. How your eyes were half lidded as your hips moved against him with silent pleas escaping the back of your throat you couldn't stifle. You were a needy thing, hazed with lust for him, wanting to be his little fuck toy. So he readjusts you on his lap so that you're cradling one of his large muscled thighs against your cunt.

"Awh- Uvo!" you gasp from the contact, "pl-please want-"

"Don't worry not gonna torture you tonight with that," He lived for your reactions to him. Lived for how flustered you got from the idea of riding his thigh, but he had something else in mind, "love when you get so desperate for me, lucky for you I don't wanna wait."

"Uvo~"

"Now now," He grinned mercilessly as you gasped his name when he flipped you two, all 400lbs of muscle and 8-plus-feet of him towering over you, large palms on either side of your head. You were desperate for contact. Legs wrapping around his waist, just trying to buck your hips up against his growing bulge, "I know how pathetic you get once I got you like this, yeah?"

You nod shakily.

"And that's just how I like you, takin' me all desperate and stupid on my cock. You want that huh?"

"Yes yes Uvo," You stammer, tears welling in your eyes as he pushes his groin into you for friction.

"Mm," He grunted as his gruff hands stripped your shirt from your tinier frame, tossing it to the side. Smirking at your lack of a bra, he began his slow onslaught of kisses along your chest, making his way to your breasts. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth, you're whimpering as he rolls the tiny bud along his tongue, swirling and sucking, nibbling. With a grunt he gives the other the same attention, pools of spit streaming down your chest as his spit laminated you, all warm and making your head swirl.

All you can think about him. Him. Him. Him. Bucking your hips and mewling wildly, nothing on your mind, everything a blank white as you desperately require more contact with his cock on your core.

"Stop moving." Uvogin grunted as your nails dug into his shoulders, "Gonna take these off." And he ripped the boxers that adorned your lower half, uncaring if the fabric took damage. He'd get you more if you wanted. Anything you wanted.

Uvogin licked his middle finger as he fell back to his knees, leaving you naked to the elements and him alone. Carefully he runs the digit along your glistening wet slit, watching how you shiver from the ghostly touches. Already a mess for him, dripping onto the couch as he decided he'd start with two fingers now, you seemed wet enough! Just two fingers stretch you completely, one finger of his alone was larger than the cock you had for your first time as a teenager. So you were sobbing by that point as his two fingers slid in and out of your cunt, lewd squelching noises filling the room intertwining with your moans. And it was music to Uvogin's ears.

You were melting like molten lava, the knots in your stomach unwinding as you felt a rush of a heavy orgasm coming over you. Your pussy spasming around his fingers, a cry leaving your lips as slick gush rushes from you and onto his hand and the fabric you lay upon. The joy you felt as he laughed calling you cute, made you feel good. So good your lips part and tug up at the corners.

Uvogin's next movements had your mouth watering. He slips off his shorts, his long and thick cock springing up into the air slapping against his upper stomach. Pre-cum leaks from the bulbous tip and you were suddenly reaching for it, to squeeze and tug to get him closer.

"Wanna stuff you all full of my cock, need to." He grunted as he lined his thick cockhead with your entrance, prodding at it and teasing your clit with slick motions. Uvogin knew he should have prepped you more but a big piece of him lost control when you initiated sex. His mind goes blank over the fact your perfect self wants him. Put him in overdrive and he wants you to fill your pussy with his girthy cock that barely fits, bulges your stomach out as he has to force it to the hilt because his size shouldn't fit inside you. And oh how you cry so sweetly begging for him.

"Please- please-" and he hasn't even begun to thrust into you and you were crying for him!

Opening your legs further, resting the backs of your upper thighs onto his biceps he began to push his throbbing dick into your pretty, puffy pussy. Your tight walls always try to push the invasion of his thick length out, the intrusion breaking you down as tears felled from your lash line. Your legs shake, "Thank you Uvo- thank you- please fuck me- need your big cock in my tiny pussy-"

"I know baby," Uvogin cooed, lining his hips up for a better angle before he finally slams all the way in. You stifle a silent scream, a pained yet pleasured moan as your eyes roll back in your head, a stupid, lips parted smile growing, "So fuckin' tight little girl, feel ya squeezin' me so good."

Uvogin leaned forward and tilted his head in such a way to capture your lips in a heated kiss through your whines. Your fingernails dug into his skin with more force as you tried to relax around him, though you knew it was futile, it always took your breath away expanding your insides when his cock entered you. Your poor gummy walls spasming around him trying to get his length out of you, your bundle of nerves on fire as you feel it down in your toes.

He let you breathe for a second, giving you time to adjust. Because he knew you were all full of cock, probably feeling him in your damned stomach, oh how he smirked at the outline of himself in your abdomen sending chills down his spine. Even his cock still inside you, your lower stomach was expanded. You'd spasmed around him whining and whimpering, begging as flutters of pleasure shudder through your nerves, top to bottom. He loves admiring you like that. Being able to look at where you two are conjoined- seeing your tiny hole all stretched around him at your core- it doesn't look right. As if he'd split you in two with a dick with more girth than parts of your legs.

"Breathe baby," Uvogin chuckled as he saw your eyes going white, tapping your cheek with his index finger to get your attention.

So he pulled out just an inch, letting you gasp for air as you came back down to earth with his bulbous tip no longer forcing its way into your cervix. Blinking furiously, your breathing returned as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "You can move- need you,"

"That's my good girl." Immediately he braced himself as his hips rose, cock just pulling out of you as your gummy walls clench back to normal. Feeling empty you go to whine in discontent, but his cock slammed back down into you, splitting you with velvet wrapped steel as all that can escape you is empty moans. The pace was faster than normal, that had you seeing stars. Crying how it was 'too much!'

Your poor overstimulated cunt convulsed around his cock as an orgasm ripped through you, moans and the sound of slapping skin ringing in the living room. Uvogin was practically pleading about how well you took him, how tight you were, as he drilled into you fucking you through your high.

With hazy eyes you look at him as you clench even more from all his praises. His cock felt so good throbbing inside your soaking pussy that coated him in your cream due to the bliss filled pain.

"Fucking cockwhore, you know that? Just a dumb little fuck toy for me to use. You love this don't you?" Uvogin grunted, losing himself in the pleasure of your clenched gummy walls around his hard length. He was doing everything to keep himself from finishing right then, wanting to enjoy this a bit longer. But you were practically comatose- with tears falling down your cheeks and dumb cries falling loosely out your lips. He was sure you don't even know what's going on at the moment, the pleasure overwhelming your shaking form as he forced another orgasm out. Uvogin knew all your spots- knew how to curve his hips in every position to hit just the right spot, that sensitive bundle of nerves that was always your undoing. And how you silence with a scrunched nose and spasming eye, he knew he was doing his job.

You mindlessly nod, bliss painted on your fucked out face as you hoped it was enough of an answer. Because you loved this. Wished he could fuck you until you were a babbling incoherent mess all the time— because you didn't need to think or worry, just feel the pleasure he gives you while his lips pattered your skin with sloppy kisses.

"Gonna cum baby, gonna cum in my pussy," Uvogin fell forward onto his forearms as he crushed his mouth against yours. Giving several long thrusts more only to break away as he cums so hard his vision whites out, grunting like he was seeing heaven. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim; hot, thick liquid coating your insides as your hips jerked against his. He rested his forehead to yours, both your heavy breaths intertwining, "I love you," Uvogin whispered, "And I love you," you return, hugging him close and tight as possible.

Uvogin missed you. He heard your voice everywhere. Saw your beautiful face everywhere. It was naive of him to daydream about you walking back through the door and into his arms. The way the Hunters handled you, uncaring for your safety from the start, he knew they'd never let you go back to him. He needed to get to you.

He honestly thinks he's dying. As if a piercing blade traced along every inch of his skin in an itchy fury, and a hole permanent in his chest. A piece of him was quite literally missing. You.

A trail of bodies have since been left in the wake of your kidnapping. Anyone with deduced association to those who took you were found, tortured by Feitan, and eventually killed when they had nothing useful. Anger was something Uvogin was known for, his brash personality, and that devilish smirk. He never backed down from a fight and that included finding you. So nobody had seen him like this. Stressed. Lashing out at his fellow members in ways he would never have dreamed. An empty shell. As if having you taken from him set him on a path of chronic suffering, a chest as if its heart had been ripped out.

"We'll find her," Nobunaga's voice finally reached Uvogin's ears.

Uvogin laid on a small cot staring up at a cracked popcorn ceiling, eyes tracing the zagging dark lines. He's too in his head, he knew it, "Yeah, today wasn't too bad."

It took the pair a week to get to the Republic of Padokea, then a few days to arrive in the city where Heavens Arena was housed. The bustling city could have been a risk for the two, but it was the crowds of bizarre people alike heading to watch battles that helped blend them in. No one bat an eye at two men who looked to be fighters- and no one batted an eye when bodies randomly showed up.

"Mac said he's gonna keep his ears open. Never know who comes through that Arena," Nobunaga said, referring to their productive conversation with an old associate, "We'll get back and let the boss know."

For the first time they had a trail to follow giving the large man hope during a time of unending night.

THREE MONTHS LATER

There was a heavy thickness to the air as you were prepared for the night. Sitting upon a stool as hair and makeup was tended to, whilst you're adorned in a white dress that engulfs you in tulle flowing about. As if it weighed a hundred pounds, it was a burden upon your shoulders even from the light fabric that went down your arms. You can hardly breathe from the tight bodice that forces your cleavage out the top. The image of yourself in the vanity mirror is someone you hardly recognize— a bruise along your cheekbone, heavy bags under your reddened eyes, pale skin from lack of sun. The only signs of life on your face was the blush painted on your cheeks and the shimmer on the corner of your eyes. Your eyes sting from the white liner drawn onto the waterline, and from the prior attempts at eye shadow. With each movement of the lady that stood above you, more of your hair tugged at and curled causing pain to your scalp. Everything was on fire inside of you. Everything hurt, a dread— a deep depression of abandonment and the reality of being left.

You can hear commotion all around, rushing footsteps and commanding voices. Occasionally from the corner of the mirror you can see a Hunter peak in, nodding and speaking into what you imagine to be a phone. For all you really want in the midst of the wedding day preparations is to cry. You don't want to be in the gaudy-fucking dress Bates picked out that makes you look like a ridiculous fairy, with makeup and hair you despised. You're backed up against a wall, hopeless and preparing yourself for a life of misery- as dramatic as it seemed. Each day your hope of Uvogin being your knight in shining armor dwindled. Every loud noise you'd think it was him bursting in to save the day.

You're scared. Fingernails digging into your palms, uncaring if you drew blood. Because with each passing moment pushed you closer to walking down the aisle to Bates.

How could you feel pretty like this? All done up in something you'd have never chosen, all for a reason you didn't want. You felt ugly, a horrendous monster up on the hill to be ogled at.

Each step you take as you were ushered out of the room, is a step further into the unknown as your pulse races. Your eyes frantically look for signs, for anything, for anyone.

The last three months, four months total, with Bates and his Hunters had been your own hell. Constantly dazed and confused- vulnerable. Sick, lonely, forced to move constantly. Surrounded by weapons and learning intimate details about yourself that Bates knew- was terrifying. How obsessed he was with you, clear he had zero respect for you, viewing you as nothing but a possession. The bruise on your face showed such, and it was only the tip of the iceberg of the ones hidden by your dress. For his promise to never touch her until their wedding had been a lie, though never sexual, you were assaulted at any turn where you messed up. A thin scar along your left inner wrist furthermore proved the pain you'd endured.

Tears well in your lashes as you descend a grand staircase, how you ended in this abandoned castle in the countryside in good shape, was beyond you. With hushed voices and rushed movements under the guise of night, you awoke in a canopied bed within a stone walled room with tattered tapestries.

Feeling as if you're walking to your death, you frantically look for a way out. If you had the chance to throw yourself over a balcony or out a window.

Eyes were on you.

People turned away to whisper.

You recognize nobody. And all you want to do is shrink into your wedding dress to disappear. A part of you wondered if your family would actually be here like Bates promised- you doubt it though. You hadn't seen them in years.

"Miss Y/N," a Hunter approached you and the women leading you through the castle. You'd seen him plenty before, and you didn't like him, "come with me," his tone serious and you can't argue.

The Hunter shooed the women from you, telling you to follow him through an onslaught of maze like hallways. You can't keep track of where you came from anymore. Stomach to the floor, legs like jello wondering what the stoppage was.

You'd normally be more conscious, but you'd been broken down to where your senses no longer proved helpful. Once able to memorize footsteps and the simplest of movements from a person- you were too exhausted now. As if your fight / flight left.

A section of the castle you hadn't seen before, it's back at the top where you seemingly started. Hunters lounging in what felt like a tower where someone would be left to rot becoming a shell of themselves. The week they'd spent at the once abandoned, hauntingly huge stack of stones- the poor maids must have been worked to death to get it to the level of clean it was currently at. You felt terrible. This was all because of you.

"In here."

"I- don't want to." You mustered to say.

"In." A command.

You hate how pathetic you'd become. But you were smart to know obedience meant surviving. A tiny room with armchairs and an empty armoire, dimmed and flickering light.

Head in your hands, defeated, but more relaxed as this change in plans was pushing back your impending marriage... nonetheless you felt defeated. Numb. Tired as your eyes felt heavy. You'd come to terms primarily, or were forcing yourself to all whilst dreaming of Uvogin day and night. You'd suffer if it meant living another day with the possibility of seeing him one more time.

As your mind raced, overthinking into the abyss and not catching onto the previously panicked voices before you'd been locked away in that room— you weren't prepared for the sudden assault of commotion.

BANG.

You flinched brain rewiring, mind on high alert within seconds, dizzied from how quick you rose from the armchair. With vision spotted black, you attempted to open the door that kept you from the noise. What was that? It was silent now aside from the clacking of the lock that wouldn't budge no matter how hard you tugged.

With a determination to figure out what it was, you raced to the barred window as if there'd be clues outside. But nothing. Just dark clouds with a looming moistness to the air, signifying a coming storm.

Gunshots. It had to be. Because your blood ran cold the instant you heard the loud clap and then the cries. Loud yells of shrieking girls and of commanding booming voices. Panic ensued outside.

Then it hit you.

Is it them... Him?

Hope rushed into your core. A gleeful explosion in your chest as a giddiness shuddered through you from head to toe, nerves making your stomach drop. The sudden need to get out of the room had you desperate looking for anything to aid you. Though you freeze, knowing better. Uvogin always warned you to stay put if something ever happened with you around, explaining he'd be devastated in himself or any Spider accidentally hurt you. So like the obedient girl you always were for Uvogin, you go back to sit, and listen. As if your brain and body acted out of an involuntary familiarity.

Listening to grunts, hacking up of what you assumed to be blood- the whipping of thin metal had you sitting on the edge of your seat. Thuds and squelching make nauseas and bile rise in your throat, that you desperately tried to swallow down. Your stomach lurched as footsteps sounded from the opposite side of the door. And it was then you wonder, if this would be your end or your rescue.

Holding your breath, you wait, the air around you going numb as a high pitched buzzing takes over your senses. Heart thumped in your ribcage as the door rattled, only to slam open with a flash of orange and smoke. A tall, thin figure was all you could make out as you squint.

Your eyes widened, it took you a second to recognize the dark haired man that was now showcased from the small light of the room, "Nobu?"

"Well shit," He smiled, relieved and surprised as he re-sheathed his blade, "Look at you all dressed up!"

You couldn't even begin to try to stifle your smile, "No way.." You want to cry, cry and throw your arms around Nobunaga to thank him over, and over. But your thoughts were on your lover, "I-is he here?"

"Yep, so let's get you out of here and to him." But then his brows furrowed, "Your cheek, who did that?"

As he approached, offering a hand to help you up, you were springing with joy that you didn't even feel or care about the marks all over your body, "Bates."

"The Hunter trying to marry you?" Nobunaga does a once over of you, needing to know how many of the Troupe members needed to hold Uvogin back based on how many marks were visible.

"You know about that?" You whisper.

"It's how we found you. He got lazy, Shal got a hold of a wedding invitation."

"I see.. there's more bruises that my dress covers." You wouldn't lie. Couldn't lie. This was Uvogin's closest friend, someone you trusted implicitly as well.

"Uvo's trying to find Bates right now. He's.. uh, not one you wanna deal with right now."

"How is he?"

"Fucking terrible," For a second you'd have thought Nobunaga was trying to crack a joke, but his eyes were dark, "He's been looking for months, losing his mind, worried." You nod, sadness fills you, but Nobunaga grabs your shoulders forcing you to look at him, "I know you're probably angry, but don't be. He's ran himself into the ground to get you back. Eventually started down the road you'd died until Shal got a breakthrough basically saving him from destitute..."

"Y-You don't know what's happened to me here to just be okay..." You sniffled, as if trying to argue that you had a right to be frustrated and you should be able to express it, not stifle.

"Then let's go give Bates and his Hunters what they deserve, what they get for messing with the Troupe."

Were you ready to see him? You had many questions. Then there was the part of you that was angry, betrayed in a sense, but overall feelings of relief overwhelmed you. To know Uvogin never gave up made up for the last four months, that he hadn't forgotten about you. So your core welled with excitement, a rush of electricity that made your skin crawl.

Has Nobunaga always been this gentle with you? Or had you not realized how bad of a state you were really in. Because you'd changed. And you never realized it, never given the opportunity. You were skin and bones at that point, cheekbones sharp, any fat was gone as your body used all it could for energy. Flushed skin- sickly. Your movements slower than you'd realized as the swordsman had to guide you beside him, help you keep your footing. And it was when you see Feitan, Phinks, and Machi standing yards from the door outside- you realize it was bad. Because they looked at you as if you were a ghost, in a way that made any remaining color drain. Because Feitan would never show surprise with how his eyes widened then brows furrowing. And Phinks stopped himself mid sentence it seemed as his mouth hung open.

Machi was at your side immediately, as she'd been the one to care for your health throughout the years. Once you had weekly check ups where she'd investigate your body to tell Uvogin you were healthy and not hurting yourself. You'd hated those checkups, hated how it took away any options of self harm because Uvo made it seem like the consequences wouldn't be worth it, that it was only to be careful. Then somehow you'd managed to grow closer to the closed off woman when you fell deathly ill. She'd stayed in the guest room and suddenly having a girl around seemed like the greatest gift. You wanted to hug her as she grabbed your wrist with pursed lips.

"Where are you hurt?" Machi demanded.

"I don't... know. Everywhere?" You stammered as your eyes grew moist.

"You're not well.. at all." She said under her breath, "need to get you out.."

"What?"

Machi never answered many questions in general so you realized she wouldn't now. But you felt an odd sense of comfort that you assumed to be her nen, "Nothing. Come on."

Your surroundings moved quickly. The four members of the Troupe that'd found you surrounded you in a protective manner. Your body felt so heavy, your legs like molten lava that wanted to sink to the ground. Oh- The ground sounded so good. Cold. A place to fall in a heap, let the ceiling swirl. Your thoughts grew oh so hazy as you were about to trip when-

Phinks suddenly grabbed you, pulling you behind him as Nobunaga's sword unsheathed. In horror you watch as he effortlessly beheads two men with guns, Feitan following suit snapping the neck of someone else. You think you're going to hurl. Uvogin never lets you see violence to this level. Legs wobbling, you want to hide. The corners of your vision is bubbling with black spots.

"Hey don't give out on us now, don't wanna get my ass chewed out by Uvo if you get hurt on our watch." Phinks grunted, his rough hands pulling your bicep hard enough to shake you back down to earth.

You nodded slowly, "I-"

"We're moving too slow." Feitan snapped.

Nobunaga shot the short man a look, "I'll carry her,"

"No.. m' fine-"

An explosion shattered the air.

"Shit."

"Y/N, stay here. Don't move." Nobunaga demanded as the others darted off with lightning speed.

"What was that?" You asked as your heart rate spiked.

There was turmoil in Nobunaga's eyes as he tried to decide his best course of action, "Stay here, we've already cleared surrounding areas so nobody should stumble on you. Besides doubt they want you dead." And he left you on that note.

Left you standing there in a circular opening of a hallway feeling ridiculous. Alone. Vulnerable as you rubbed along your arms glancing around. A stench came from the far side which you caught red out of the corner, and against your better judgement you moved closer. Human remains smashed to mush. Bile rising up in your throat as your body swayed, you desperately tried to stay conscious. Until-

BANG. Then a roar- a resonating battle cry that made the ground shake- and a smile split your lips. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. A chorus of sweet symphony tickled the back of your brain. Like a hundred pound weights lifted off your chest for the first time in months.

Uvogin.

For a second you weren't sure if you should continue. Each step forward brought broken walls and destroyed bodies, old paintings smashed into the floors. Blood smeared and spattered. Your stomach churned, but the thought of seeing Uvogin allowed you to continue moving with a false sense of bravery. You weren't scared of him but you were scared of coming into contact with someone you shouldn't. What awaits you past each corner's a mystery, one that'd make your heart leap from your chest, you'd jump at each noise cursing yourself for not listening to Nobunaga. Because maybe you are scared to see Uvo. To see him in his element as the giant monster who reveled in violence.

Your lungs hurt as the air grew dense. You felt a coughing fit coming over you as searing pain like a hot iron branded your chest.

Heaving as you stumbled down a flight of stairs, heart pounding trying to keep your footing to not end up at the bottom of the staircase. Landing as gracefully at the bottom, pushing yourself up against a banister that looked downwards to an open foyer, you choke back a sob as you finally see him. All 8 feet 6 inches of him with flexed muscles, hair back in a messy bun- and you didn't care in the slightest about the blood soaked into his white tee-shirt. A devious, murderous aura surrounded him as a sickening grin was on his face as he had a group cornered. But all you saw was the finest man the world could offer as your breath was whisked away. To know you weren't scared of him like this made your heart alight with intense love-

"Uvo!"

You'd just celebrated your 20th birthday last night with friends, wobbling into work later than you'd have liked. The bakery you worked for smelled of fresh bread, tart cherries, and an overly sweet note that made your stomach churn. You wrinkled your nose through the fog of your state, rubbing at your eyes and not noticing a familiar figure. He frequented your place of work, was large and you're not sure how a person like him exists. You brighten as you see him, his smile making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Uvogin wandered in one day and you hadn't realized that months down the line it would change your life.

Because it was when the man you were seeing came in, unfortunately at the same time as Uvogin. Uvogin's smile faltered, chest alighting in flames of anger as his fists clenched. He didn't know about this boyfriend. And how he wished you a late happy birthday, brushing hair behind your ear set him loose.

Blood splattered. You were shocked, frozen as you attempted to register what'd happened. Mind and body working overdrive to comprehend, but before it set in, your body went limp.

That wasn't how he wanted to take you. He wanted you to fall in love with him naturally, then keep you close and safe, and happy. So he winced each time you screamed and cried, yelling at him that he was a monster. Uvogin was lenient though, understanding and more aware than most- a smart man who wanted you to realize you had your basic freedoms to be yourself with him. That the man you'd gotten to know at the bakery was still the man you kidnapped you! He believed you'd see it soon.

And you did. You were clearly independent, uncaring if you had human contact he learned quickly. Which he hated as he'd sit outside your door just to get a glimpse of you- he was the desperate one. It took him bringing you an ereader for you to converse with him. Small thank you's or telling him about the current read.

Soon you were craving his touch, his large hands along your skin, massaging your scalp— even kissing down your shoulder. Your mind blocked out all the kitchen utensils you'd once thrown at him in a futile effort to hurt him. Your mind blocked out the way you kicked and screamed when he locked you in his room so he could watch you finally sleep with danger in his eye that made you shrink. Your mind blocked out the emptiness and the fear he made you feel whilst you learned of his profession. And yet it was all replaced by the laughs he gave you, the presents, the tender touches, all the love- because no one ever made you feel as wanted or as loved as Uvogin did. He genuinely cared for you and you soon realized your feelings were the same, your life without him would be full and without meaning.

A year since he'd taken you, you'd tell him you loved him after baking his favorite pastries. You'd always remember the way his pupils dilated and mouth dropped open, the flakey dough in his hand falling to the table top. How he was across the kitchen to capture you in a hot kiss, mumbling sweet nothings as he took you to bed for your two's first time together.

You were already sobbing as you willed yourself to get his attention, trying to call out his name louder than prior.

"Uvo!" You yelled, voice too scratchy that it hardly carried with the chaos amongst them.

He couldn't hear you, you were far up and he was too focused on killing the men in the corner. And you realize something that brought you joy, one of them had curly blonde hair- Bates.

"Where is she?" Uvogin's voice booms up, sounding like music to your ears, "M' losin' my fucking patience here. Got me on the hunt for months."

"You won't have her," Bates was shaking in his boots but still attempted to remain stoic, strong, "She's mine now."

"Yeah yeah, yours. I'm sure." Uvogin laughed from the deep of his belly, "Give me a break. How well ya work with me here will depend on how you meet your eventual end. Slow and painful, or nice and quick?"

Bates motioned for the two Hunters besides him to move forward, to close the gap to entertain a fight. No longer do you see the confidence the cocky group who took you once had. Reality finally set in with what they'd gotten involved with- because you'd learned their bragging of stalking the Phantom Troupe was embellished to an extent. The reason the Phantom Troupe couldn't find them was because they'd been that irrelevant, the only reason the game of cat and mouse went on for so long.

You don't want to watch but you can't bring yourself to tear your eyes off of Uvogin. How big his muscles were as he flexed, grabbing one of the hunter's heads, slamming into the ground, a ghastly crunch as blood splattered up. He was a graceful predator as he lunged at the other, who was then dead within seconds from the same. Your knees locked, wishing you'd looked away as you slowly sank to the ground. Fingers trembling as you stare through spotted vision. Tears stream down your cheeks as you hiccup out pathetic sobs. Gasping as you clutched at your chest, crumpling into a ball on your knees. It hurt. So much.

What made you stand to continue, to find a way down to him was the fact you realized it hurt more being away from Uvogin. You couldn't handle another moment outside of his general proximity.

A narrow hallway leads downwards a spiral stairwell, which you take one step at a time letting your fingers glide against the cold wall as if keeping you steady. Your body is hot and it's that coldness keeping you grounded as your footsteps echo, eyes darting about to look for a way to the room where Uvogin and Bates were. Uvogin's voice made it easier, never once could he be a quiet man and it made your heart swell. You'd be back in his arms in moments! And you weren't sure from how full your chest and lungs were if you wouldn't make it mere seconds more.

Time transfixed as you stepped into a room reeking of iron and musk, your tiny heels clicking on the tiles, heavy pain shooting up your legs begging for reprieve. Your exhausted body from the months of wear and tear felt like it'd give out any moment, only your will keeping you upright. 'Uvo, Uvo, Uvo,' your thoughts chanted over and over. You dreamed of you two reuniting. Dreamed of him saving you like a knight in shining armor, how emotional and loving it would be.

The two men don't notice you right away. Uvogin had Bates by the neck, pushed up against the wall with a menacing look pulling at his lips.

You collapsed for what feels to be the nth time, overworking your body down to the bone. Pure adrenaline and emotions being the only thing to push you through. But you think you've gone and run out, all empty. With a huff you wipe at the tears still falling, just praying he'd notice as you whimpered his name over and over. But Uvogin was hot in the face, seething and speaking murderous nonsense to Bates, waiting for his fellow members.

"I ain't killing you yet, you're gonna be spending some sweet time with our number two," Uvogin chuckled, his words sinister.

You know what that means.

Palms flat on the ground as you regulate your short gasps.

Uvogin's body tensed as a chill ran down his spine, he'd gone deathly silent amongst the chaos. Grip on Bates's neck loosening just a smidge to allow a ghastly noise from the hunter's throat.

"Uvo.." You mewl silently, silently begging him to see you.

Uvogin's eyes were on you, finally. His hands let go of Bates, who fell to the ground with a loud crack as he shrieked from a newly broken ankle amidst gasping for air from a bruised trachea.

"Y/N?" Bates' screams were lost on Uvogin as he took slow, heavy steps toward you. There was disbelief on his face twisted with utter sadness. As if you were a ghost, he was scared, hesitant to approach you, slowing limbs. He towered over your frame, a moistness in his eyes as he looked over every piece of skin he could see.

"Hi," You shakily sigh, relief filling your body up like it'd spill over. Looking up at him attempting to muster the cute smile he loved so much while seeing the devastation written across his. That pang in your chest knowing, but thankful, he suffered like you.

Uvogin dropped to his knees, you in arm's length to him as inches of air exist between you, as if he was nervous to touch you. But he couldn't wait any longer as he knew it was you in front of him and not some apparition. You relax, shudder out an 'oh' as his calloused palm rests against your cheek, his thumb stroking your soft skin. His touch set you aflame as you whimpered, pushing your head further into his hand.

"Oh my girl- my sweet baby," Uvogin grabbed your waist, finally, pulling you to his lap to hold you close with speed and little strength so as not to harm you. He could feel your increasing amount of tears through his shirt as your fingers gripped the fabric, "M' here now, I got you."

"U-Uvo!" You weep into his chest. Hiccuping and sniffling as tears soaked the large man's shirt.

His large hand pets your hair, his other cradling you to him like you'd disappear any second. Large muscles corded so tight he may explode, emotions that'd been pent up for so long expelling. Uvogin's nen aura raged around him, around the room and expanding past the perimeter of the old castle. It was all enough to kill anyone who felt it out of fear, but in a way it was a comfort to feel his intensity, to know your protector was holding you.

You're shaking; cold and exhausted, and finally your body and mind knew it was safe. Subconsciously, in the sense that it could finally shut down. Finally leave its survival mode you'd been running on for months.

Through all the joy blossoming in your chest your limbs felt like lead. Your mind began to whir a million different ways like you were stuck in place but jostled around at the same time.

"Uvo?" You sound so meek, so sick to him that as he cradled your cheek he could feel, see the weight loss and starvation that had set in. The sickly tint to your skin. Chapped lips. Dead eyes.

His gaze fierce as he took in your limp state as you numbly stared at him, a crooked grin on your lips as your consciousness began to lull.

"Hey, stay with me." Uvogin couldn't demand that of you but he still did. He still pressed his warm lips to your frigid ones, electricity igniting in both of your bodies. Desperation as your lips mesh and tongues entangled before your head nods back, eyes fluttering closed.

But soon his voice goes gruff, hoarse as he calls your name. Trying not to shake you. Trying to stay calm as he cradled you bridal style, picking you up because he needed to get you out of this wretched place where another man tried to marry you. Were you breathing? He was hooked on watching your chest rise and fall, certain death gnawing at his mind if the time between breaths went too long. Only you could make his bloodlust become irrelevant towards the hunter as Nobunaga took over to haul Bate's limp body.

Uvogin ignored the pitied looks from the other members. He only found reprieve as Chrollo expressed his support to do all in his power to help. And the understanding between him and Feitan that the normal torturer who worked alone would allow the brute to sit in.

When you slowly came to, your eyes burned and your lungs cried out for reprieve as you clawed at the air. Your fingers caught with something long as a sudden jolt of pain from your arm traveled upwards. It was dark, but a single light served as your beacon back to the land of living. Gasping for air, like breathing was a chore, like it hurt your lungs and heart and throat to do so. Through blurry vision you're waving a hand in front of your face trying to count the fingers.

The ground comes too fast and too hard. You'd overestimated trying to gain composure upon where you laid and overshot it. Now you laid on cold tiles pushing up to your knees.

Where are you? Was this a room at the primary Phantom Troupe base? You'd been once prior out of pure necessity. The lack of a window in the room seemed to support your thoughts. Because it came rushing back as soon as you thought about the Spiders. Uvogin. That whole sham of a wedding they'd stopped. Sobs wrench from your throat at how you were saved and somewhere the man you loved was doing gods knows what.

Why wasn't he glued to your bedside? Frustration bubbled up your chest and into your throat, a sour taste left in your mouth. There you stood taking count of yourself, only in socks and a thick cotton gown, blood trickling down your arm from where the discarded IV had been.

On replay was 'to find Uvo.' Nothing else mattered. So clumsily you began your search, opening the door with a creak, a cold moist air hitting you smack in the face. Dim lights line the dark stone walls and faintly, so faintly you wonder if you're imagining it, you hear noise. If this was the same Base Uvogin once brought you too, it felt uncanny and more off-putting, like you were deeper underground. A sense of entrapment and claustrophobia setting in as you padded along the cold cement, clearly that of a basement. And clearly you'd been kept in the only semblance of a normal room to receive medical attention. The air grows evil- the only way to describe it as a chill runs down your spine. Your gut feeling is you're walking into a dangerous situation, forcing you to wonder some more if you really did get rescued.

A flickering lamp. Dingy paint job spattered the walls that already began peeling. A lone door calling for you to come closer.

There were voices on the other side of the steel door. A door where blood stained the ground heading in, where nail marks tainted the stone making your stomach churn. Beyond that door must have been where torture was conducted, by Feitan, so you assume he'd kindly point you in Uvo's direction.

The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. Your insides screamed at you to turn, to run, not to open the door that reeked of death.

But you did anyway.

Five bodies turn upon the sound. There was a man tied to the chair in the center, one that's almost unrecognizable. Almost. A litany of strange devices and tools sit strewn out throughout the room; on walls and tables.

Uvogin stared wide eyed, "Fuck. Fuck." His confusion morphed to utter joy. A giant grin pulled at his lips as your gazes connected and it was as if the universe collided at that moment. One big galaxy of sparkling stars that shone around the man you loved.

"Uv-" The reunion as Uvogin began his way over to you was cut short as you took in Bates, Feitan stood next to him with pliers. You gag, clamping a hand over your mouth. Skin, bones, some teeth, hair, and god knows what more litter at Bates's feet pooled in both dry and fresh blood.

Strong arms scoop you up and soon you're rushed out the room, the door reverberating on its hinges as it slammed. The medicinal scent you missed earlier became overwhelming as the surroundings you woke up to, surrounded you once more.

Uvo was laughing at that point, hugging you as he spun your weak frame. "Y'finally awake baby thank fuck. Been goin' stir crazy."

You're swirling, nauseas, "U-Uvo," You squeak and your voice hardly sounds like your own. But you try to hug him back around his neck, your legs flailing before they connect with the ground.

Uvogin dropped to his knees to be closer to eye level with you, his warmth enveloping you so intently you moved closer. Close as you could physically be as your hands comb along his shoulders- to his neck- to his cheeks where you squish and trace along his features. He watched you so patiently with a soft look, smirking as his hands squeezed your waist in reassurance. It grounded you, let you forget about the gruesome scene you'd walked in on moments ago.

"You're here." You whisper.

"You're here." He countered.

"I'm here." A large hand engulfed the side of your face, you nuzzled into it, "I'm not dreaming?"

"I fuckin' hope not."

Letting out a shaky breath you murmur, "Missed you. I stayed strong."

"Damn proud of you. Did so good."

You almost keel over at his words as they send shivers down your spine. His praise was music to your ears. Pink washes over your cheeks, flushing down your neck.

"Let's get you off your feet, Machi will kill me if she finds out you were up and walkin' around." Uvogin's world revolved around you from the second you met. He knew every tell of yours and how to make you tick. He knew when you were genuinely happy or sad, or even when you were holding back. Like a line tethered you two he could almost feel your exhaustion and worries. He saw the sickness wreaking havoc on your smaller frame, one that was all bone and skin.

Uvogin situated you in his lap where he perched on the bed leaning against the wall. Your side glued to his chest where your head could slot perfectly into the crook of his neck. Yet you opted to stay looking at him to take his face in like you'd never see it again. His eyes intently staring into yours speaking a thousand words that could never be relayed by mouth.

"I started worrying," He clicked his tongue, "That you wouldn't wake up, no matter what Machi said. Seeing you laying there like a fuckin' dead person killed me because, how's some pathetic hunter gonna claim he loves you but let you rot away. Machi said you were pumped so full of drugs over the months waiting for them to be flushed out was gonna take awhile."

"How long was I out for?" You cringed, remembering pieces of what you'd endured.

"Week, Machi thought it'd be longer. That's why... thought I could step out for a few hours..." You knew he was referring to the torture session, "Of course you'd wake up the one time I leave for more than 30 minutes, sorry you had to see that babe."

You shake your head, "S'Okay. I'm okay, don't want to think about it."

"You don't gotta right now but- I wanna know everything they did to ya. We're keeping him alive til' we know."

Want fills your core, bursts of warmth within you and you're pressing your lips to his. You choke out a pleasured sob from the feeling. From the delight. From your shivers of emotion you couldn't understand. "Want to know about everything you did too. Thought about you so much, imagining when you'd come and get me. I worried- I know you're strong but couldn't stand thinking you got hurt somehow and I wouldn't know."

Uvogin pulled you back in by the back of your neck, his kiss bruising compared to your delicate one. A kiss filled with desperation and fear, that Uvogin needed to feel to taste that you were in his arms. He needed you to feel through the kiss how much he loved you, how thankful he was.

"You don't worry about me." He pressed his forehead to yours, "I would have turned every city upside down to get to you. Nothing would have stopped me, only death. I feared the state I'd find you in..."

Tears drip down your lash line.

"I won't fail you again." He said with determination that made you shiver, that nestled so deep down into your bones you knew it to be true. God bless anyone's hearts if they try something with you in the future.

"It wasn't your fault."

"But it is. Supposed to protect you, didn't realize we were targets. Got too comfortable I guess." His large hands prod and stroke along your skin.

You watched the storm that raged within his features and you allowed him to think while you went back and forth within yourself. Do you admit you felt abandoned at times? That you're angry? Or would that upset him and he'd punish you... That struck a nerve. You couldn't remember the last time you worried how your words or actions or feelings would lead to a punishment. Your mind swirls about the things Bates said to you but a wall stacks right back up, you push the intrusive and wrong thoughts away. Bates had tried to plant little seeds of doubt within you, because you'd been so happy with Uvogin prior. That was it.

"You tensed up baby, what's wrong?"

"I-"

"Take your time."

That was the Uvogin you knew. Not just the rowdy big man. One that understood, was patient with you. "I just... So many thoughts keep coming at me. Haven't been in my right mind in so long, I was always being forced to take things so I wouldn't know my surroundings. Half the time I felt empty like... my head was empty."

Uvogin's grip tightened, "Bastard."

"I don't even know if I can tell you everything, because I don't know if I know it all. If that- makes sense."

"It does. Maybe it'll come back, maybe it won't but nothing is too insignificant."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not sure yet. But it don't concern you, you're safe and I'm keeping you out of it. I ain't leaving your side unless absolutely necessary."

You could only nod, butterflies flitting in your chest as you reached to grab his right hand, pulling it to your lap. He let you trace along his palm, squeeze and massage his fingers until you deemed it enough. His fingers engulfed yours as they intertwined.

"They primarily left me alone." You wanted to, no need to tell Uvo the things on your mind while they were fresh. So then later if you remembered more the pieces could fall into place and you didn't want to carry it alone, "At first Bates tried- he tried to be with me, told me I couldn't truly love you. I tried so hard to get him off me but he kissed me and I just remember flailing and eventually he backed off. Said he wouldn't touch me again until our wedding night." If words could kill, Uvogin would have been broken on the ground from the anger that overwhelmed him. Such a petrifying aura but you squeezed the hand in yours as tight as possible, but easier knowing his anger wasn't directed at you. "Otherwise they only ever got violent when we switched areas, like I was the plague or something they needed to eradicate how I felt about you." You move your arm to show him the scar on your wrist, then next the litany of bruises your dress covers.

"Saw all that." Uvogin grumbled.

"Uvo?"

"Yeah?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Course you can, just me."

"I..." You closed your mouth, you still had time to back down. But you couldn't. You suffered. You'd been violated in more ways than one and he needed to know your fears, your current grudge. "Thought, at times, after so long you... weren't coming." Your words were hardly above a whisper, your insides thrashing as you slowly said a feeling that persisted during those four months.

He was almost too quiet for your taste. Left you chasing your panic on how to fix the situation, how you'd calm him down.

His jaw locked.

"I'm sorry baby."

You could breathe. A comforted exhale of your distress leaving you, made you feel foolish for ever doubting him.

"I assumed you'd feel that way, much as it hurts me because I'd never leave you. Four months was too long and I'm sure those fuckwads were trying to fill your mind with nonsense. If I got to spend the rest my life makin' it up to you, I will." Once Uvogin had his mind on something, he rarely could place it elsewhere. Made you think back to how hard he tried to make your favorite cake for your birthday, even trying days afterwards to get it right. He was stubborn and needed someone to ground him more often or not. So you wonder if Nobu stayed by his side during your absence, because you were sure Bates would have told you if Uvogin went on a murdering rampage; To turn you against him.

But Uvogin was your savior, was the one who cared for you for years. Yes things were rocky at first, he'd gone about things all wrong he even admitted to it. But he hadn't hurt you, he loved you. You loved him. Loved him. Loved. Him. Right? Right? Right? Right?

The sudden build up in your chest, the ringing in your ears came to a staggering halt. Yes, you did.

With every movement you had a larger shadow for all 24 hours of the 21 days since you woke. For when you coughed or let out shuddered breaths, he froze. When you cried, he held you while rubbing your back, reaffirming you were his. Apologies would fall from his lips day after day as his fingers touched every inch of your body- 'I'm sorry for not keeping you safe,' 'I'm sorry for not finding you sooner.'

There you sat in Uvogin's lap, clad in an overly large t-shirt of his that you swam in. One of his arms locked around your waist whilst the other traced circled on your bare thighs. You could hear how his heart beat meticulously and soothed, his breaths light, and it calmed you. Some days have been harder than others- you'd wake up in a panic, scared you were back in captivity with Bates. And each time Uvogin would trap you taut in his arms cooing to you sweet nothings that you were safe. That no one would ever take you from him again.

"Eat more of your dinner baby, need to get some meat back on those bones," Uvogin pressed a finger into your thigh to get your attention, nodding to the half eaten meal on the coffee table.

"I'm full," You responded swatting at his hand, "Will make me nauseous if I have any more."

"Oh, yeah. Well, guess we'll give it an hour or two then I'll heat it up for you unless ya want something else."

"It'll get better, Uvo.. I know you're worried, patience."

"I know I know. Just can't believe how damn boney you are now, I miss all that pudge I could grab and squeeze." He pouted. How funny to see such a monstrous man take on the form of an upset child.

You turned your head to stick your tongue out at him, "Not you preferring me chubby,"

"What? I like fuckin' you in front a mirror seeing your tummy fat fold, so beautiful. And miss squeezing your thighs, too tiny now." Uvogin reminisced jokingly.

"That's cus' you're so big."

"Yeah but you love how big I am, n' I love you my tiny little girl no matter what." He began to pepper kisses against your neck as his grip tightened.

Uvogin had a way with words that made you brain dead- and with that gruff, sultry voice of his never helped as it entranced you no matter what the conversation was. The way he made you feel so small and so cute, that he was your big strong man, your protector that loved you to death. That would search to the ends of the world for you. You just adored the way he made you feel- he was exactly what you wanted, needed, and more.

You grew warm with need, leaving you flustered on his lap. Unable to control your racing heartbeat, you pressed a kiss to the corner of Uvo's mouth and retreated to the bathroom. You pranced away leaving the big man to groan out, playfully calling for you to come back.

But you only rolled your eyes giggling, prancing into the half bathroom of your new place.

Uvogin made the decision, which you agreed with, that going back to your old home wasn't a good idea. The possibility of panicking upon being in the place you'd been taken by Bates was high. You adored the new townhome Uvogin picked in a city where privacy was king and no one dared venture if they didn't have the money. But still isolated enough for Uvogin to blend in and leave on a whim. And smack dab next to Phinks and a girl he'd taken to.

Splashing cold water on your face, it helped calm down the heat rising up your neck.

But suddenly the smile you adorned fell flat.

Hands trembled. Gripping the sink counter, the reflection you see staring back was one you liked. Life returned behind your eyes, cheek bones weren't as sunken. Yet the moment you close your eyes it was like ugly flashes of a dark room, swirling rooms, and a gaudy wedding dress took over. With a jolt you jumped back. In and out. But your breathing doesn't slow, not as your legs crumble, pushing yourself against the back wall. Over the toilet you empty the contents of your stomach, painful gagging and heaves. Tears streamed down your cheeks. A pulsing prodded behind your sinuses, contorting features as you internally begged for it to stop. So much pain. Even when you slept you saw Bates and his men, forcing you to live through each needle they stuck in your arm. Forcing you to feel the physical and emotional pain all over again until you woke up screaming.

"Babe?" Uvogin's concerned voice sounds from outside the door.

"I'm.. okay." You croak, sounding significantly worse than you felt.

Immediately the door banged open, Uvogin through the doorway in an instant. His fear settled as he saw your form curled over the toilet, staring up at him with red eyes.

"Ah shit." He dropped down next to you, massaging his fingers along the nape of your neck, "Did'ya get it all out you think?"

"Yeah, it wasn't much." You shakily reached to flush the contents, "I keep seeing them."

He frowned at your omission, unsure what to say. He continued to prod at your skin, attempting to bring you any sort of comfort. His pointer finger dug into the ridges of your spine, hearing your soft mewl for him to continue.

"How do I get better?" You asked, though it was a question neither of you could answer. Uvogin was the furthest from a qualified therapist, his recommendations ranged from murder to... well murder.

"Time?"

You laughed quietly at his attempt at advice, falling back against Uvo. His giant body grounded you, he was your shield. If only he could be a mental one. "I know I'll be okay. Just want to go a few days without flashbacks or reminders, or nightmares. Can't wait to eat a normal meal."

Quiet fell over you. Solemness as your eyes connected. What was he thinking?

"Uvo?" You watched him nod, "I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckled warmly, kissing the top of your head.

Strangely enough that incessant ringing in your ears was back. Like that phrase triggered something. But you stared at Uvogin through the numbing noise, trying to fight through it as you cupped his cheek. Right? His forehead fell to yours. Right? His lips met yours uncaring for the fact you'd just thrown up. Right? The large man descended on you like prey, tugging at your clothes, a whine elicited from the back of your throat. You think he mumbled something about how much he missed 'fucking you' that he needed to be inside you. You wanted that too. Right? Clawing at his back as his fingers coaxed their way inside you after he tore off your shorts. Your groans of pain quickly mixed into pleasure before you began to chase your high, before he let you drop. Empty. Then you felt the head of his thick cock prod at your entrance and your shot alive with adrenaline and electricity up your core. He hadn't prepped you enough, it would hurt but it'd fill you and stretch you so good how you liked it. And like that you became one with him again after five months.

Right?

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everyillumi · 1 month ago

Note

Have you seen this theory that says Illumi needled himself? Even though the theory makes sense, it's sad because it implies his poker face <■>_<■> and all his weird behavior are not his real personality 💔

Thank you for the ask! And an exquisite Illumi emoticon <■>_<■>

I have indeed heard of this theory, and I have complicated thoughts. My short answer is: It’s reasonable that he needled himself, but I don’t think his personality was significantly changed.

My longer answer is, unsurprisingly, long! And thus under the cut.

Pragmatically, it makes sense for Illumi to have needled himself. Manipulators are first-come first-serve, as Shalnark explains to that ant, and they can manipulate themselves, so even a needle with absolutely no commands (or, more likely, one with fairly minor effects) would protect Illumi from being manipulated by others. Illumi's manipulation, unlike Shalnark's, is particularly equipped for this type of long-term self-manipulation - he can maintain his manipulation for long periods, as evidenced by Killua. From this perspective, there's no reason not to needle himself.

However, I don’t think this would have changed his personality very much. For one thing, he seems very similar in the flashbacks we see. He’s still as big-eyed, ruthless, and curious as ever as he’s choosing which butlers to sacrifice to test Alluka. Granted, it’s possible that he needled himself well before these flashbacks. This isn’t strong evidence against the needle theory, but it’s certainly not evidence in favor.

We also don’t see Illumi’s needles changing people’s personality very much. We see his needle change Killua’s actions, but only in very acute circumstances – he can make Killua run from a fight, but doesn’t make him avoid circumstances where fighting is likely. Killua is still perfectly capable of going to the NGL with Kite, tracking the Phantom Troupe, promising to protect Gon…. If Illumi has a needle in Killua, it would be really useful to tweak his personality to be a little more mission-oriented and a little less self-sacrificingly friend-oriented, if that was a power Illumi had. Granted, it’s always possible he’s capable of doing that but is choosing not to, perhaps due to parental pressure. Illumi does seem convinced that he could control Killua well enough to indirectly control Alluka, so maybe he does have some capacity for broader control… but I personally read that more as him being able to control actions and functionally obliterating personality, like we see with his needle people, rather than as him doing Brain Needle But Better.

So, based just on diagetic evidence, my theory is that Illumi probably has a reasonably benign needle in his brain, primarily to prevent other manipulators from attacking him and secondarily to control some relatively minor impulses.

The structural/figurative viewpoint is where I object more to this theory.

Illumi’s manipulation abilities are very overt metaphors for his abuse and desire for control. Killua’s trauma is literalized by the needle in his head. Him removing it isn’t just removing a Nen burden – it’s also him finally breaking out of the Zoldyck mindset in favor of putting himself at risk to help his friends. I find this metaphor strong because it’s doing both the literal and the figurative at the same time. If Killua just removed the needle and that fixed his trauma, that would be narratively weak; if he just broke out of the mindset, it could be compelling but wouldn’t be nearly as obvious a turning point. The needles are an effective metaphor for abuse and trauma when they are doing the same thing abuse and trauma do.

So – what would it mean for Illumi to have needled himself? It’s him literalizing his own abuse and trauma. That’s cool, that can work! However, in that case, I think we’re seeing an Illumi already being pushed toward family loyalty, tolerance of pain, devaluing of friendship, low value placed on non-Zoldyck life, etc., who is then deciding to solidify that with his self-manipulation. That works, but it also means it’s not the needle changing his personality. He’s already the person he’s trying to make himself into. He’s already accepted the Zoldyck mindset, decided not to break out of it, and decided to proliferate it. He can only needle himself if he’s already the kind of person to needle himself, you know?

The other option – that he’s more expressive, softer, whatever – and then decides to change that, maybe to impress his parents, just feels a lot metaphorically weaker to me. It makes his mindset a purely Nen product rather than a product of abuse which is being symbolized and strengthened by his Nen. Fundamentally, I think it’s much weaker to have an Illumi who can pull a needle out of his head and be fixed than to have an Illumi who would need to entirely shatter his own worldview before anything could change.

From a structural standpoint, what is the benefit of Illumi having needled himself and changed his own personality? If we learn that and then he doesn’t change, it’s mostly serving to make us more sympathetic toward him, and I don’t think that’s necessary! I think he’s already pretty sympathetic if you’re treating him as the middle link in a chain of abuse, and he’s also got audience buy-in just by virtue of being visually appealing and also pretty funny. (Note – moderator of everyillumi.tumblr.com may be overly sympathetic to every Illumi.)

If we learn that he needled himself and then he does change, maybe removes the needle, then what? It kinda feels like a rerun of Killua’s journey. There are probably compelling ways to do this (in fact, I’ve seen some lovely fanfic on this theme), but it just doesn’t feel like what he’s set up to do structurally as a villain, at least right now. Right now, it feels like he is serving as a less dynamic counterpart to the Phantom Troupe and even Hisoka (whose goals are changing even if his morality isn’t). Maybe in time this would be an interesting story – certainly, it would be bizarre to do it without Killua here – but I just don’t think it would serve the story very well for at least the length of the Black Whale.

(Also, as a last note – I’ve tried to distinguish between mindset and personality, but there’s obviously overlap. I just don’t want to imply that the only reasons to have an unusual affect are abuse or Nen. I think his mindset and values are very much derived from his circumstances, but his personality – eh! Who knows how personalities develop? That’s part of my issue with this theory, too, is that often it gets used to ‘explain’ why his affect is so flat, when, not only do some people simply have flat affects, but I also don’t find his affect particularly flat! He’s always joking around, he’s just doing it at very odd times in very odd ways.)

So, those are my thoughts! I personally theorize that he’s got a needle rattling around in there but that it’s not actually doing very much besides protecting him from other manipulators. That said, I’m always interested in seeing how other people interpret Illumi, and this is a particularly fun theory to bounce around. I can definitely see why people like this thought and I enjoy seeing what they produce out of it. Personally, I just don’t get much value out of imagining how his personality might be affected by his Nen, instead preferring to imagine how his Nen is affected by his personality/mindset/circumstances.

Thanks again for the question! Always love to chat about Illumi, and would love to clarify/debate/collaborate on further thoughts

#not an illumi #forgive me for the long answer; i had not the time to write a shorter one #asks and answers

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corollaservant · 1 year ago

Text

The Host // Chrollo x f!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Chrollo likes you, you remind him of someone he knows. Better yet, you might just be her. He's hosting a show tonight and you're starring in it.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/coercion, knives, oral and penetrative sex, psychosis/schizophrenia, stalking, Sarasa mentions (Chrollo's childhood friend), spoilers for the manga, would add more but it kinda ruins it.

A/N: inspired by Phantom Troupe's flashback in the Succession Contest arc and my love for Chrollo. Played intentionally with the verb tenses.

The party. That’s right, you were at a party, a drink in your hand and your friend with you. Where was the party? A sharp pain pierces your cranium and you wince. What ever happened to your friend? You decide you can't show empathy at present time.

It was commonly assumed that memory followed a chronological sequence, that the human brain could recall memories exactly like they unfolded but in all honesty, memory recalling happened in fragments for most. The party. Your friend. The colors of the light. A man.

A man. Who was the man and what were you talking about, you try to think but it’s kind of hard when you can’t see, you’re blindfolded and tied to a chair. Earthy odor, smells like soil, you note. Not that this takes you far. You had definitely been drugged, you felt weak and nauseous (it was a wonder the stills popped in your head) eyes so tightly folded, the little shapes and colors from the pressure increasing your fatigue, your heart palpitating. Was this date rape? You couldn’t touch yourself to find out but you felt intact. This was also not a date. Then why the abduction and ropes? To offer something, you think. But you didn’t have much to offer for the record. You try calming yourself down but the thought only stresses you further. Fuck, how long was this going to take?

Chrollo never did things without reason. Never talked without it, stole without it (debatable, but they were in need), never acted without it or killed without it. You being there was no mistake, he was wondering how you felt at the moment, not very familiar with human emotions, they all seemed wary, he thought, so he often brushed them off—he didn't care enough to dig deeper. Chrollo listened, he never talked. He could sit through a Troupe meeting actively hearing the members, knowing fully well when stupid proposals and ideas were spouted as they all patiently waited for his final word. He didn’t mind, he thought it was funny how people unraveled without him trying.

His decision on you, he had to admit was made on impulse. He didn’t mean to drug you. He didn’t mean to abduct you. Unlike you, he remembers details. Him and the Troupe were in a club (silly to assume for entertainment, a stolen prize now decorating the heist gallery in one of the Troupe's hideouts) when he saw you. You weren’t far, a couple inches away, drinking clumsily and conversing with a person he presumed was a friend by the proximity of it. You had her eyes, he thought. Of course he could see perfectly in the dark, well, he could pretty much use any of his senses to a higher extent, he wouldn’t be a Specialist after all. Your wide eyes gleamed, they squinted when you couldn’t listen. To make matters worse, you had your hair in pigtails, loosely falling down your shoulders, long hair divided by two black hair ties. Just like hers, he thinks.

Now, Chrollo is not sentimental, he really isn’t, but the optic parallels cloud his judgement and he wants nothing more but to be by your side, to reminisce the part of him that died a long time ago. He can’t cry, not unless he has a reason; he does nothing without it, but feels touched merely by your presence. Once the decision is finalized, he makes a move.

‘’Excuse me, miss.’’ A voice rings behind you. A tall man with dark brown hair and gloomy eyes holds out your house keys, you always shoved them in your pockets, as you considered it safer than your purse, not directly attached to your body.

‘’T- thank you.’’ You stammer, you’ve had a couple of drinks as the club lights hit on your face making you stumble against him, the guy behind you dancing so carelessly, you’re being pushed left and right either way.

‘��Be careful.’’ He smiles as he extends his arm to hold you upright, a mournful look on his face as he walks away. The keys. The man. The drink. Dark. There is no memory of what happened after.

It’s the same voice you hear entering the room, was it even a room? The sounds echo as if you are in a cave.

‘’Finally, here you are darling.’’ He smoothly says as you scream the first thing that comes to your mind ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’. Your voice rips through the "cave" but you are certain it makes no difference. Whoever this is, doesn’t worry about the helpless sounds you’re about to make.

‘’Darling, please don’t yell, I’m right here.’’ The voice of the man inches closer, as the blindfold is being removed from your hurting eyes. Your heart races when you see him in all his glory, ominous stare and a tattoo decorating his forehead (did he have this at the club?), blue orb-shaped earrings, a peculiar attire that reminds you of a Victorian vampire—a long coat with feathers all the way down his ankles and some funny boots. His calm expression while supposed to be relaxing, just increases the nausea in your stomach, he seems familiar with such processes. As for the place, it isn’t coming to your aid either, you can’t recognize what this used to be (a warehouse? a prison? an actual cave for outcasts in the city suburbs?). You feel the known sensory feeling well up in your eyes, it’s starting to become serious.

‘’W-what to do you want?’’ You stutter, unable to scream; you could but see no point.

‘’Are your hands in pain my darling?’’ His eyes look over your tied wrists with concern and he flinches looking at the knot. ‘’I told Feitan to go easy on you.’’ ‘’Well.. he just never listens.’’

‘’What do you want from me?’’ You want to scream and beg him to let you go, he didn’t assault you so what does he even want? You had no use to a person, as far as you knew, an unessential addition to people’s lives.

‘’My sweet darling..’’ He murmurs as he prolongs the sentence, his words making a bile travel to your mouth; your nausea from the drugging never really went away.

What sick game is this?

‘’Please excuse the sudden change of heart after our brief encounter at [ ]. I was hoping you can understand that I wanted you here today for a very special reason.’’ He starts and your heart’s thrumming, you silently beg him to get to the point. You want out of there immediately.

‘’Please!’’ You yelp frustrated ‘’Just tell me!’’

‘’How about I show you? Hmm?’’ He responds, his velvety voice making you gag. ‘’Shalnark!’’ He calls and a blonde guy (boy?) makes an appearance holding a.. tripod and a digital camera, which he sets right next to him, adjusting the tripod’s legs and connecting the mounting head with the camera.

‘’Everything's set up, anything else boss?’’ This guy literally beams as your eyes widen, was this a perverted farce? What did the guy mean with fucking boss?

‘’W-what is this?’’ You ask but ‘boss’ has his a attention directed at the blonde guy.

‘’Think you’re forgetting something, Shalnark..’’ He playfully scolds and the boy’s eyes light up as if having a sudden godlike revelation.

‘’You’re so right, boss!’’ He widely smiles as he exits.

‘’W-what are you gonna do?’’ You are crying, anxious and can't think straight—the psychotic simulation suddenly makes you wish it would’ve been a date rape.

The boy comes back and this time he is holding a wireless microphone, which he passes to the ‘boss’, his name unknown and not your concern at the moment as he wordlessly leaves you once again to his mercy.

‘’Now, sweetheart,’’ You flinch at the choice of words. ‘’I would like for you to hold this right here.’’ He tells you indicating the microphone ‘’I’m going to untie you, please think carefully of your next move.’’ He says as he comes close to you, removing the ropes and freeing your bruised wrists. Your eyes flicker, should you try this? He knows. He sees you. He is a Specialist after all, he has a reason. The split second your left foot is turned towards his right, a wide knife with a sharp blade is pressed to your neck, while you’re being headlocked to his sides. This happens so fast you hardly have time to comprehend it.

‘’Sweetheart.’’ He sighs. ‘’The knife’s not just sharp, it’s also poisonous, so please behave.’’ He goes about it as if he deals with things like that daily, you feel your legs trembe and almost snap but he lifts you up and places you back to your initial spot. What kind of a psychotic freak has a poisonous knife on them? And why are his reflexes so fast?

‘’Will you please hold this, darling?’’ He patiently asks again, as he hands the microphone over, your hands shake but you take it, eyes wide in fear.

‘’Now..’’ He smiles. ‘’We’ll go over the script, oh..it’s been such a long time since I’ve done this!’’ He exclaims looking...happy?

He hands you over a paper with a language you can’t understand and small dialogues—you take it it’s a German variation, as there’s these funny dots over the vowels but also has some incomprehensible words and you can’t make the distinction. On the bottom there’s this image of some superheroes with cleaning devices, one holds a broom, the other one a mop. Nothing makes sense and you feel exhausted as you try to negotiate a way out. Maybe he is just a freak who wants a stupid script played out, maybe it’s that. Maybe you will be able to be free, to see your cat again. Maybe. Logic has left you, but you don't seem to notice.

‘’W-will you..please..let me go after?’’ You whisper, ready to hear the worst.

‘’My precious, of course! Please grant me this favor and I will set you free immediately, I ask for you to forgive previous gestures on my behalf, it just happens that they mean so much to me..’’ The words linger as you suspiciously eye him up. This is not a time for bargains or reason so you’ll comply to the freak’s needs.

You start reciting as he cuts you off. ‘’More passion, my angel, you need to say it aloud, shout out the line!’’ and you sniff, what a fucking weirdo.

He makes you retake the incoherent dialogues multiple times, cutting you off, correcting you, shouting at you for not waiting for his part. Of course he assigned himself the leader role, must've been some god complex—no wonder from a perverted mind like his.

It is around the middle of the play, when you mispronounce a word that he seems agitated as he approaches you. He slaps your face with malice, an ominous stare, his eyes burn as you let the microphone fall from the impact.

‘’You mispronounced this, she’d never do that.’’ He spits and you start feeling a new round of tears forming in your eyes, who she is and what you had to do with her not making any sense in your mind. You sob as you brokenly stutter.

‘’I-I'm sorry, w-we can redo this, please..’’ He stares at you, the same pitiful expression on his face. He doesn't look upset anymore, all that pent up anger left him, the more he looks in your pretty eyes, how could he stay mad at you? You were after all the person he used to care for the most. A veiny hand approaches your now disheveled pigtails (pigtail in actuality, as one hairtie fell off during your abduction) and his fingers twirl around it. His lower half close to your face as you look up at him. He is absentmindedly staring at your hair when he kneels down to your height.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He smiles. ‘’Would you forgive me, my darling?’’ His breath fans on the red mark and your parted mouth. Tears are staining your cheeks as he brushes a thumb to 'clean' you. The proximity is eerie, you hesitantly avert your eyes as you gulp.

‘’Y-yes, sir,’’ You whisper, ‘’l-let’s continue this.’’ You're eager to be set free, eager for this twisted game to end.

‘’No, we shall not occupy ourselves with my play anymore, Sarasa.’’

Sarasa? Who the fuck is this and what did you have to do with her?

You don't like the new proximity, it makes you anxious, his hands still cup your jaw before he stands up and tugs at the loosened pigtail.

A bulge now decorates his pants and while you try to avert your eyes, you can't help but notice it. His finger grazes over your lips as he slides one in your mouth, observing you from above the whole time. A sigh escapes his lips when he hears you gag.

‘’Suck on it...’’ he orders, ‘’please, darling.’’

There's no plea in this tone, only authoritative command. You do as asked and he readjusts his legs. You can guess what's next and you just want this to be over—there is no escape but if sucking him off means you get to be free, you’d be more than willing to do that.

He unzips his pants, sliding them down together with his boxers as his cock springs free, he is probably the biggest you've seen and you panic thinking of him in your mouth. He must’ve noticed because he chuckles and approaches you. You are about to shut your eyes and start the lewd act when he steps aside and ties your wrists behind your back again. Left with your mouth hanging open, a victim to merciless desires, he puts his fingers in your mouth. Your saliva coats the digits, which he removes and cautiously places on his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you, stricken with fear and quivering, his good Sarasa, how he had failed to protect her, as he continues to jerk himself off in front of you. The scene is lewd: his naked torso protrudes over his ridiculously oversized feather coat, his cock oozes his precum and makes wet sounds coming in contact with your saliva and a tormented face; his head's arched back and slow ‘’im sorry’’s exit his mouth. You feel a sting in your core looking at him and the vague bile you had in your throat makes you audibly gag. How can you be thinking like this right now? But your body isn't run by your superego, your moral compass doesn't dictate your physical instincts and your legs are unconsciously brought together to alleviate the pain.

He is getting himself off, glancing at you, knowing you drink him in. His strokes become faster when he suddenly touches your lips with his thumb and parts your mouth only for an angry cock to slam against your throat without a warning. He hisses and grabs your head to push your mouth and nose all the way down, he wants his release and wants it now. You can't breathe or shout or protest in any way, only wiggling your tied hands and crying out in pain, which comes off as groans that reverberate on him and he crumbles— falling apart, moaning and shooting all his release down your throat. Snots and tears fall on his cock and he slowly removes himself.

‘’What a mess you made, darling.’’ He exhales too composed, looking down.

You were responsible for this?

‘’I hope the camera is still on, because I am intending to punish you, Sarasa.’’ He continues. ‘’You only had one line, my angel, one line in the entire play and you couldn't make it. You know how much this upsets me?’’ His voice almost breaks, the ordeal messes you up even more.

You can’t understand him, you want to get out, your throat already hurts from his penetration and you fear for the next part. You know it must involve sex and shudder at the realization he'll have to touch you down there. The thought that you had been wet up until he came in your mouth, the fact that he would soon enough know this, the fact that you have been involuntarily aiding his mission by complying to his cruel needs makes you feel vile but you have no time to process this as you feel two arms cutting the ropes quickly, letting you free from the chair you were tied to.

You jump up before realizing it, you’ll run you think—(you really don't have time to think, you act solely on instinct) but his agility prevails once again, fast reflexes have your neck choked as he grabs you from behind, the knife with the black handle against an artery as you halt.

‘’This was my last warning, sweetheart, please comply before it’s too late.’’

He is dragging you back, forcing you to turn around, his cock still free and half hard, is he seriously turned on by your futile attempts for freedom?

What a sick person.

He languidly sits on the chair with his coat draping and touching the floor as he positions you on his bare lap. You draw a sharp breath, as you feel him under you, a disgusting cock rubbing your clothed entrance —he sighs and pulls you in an embrace. He smells like cedar, you think, cedar and sweat as he brings his lips to yours, connecting them softly. You keep them shut, your eyes open and he knows it because he quickly pulls away. ‘’Darling, why don’t you kiss me?’’ he murmurs. You feel a sharp blade trailing down your spine, his knife moves to your sides and pokes at the flesh as he brings his lips close again. Your skirt reminds him of hers and it makes him desperate for closure, he'd protect her better this time, he thinks as a stiff cock touches your panties, connecting your heat to his and making you softly whine, sounds you can't control. ‘’Please..’’ he whispers and you finally do it. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your freedom is close but the more you think about it, the more anxious you become and sadistic tendencies like his leave no space for slip ups. His mouth clashes against yours, tongue overlapping your own, of course he'd be in control, while the knife rests on your lower back. You start grinding down his length, hands digging at the roots of his hair as you feel yourself lubricated against your will, you want this to be over, that’s what you tell yourself.

With a hand behind your back holding the knife and the other one free, he decides to feel your silky softness, test it for himself, his good girl, how obedient she is under his touch, how eager to be punished for her wrongdoings. He teases your entrance, as he smears the wetness gathered around, you choke on a moan, your still functioning conscious and pride making you want to stay silent but that's impossible with a hand around your clit and a finger sliding with ease inside your walls. The knife also doesn't leave you with another choice.

‘’I want you to call out my name.’’ He hums as he continues his rhythm, you are slowly coming undone on his fingers.

‘’W-what’s your name, sir?’’ You manage to breathe out in between thrusts, you’ve been trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, instinctively guided by a pressure within.

‘’Chrollo.’’

What a funny name.

‘’P-please..Chrollo.’’ You whine, it's when he decides to remove his fingers from you.

‘’Oh, Sarasa,’’ he sighs, ‘’you’ve misbehaved enough today, I really wanted to punish you, you know that?’’

‘’N-no, p-please, Chrollo..’’ You practically purr. At this point calling you Sarasa doesn't even bother you, you got accustomed to it some time ago.

Something in the way you hum his name makes his eyes flicker and he wordlessly drops the knife behind him, as he squeezes his cock to line up with your slit.

‘’Don’t think I don’t have other means to restrain you, darling.’’ He mutters and pulls you down on him, giving you no time to adjust to his girth, the head slamming against your insides as you let out a lewd moan.

‘’S-sir!’’ You moan, as you're sucking him in, taking every inch as best as you can given the circumstance while large palms viciously grope your behind, smashing your hips down his groin. Your pretty face bouncing atop him, wide eyes, oh these eyes, looking at his now fully darkened ones and he watches his pretty girl come apart, soft moans leaving your smudged lips, pigtails now fully disheveled; your hair bounces freely on your delicate shoulders. He observes your mouth, how beautiful it looks each time it curves and smiles at him, each time you’d tell him ‘’Look at what I found!’’ excitedly, a tape among the junk, a broken toy—you were his favorite companion. Chrollo feels himself jerk within your walls, you're trapping him inside and he won't last long.

‘’Come for me, please...’’ He needs this, he needs you. You grip his hair fervently as you let out small ‘’fuck’’s (involuntarily, you convince yourself).

He is inching you closer to your relief despite your disdain and you can tell he is there with you, parted mouth leaving shaky, pleading blabbers, as he grabs your hair and twists it in his palm, tugging at it harshly. You are forced to throw your head back so it gives him the opportunity to assault your neck, sucking and biting on it, the sensation tingles and arouses you as you come apart, digging your nails in his arms.

‘’C-chrollo–agh!’’ You sing, it pleases him and makes him groan—he is cumming for you, your core spasms and tightens, clit pulsating and muscles taut as he thrusts upwards to fill you up as much as anatomically possible. Semen starts falling down his thighs but he still holds you tightly. He's marked you his twice and doesn't think he'll ever forget.

‘’My good girl...’’ He exhales shakily, ‘’my precious, little girl.’’ He continues, rubbing your back, as your weight falls on him, the knife tossed behind him looks at you and you shut your eyes.

Chrollo lets you go. He doesn’t order you a ride or have the blonde guy escort you. You have to walk 45 exhausting minutes to find a bus stop and even then, you hardly recognize the area.

He leaves for the next 6 months, not communicating anything to the rest of the Troupe, people overestimate their closeness. He replays your video every night while he’s away fighting and earning (stealing) abilities, your beautiful, expressive eyes haunt his dreams, Sarasa would like you if she met you. Sarasa would make friends with you. Sarasa, you. What's the difference?

Chrollo comes back only to find you sleeping, so peacefully he rejoices at the sight. Absolutely perfect and innocent, he tainted you and you didn’t even care? He smiles. He tells himself you're a bad girl for sleeping with your doors unlocked, just like Sarasa liked to wander on her own and look where that got her. Maybe the door wasn’t unlocked, it’s something he finds irrelevant now. He had kept his promise, he thinks. You should be grateful he’s honest.

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere hxh #tw dark content #chrollo smut #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh smut #hxh chrollo #hunter x hunter #tw psychosis #tw dubcon #tw noncon

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nynyhaha · 9 months ago

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Spider Themes: Phantom Troupe and fate (plus Chrollo character song analysis)

THIS is the moment that lead tons of fans to believe that Chrollo is a determinist,or at least a fatalist,believing that certain things cannot be avoided and that people lack the free will to act otherwise.

I haven’t seen any other proof of Chrollo being a determinist and I think it’s not that relevant to his character so this idea being so popular annoys me,and yet,there are lots of time where Chrollo is confronted with the idea of fate.

Why doesn’t he blame Judas?

There are multiple ideas

-his betrayal was bound to happen and he had no free will

-regardless of will,his actions were justified because it resulted in the greater goal being achieved(and Chrollo sees Jesus’ death as as important as his own death in a scenario where the Spiders have to chose.Chrollo would want them to sacrifice him for the Spider,and this scene hints at that)

-anyone willing to betray the organisation for money or fame was never a true member

-Chrollo doesn’t take anything personally and he doesn’t judge other people for their actions because he expects very little of them (we know this isn’t true for his Spiders,but it seems to be that way with Hisoka. He doesn’t blame Hisoka for being what he is)

This point is also illustrated in the flashback chapters where young Chrollo doesn’t get angry at his bullies even once. He’s not mad at Uvo,Phinks or Feitan,he outsmarts them or outruns them,but still sees them as part of his circle and never acts aggressively.

He doesn’t even appear to hate Kurapika or care much for his motives,since he accepted the fact that people will come after him for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t care how good those reasons are.

The prophecy

Neon’s prophetic ability is meant to help people see the potential future,it’s not presented as being self fulfilling,in which case it would be a scam. The idea is that you can gain knowledge of your potential fate,and chose the course of action accordingly.

Chrollo trusts the ability since he uses it to make important decisions,like whether to stay in yorknew.

If he can use it to his advantage and cheat fate,how could he be a fatalist??

Our will above all else

The phantom troupe is incredibly strong as a group,yet they retain qualities of underdogs. They were born in the most marginalised community possible,in a place that doesn’t officially exist,and yet they’re now feared and infamous.

They won’t allow the world to take from them

They will impose their will on others.

Uvo’s requiem

I will never shut up about it.

It perfectly represents the nature of the Phantom Troupe and Chrollo’s philosophy.

We know Chrollo believes in souls,but does a man who sits in a broken Church and wears upside down crosses believe in any just god? There’s no way Chrollo isn’t a nihilist when it comes to ultimate justice. He expressed those doubts even as a child,and it seems that while he now thinks souls exist,he doesn’t rely on any afterlife.

He never relied on justice from above,he always took matters in his own hands. Believing in souls may mean that he sees death as a change of state,and sees murder as more forgivable since “everyone ends up in the same place anyways”but this is just speculation.

Only he can improve Uvo’s situation.

Uvogin’s soul soon will be gone,who knows where. Chrollo can’t change that,he doesn’t even know if Uvo hears him. But he will fulfil his wish. He will send other souls off in Uvo’s honour. He will show that his life and death mattered. It’s an attempt to reclaim agency,however futile it may be,it seems Chrollo wants to prove something to the universe.

People are the ones who sever ties

Doesn’t this run contrary to his ideas about traitors? It sounds here like he expects loyalty from those close to him. Or does he mean that he himself won’t forget things unless he cuts them off?

He can’t feel less responsible for the deaths of his friends and he can’t forget his place in the world,can’t detach himself from it.

Hi identity is still tied to external things. And it means all of the things he has lost,all of the humanity he has shed were deliberate sacrifices. Like he resigned himself to give up his life for his goals.

It’s very much a show of will.

The coin

It’s a practical way to resolve conflicts. While it’s thrown by a person,and the outcome can be random, therefore unbiased,it could also be them calling to fate to decide who gets his way.

“May happen what is meant to happen”

This leads to no conclusion,but it’s absolutely related to fate so I’ll mention it here.

1/13 analysis

I have no idea how canon this song is,but it’s a great interpretation of the information we have in canon. It touches on many themes crucial to Chrollo and his Troupe. I’m using the translation from the wiki,I don’t know Japanese and honestly I prefer the translation from the YouTube lyric video

youtube

This song mentions almost everything I’ve talked about in this post,and even more.

“..From the beginning”

They were doomed from the beginning. Even if they wanted something innocent and simple as dubbing anime,finding purpose in entertaining the masses.

First Chrollo rejects the notion of life,then he goes on to deny fate.

But he also approves them. “As if” The Troupe doesn’t act in accordance with reality and what it has in store for them,they act as if none of those things were real.

Life not existing means it’s meaningless and because of the horrible conditions Chrollo grew up in,he and the others were never given a chance of any life worth living. Life is real,but not for them. It’s something they deny themselves,something they abandon in favour of their duty and goal.

Fate might refer to both,inaction,staying anonymous nobodies,and doing something,surpassing themselves,and then dying a horrible death.

If there is a fate,can they know what it is?

Is Chrollo following his destiny,or acting in spite of it? If only he knew,haha. Maybe it’s not his choice to become a murder,maybe it was meant to be from the beginning. Or maybe he was meant to do nothing and be nothing,yet he refused.

”When we’ve obtained everything,we will disappear without a trace”

Went from actors to phantoms,got it? ;) This line brings in a sense of finality,of inevitability. So he knows they won’t live forever,that there is a limit. Sure,it could be referring to them being impossible to track,but I chose to believe there is more,since Chrollo touches on the possibility of them actually dying.

In that case,should they “separate and face eternity” the Spider’s Soul will live on. Or it must live on! Pretty spiritual, huh.

I love that while everything hints at his views being nihilistic,Chrollo’s spirituality is almost hopeful.

So is his song.It talks both to the enemy (you can’t run from us) and his fellow Spiders. He tells them to just steal,to consult the coin if needed,to trust that the Spider will live on and everything will be fine.

“What is there to fear?” I’m gonna cry,I swear.

This song also has this notion that whatever happens,happens.

“Que sera,sera” and shit. It shows acceptance of things that shouldn’t be accepted. Even his own feelings at the loss of his friends Chrollo acknowledges,and then ignores.

“Can’t be blamed.” He can’t blame himself for still feeling those things,but he just dismisses them. “You will want to sneeze at dust,it’s normal,but hold it in.” = “You will cry at deaths,feel grief and anger. Those reactions are normal,but don’t let it affect you”🗿🧍

What has pride to do with this? I’m genuinely confused. If this mf telling us to be humble? Is it prideful to expect no one to die? Or is this the typical “detach yourself from your feelings”?

Conclusion: Chrollo is seen as a fatalist because of his stoic attitude. The only way (according to HxH fans) to deal with what he goes through,is to tell himself it’s meant to be. I propose that no,he doesn’t think so. He thinks that regardless of fate,he can outsmart it and come out on top. Even if he loses people in the process,in the end it will be worth it. And even if he feels grief at their deaths,that’s just what happens. It didn’t stop him until now. All that just to steal? No,Ofc not. He just doesn’t know how to express his motives.

DO YOU EVEN HAVE CLEAR MOTIVES,CHROLLO? Your journey leads you to nowhere,and we don’t even know where it all went wrong

#chrollo lucilfer #phantom troupe #hxh #hxh headcanons #meteor city #chrollo #character analysis

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imagobin · 1 year ago

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🔯Zoldyck Family HCs🔯

I wish this had been explored more in the actual manga, because to me the Zoldyck family is one of the most intriguing things in HxH.

We did get this chart which is very interesting, but I wanted to expand on it with a couple more headcanons and speculations. Doesn't include Maha, Zigg or Grandma Zoldyck cause there's too little info on them (Seriously Zeno, where do you keep your wife?)

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🪭Kalluto🪭

Starting with Kalluto because he's the youngest and also gets very little time to shine.

It is commonly agreed that he cares about Killua a lot and wishes he'd pay attention to him, and I think so too.

His relationship with Illumi is possibly one of mentor and apprentice, they go on missions together and Illumi supervises him to make sure he carries out assassinations properly, without toying with his victims too much.

We don't see him interacting with Milluki at all aside from flashbacks, but the two might have a pretty positive relationship. I think it still means a lot to Kalluto that his shut-in brother would take time out of his day to go on walks and play with him, even if that hasn't happened in a while.

As for his relationship with Silva and Zeno, I do like the idea of both father and grandpa being proud of Kalluto for mastering Nen at such a young age, though Silva might be a bit disappointed that Kalluto disobeyed him and became part of the Phantom Troupe.

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🧸Alluka🧸

Such a sweetheart aaaa I wanna see more of her and Killua's future adventures.

Ever since her ability was discovered by the other members of the family, Alluka's either been used to get something (Looking at you, Milluki), or feared. Silva and Kikyo definitely fear her powers, and Zeno probably does too. Though... I have a weird feeling that unlike the rest of the family, Zeno would be like Killua and at least respect Alluka's pronouns, if she likes 'she/her', Zeno doesn't see the problem with referring to her as a girl.

I think Alluka on the other hand really wants to love the members of her family, despite how horribly they've treated her. She probably doesn't even understand why they all became so cautious around her at one point.

The only family member that Alluka does not like is Illumi for... pretty obvious reasons. Illumi isn't subtle at all with his desire to control her and her powers; plus, Illumi's hurt Killua the most, I don't think she could ever be okay with someone who's hurt her big brother so much (even by Zoldyck standards).

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🪀Killua🪀

Not much to say about Killua since we see him interact with most of his family a bit more in-depth... aside from Kalluto-

Killua has definitely always favored Alluka over Kalluto, despite how much the youngest Zoldyck strives to get his attention. This is probably because of how close Kalluto is to his mom.

Killua finds Kikyo annoying, and definitely doesn't trust her, so since Kalluto spends a lot of time with their mother, by proxy, Killua can't bring himself to trust his younger brother either.

Aside from Alluka, whom he obviously trusts deeply, the other member of the family he trusts the most is probably his grandpa; Zeno clearly favors him and seems to be more supportive of Killua's choices compared to the rest of his family.

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🎮Milluki🎮

Milluki my beloved, how I wish you weren't just the butt of a joke 90% of the time.

Physically speaking, he's probably the weakest Zoldyck besides Alluka, so he's most likely afraid of the other men in the family, and would definitely not want to get on their bad side.

He obeys and respects both Silva and Zeno, but I also think Milluki would like to be treated like Killua by his grandpa, that's why he shares his invention ideas with him; he wishes Zeno would praise him some.

Milluki is 100% a mama's boy, he cares about her so much, he definitely had the strongest reaction out of everyone when his mother's safety was threatened by Nanika's powers. Despite this, Kikyo doesn't seem to give him any particularly special treatment, again, that is reserved for Killua.

He's most definitely also the unlucky middle child, I think he was definitely put to the side once Killua was born; his family fully focused on Kil since he's the heir, and left Milluki to kinda do his own thing. I feel like this consequentially brought him to be jealous of Killua and all the attention he gets.

I swear he's even worse off than Kalluto, cause at least he's got his mother's love, Milluki's basically neglected even by Zoldyck standards.

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📍Illumi📍

Man's the family's workaholic, you can't change my mind, he's also a little fucked up, but we love him for it.

He definitely cares about his whole family in his own twisted way. That includes Milluki too, they were the first two Zoldyck siblings so until Killua was born, they most definitely spent a lot of time together. Illumi doesn't really understand his brother, but he humors him.

His relationship with Kikyo is never really explored, but I see them as being definitely close, not as close as she is with Kalluto, but close. They share the same mindset when it comes to Killua. Illumi was also her first child, so she definitely poured her heart and soul into training him into being the perfect assassin, and it definitely shows.

Illumi's dynamic with his father and grandfather is definitely one of mutual respect, they may not agree on everything, but they trust each other's strength. Silva also appreciates Illumi's dedication to the family's business.

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👒Kikyo👒

M'lady- okay no girl needs to take a chill pill, her fashion tho, on point.

Obviously her view of love is completely warped, growing up in Meteor City and marrying a world-renowned assassin didn't do her mental health many favors. But just like Illumi, she does love her kids deeply in a really twisted way.

She plays favorites, Killua and Kalluto are the ones she cares about the most, and with how dismissive of Milluki she is, he's probably her least favorite, kinda tragic since Milluki loves his mother a lot... but then we have Illumi, where does he stand? Kikyo cares about her first born child of course, she's very proud of him, and trusts him a lot with keeping Killua in check, since they seem to share opinions on how he should be trained. She wishes he'd spend more time with her for sure.

Her opinion however is way too often brushed off by Silva, not because she's a woman, but because she's not been raised like a Zoldyck, she doesn't fully know their ways, so she's not seen as a valid voice. It's an unfair treatment, and it really pisses her off.

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☄️Silva☄️

True winner of the 'Father of the Year' award, along with Ging, great job you two.

Silva honestly has evil mastermind vibes, he cares about Killua, but also wants to constantly control him and test him in his own way (the needle was a massive proof of that). He's just a lot more subtle with it compared to Illumi and Kikyo.

He loves his wife, no doubt, even if he doesn't show it very often, I think the man is prone to small displays of love, and definitely shows it more with his actions than his words. (Him agreeing to let Alluka out of her room because he doesn't want Kikyo to die is definitely the biggest display of this we've seen canonically, he's aware of how dangerous Alluka's powers could be, but he still chose to risk the consequences of that over sacrificing his wife).

His relationship with his other kids is not really explored that much, but I believe he's mostly satisfied with all of them. I don't think he's super disappointed in Milluki either, but he definitely doesn't expect much of him, he does wish he'd take things more seriously.

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🐲Zeno🐲

My favorite anime old man! I really wish people would pay more attention to him, he's cool as hell.

Zeno is probably the most chill man in the family, maybe cause he's old, but he's definitely the least likely to snap back at any of his family members.

He has a very strong set of morals, with him not wanting to cause any unnecessary deaths and all. I feel like because of this, he silently disapproves of Illumi's ways, especially regarding his Needle People, and the older brother's desire to control Killua.

Zeno doesn't really think much of Kikyo, he acknowledges her skills and such, but doesn't really go out of his way to interact with her. These two have definitely had their disagreements, mostly because Zeno tends to act on his own without consulting anyone, let alone her, which inevitably angers Kikyo.

He is quite proud of all his grandchildren, even if he's mostly focused on Killua. Much like Silva, he is happy that Kalluto mastered Nen at such a young age. He also sees more potential in Milluki, but wishes he was more committed to the family's business and used his genius to its full potential.

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#these are just my headcanons #hxh #hxh headcanons #hunter x hunter #zoldyck #zoldyck family #killua #illumi #kalluto #milluki #zeno zoldyck #kikyo zoldyck #silva zoldyck #alluka #killua zoldyck #illumi zoldyck #alluka zoldyck #kalluto zoldyck #milluki zoldyck

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i-heart-hxh · 11 months ago

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kurapika anon back again!! i would love to know more about your thoughts on the troupe not being fully responsible for the death of the kurta.

personally, i see it more as they committed the actual murder, but someone was pulling the strings, whether that be through the pariston/sheila theory, or tserriednich. especially considering they seem to be under the impression that it’s some kind of revenge on the kurta, while the kurta have been peaceful for a very long time by the time they were massacred.

i saw someone on reddit make the theory that the kurta were the ones that caused meteor city to be so broken down to begin with, but that would be so long ago that i think it would be unreasonable for the troupe to still act on it. possibly chrollo was lied to about that being the case? or falsely told that the kurta were planning an attack?

Hi again!

So, I will say that my theories are all a bit vague, more like a bunch of puzzle pieces than a complete picture, but I'll share my thoughts nonetheless! If anyone else has additions or more insight, feel free to add on--there's so much to consider on this topic, and I don't feel like I've considered every single piece of evidence there is out there.

For a long time, I've felt that there's uncertainty around the Phantom Troupe's actions and the Kurta massacre. For one thing, we've never been shown any images of the Phantom Troupe being involved, nor did any characters we know of directly witness them killing the Kurta, and Uvo initially doesn't remember the Kurta when asked about them (he does when he sees Kurapika's eyes, but even then it seems a little odd). The way the Kurta massacre is set up seems intentionally vague all around, which makes me think there are pieces of the puzzle Togashi has been keeping from us.

He remembers enough where it's entirely possible they did do it or at least heard about it in depth, but also remember the Phantom Troupe started out as an acting troupe. It's possible they either a) did it after being given false information or were manipulated into it, or b) took credit for it for some reason even though they weren't involved. I lean more towards a), but b) is also possible.

I also feel like, the Phantom Troupe are clearly not morally upstanding citizens, to put it mildly, but as we've seen them are they truly capable of a full-on intentional massacre of innocent people, including children, for the sake of money/trophies? Most of the violence we've seen from them has been towards mafia and Chimera Ants. I mean, Feitan does torture people as a hobby and Chrollo kills a whole bunch of audience members in his fight with Hisoka, among other examples, so it's not like it's impossible to even consider they would ever do such a thing, but I'm just somewhat skeptical nonetheless.

The Phantom Troupe backstory threw even more uncertainty into the mix for me. Sarasa is a victim in a similar way to the Kurta, and as of yet the jump between where the Phantom Troupe left off in the flashback and the way the Kurta are killed seems strange. It's likely we'll get something more to fill that gap and explain how this development happened in the manga going forward, but, there's just something about it that seems "off" to me. How did this group of people go from wanting to find the murderers of their friend--albeit at all costs, and saying they are willing to become the villains and kill people in order to get revenge--to a group of people who may have murdered 100+ people for the sake of trophies, similar to what happened to Sarasa? That doesn't match their stated aims, and while it's possible they simply became more and more twisted by going down their road of revenge, I feel like there's more to it. It's interesting either way, so if that is the case, I'll accept it, but I feel like we're missing something major.

Note that they're trying to become so fearsome that people stay away from Meteor City and the people can be safer there/not preyed upon, so that would give them a reason to maybe take credit for what happened to the Kurta even if they weren't involved. And again, they started off as an acting troupe...

I also have had a suspicion for a long time that, with the way Kurapika's powers are set up specifically for the Phantom Troupe, he might eventually end up in a situation where, oops, the Phantom Troupe is not his target after all in order to get what he wants! It feels like a very Togashi kind of irony, and will put him in a difficult position.

Tserriednich is shown with a head above his throne in addition to the scarlet eyes, and his nen beast has a child's head inside of it that looks suspiciously like Pairo's. I think it's very possible Tserriednich or mafia surrounding him were involved in the acquisition of the scarlet eyes. It's possible either the Phantom Troupe were baited or manipulated into killing the Kurta in some way (told that the Kurta were responsible for Sarasa's death and the missing children in Meteor City, for instance), or that they took credit for it in order to bolster their own image as fearsome villains in order to reach their aims.

I also feel like Tserriednich is a direct representation of what Kurapika (and to a certain extent, the Troupe too, at least in the past) resents and abhors--the wanton murder of human beings for reasons of aesthetics, trophies, and "art." So to me, it makes sense he would be Kurapika's ultimate antagonist rather than the Troupe, who in a way are weirdly similar to Kurapika, or at the very least started out that way. If Tserriednich was somehow involved with what happened to Sarasa/the children of Meteor City as well (assuming the timeline supports such a thing, and I'm not totally certain it does), it's even possible Kurapika and the Troupe could end up on the same side, both trying to take Tserriednich down.

There's also the question of Sheila... Like I pointed out in this post, I'm very curious about this panel of her turning away from the Troupe and what it means.

I'm not totally sure I buy the Sheila = Pariston theories (though I haven't ruled it out either), but something is up with Sheila for sure, especially because of her appearance later with Kurapika and Pairo before the Kurta massacre. It's possible she lured someone there, possibly not the Phantom Troupe but maybe mafia members instead--maybe the same mafia members who murdered Sarasa? Or maybe she did pass the info to the Phantom Troupe--but it is weird that here she's shown going away from them with such a sad and complicated expression (as if maybe she were involved with what happened to Sarasa in some way), so it seems odd for her to be working with them later.

@subdee did a great post on this topic as well that has some additional thoughts and evidence as well, so I recommend checking that out!

Ultimately, I think there's a lot of doubt and mystery surrounding the Kurta Massacre, and I do feel like the series is setting up the idea of Tserriednich being the final hurdle for Kurapika to take down. There are a lot of possibilities still for exactly what happened to the Kurta and also for what will happen in the future with Kurapika and the Phantom Troupe, but I do feel like we're still missing a few puzzle pieces that will (hopefully) soon become clear. I do think this arc is going to be the end for the major plots of Kurapika, the Phantom Troupe, and Tserriednich, so I'm very curious and excited for how things will pan out!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #kurapika #phantom troupe #uvogin #chrollo #tserriednich #sarasa #sheila #meta #long post #asks #anonymous #my posts

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jujutsukgojo · 1 year ago

Text

The Fourth Leg chapter 2

Summary: How it began.

tw: yandere, stalking, kidnapping, death, adult scenes/implied, violence, flashback scenes (a lot but that just happens), angst

an: this took me so long to edit omg.

Chapter one

------

THEN

Chrollo stands with his friends, his comrades in this endeavor for a safer Meteor City. The first one to arrive at the meeting is Uvogin, of course, then Phinks. Phinks combs his hair and yawns. “What’d ya plan this time, boss?”

He’s decided to create a plan to steal a map. It’s going to be dangerous. However, he knows they can handle it. They are thieves and take what they please, especially if he commands it. Besides, they owe him. He hasn’t forgotten their stupid plan all those years ago and how innocent blood is splattered on everyone’s hands. Well, except for Phinks, he assumes.

Even if all of these people argue with him about it, nothing can take away his satisfaction. Yesterday, he had the time of his life. Finally, after years of adoring and pining, he’s claimed you. Not as a friend whose heart already knew who it belonged to, but as a man and your boss. He’ll never forget it. He read so much on how to please and did it just for you.

It meant everything to get you to join and for you to submit to him. He, Chrollo Lucilfer, tamed you. Without violence or black mail. Just pure delight and passion. He’s taken your virginity that you so willingly gave to him in the house of mirrors, and greedily took all he could afford. Seeing your tears from your orgasms, how you tried to cling onto everything you could as he ravaged you, how amazing you felt, is something he’ll never forget. Such sweet cries and moans left you so tired.

And God, how you taste is more addicting than any wine. More satisfying than any substance imagined. You will never deny him of that. Of all of this. He’s mapped you out and is determined to feel you clench around him again. How could he not? You were his the moment he met you. Everyone knew it except for you. He took you under his wing and protected you. Catered to your every whim and was patient beyond belief.

Now, he’s proven himself to you as a man. One that can hit the deepest part of you and make you shake and have your eyes roll. As your boss, one that you submit to, and only him. No worries, he’ll always treat you like a treasure that a dragon would cherish. After all this time he has wanted you. He has always been completely besotted with you. There is not a power or ant in the world to make him let you go.

You took him wonderfully and made him see heaven. A place he didn’t think he’d step foot in. Maybe you’re the way there. Every look you give, noise you make, your touch, the dreams you have, and your glorious taste, lets him know it's true.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down at the memory of last night. The remaining bits of the Phantom Troupe come into the broken-down building. Some sit on debris, the others stand with their arms crossed. Recently, a new recruit has entered the fray, number eight. It’s a man of average height, thick wavy hair, and pure green eyes. He decided he was done with not fitting in with the world and joined.

Chrollo doesn’t know his nen ability. From the looks of things, he might be an emitter. He’ll give him one thing: number eight is smart by not telling him what his nen ability is.

Chrollo hears the crunching and ruffling of a bag. He looks towards the noise and sees you come in. He can’t help but feel a smidge of pride when he sees your slight limp. No one knows what transpired between the two of you. So, maybe your dignity will be spared.

He can see their disappointment at your arrival. He shoots it down quickly. "Enough, she's part of the Spider now." His eyes never leave you. Machi asks how you're useful. You stick out your tongue and refuse to share your chips. Phinks groans at that and crosses his arms.

“She’s the fourth leg.” He declares, clearing away the disappointment they have, especially when it's revealed that you're an exorcist. You look up at him with such pretty eyes. Do you know how beautiful you are? How cute you look right now, crunching on a bag of chips? Not to mention, you sat down next to him without complaint. You just automatically did it. Finally, you’ve realized you belong to him. His thoughts are interrupted by number eight.

“Very nice.” Chrollo’s eyes flick over to him. The bastard’s head is cocked to the side and his fingers are on his chin, like he’s appraising you. Pakunoda nudges him and tells him to stop. The damage is already done. Chrollo will not tolerate this.

In due time, he’ll make an example of him. Not in front of you, of course. Chrollo would hate to scare you. So, he’ll wait. He has always been patient.

________________

A few years later, Chrollo has once again come up with a plan. It all started with Sheila telling one of the members about the Kurta. As he is told, they are responsible for Sarasa’s death. Not only that, but they hold scarlet eyes which are one of the wonders of the world. You only heard the last part. You completely skipped over their alleged part of everyone’s dear friend’s demise.

Her name still causes soreness. Especially with you. Although you understand and have accepted that she is gone, it still hurts you. It was unexpected for Sarasa to end up the way she did.

Now is not the time to think about that. Especially when he welcomed you into his place after planning on making your favorites. Once, he had read that a date could be something simple, like cooking together. That was the plan. Dinner and a movie maybe trade the movie in with him reading to you. You always loved to hear him read.

The two of you get your stomach full of mediocre food. The plainness of the dish was mainly because of Chrollo, he’d say. He’s studied up on cooking before and watched all of those channels but still cannot hold a candle to you. The two of you settled on a couch he stole a while back. You had sat on it one day and demanded to have it. Of course, he did as you wished. However, he put it in his house as an excuse for you to come over more often. It worked, surprisingly.

After getting cleaned up and a few more kisses, he tells you only a little about his gift. “Our next heist is going to give you something beautiful. Something you will really love. Are you excited?”

You sleepily nod. He leans back, letting you snuggle to his chest. He wraps his arms around you like a lover would. No, he is your lover as you are his. Lately, the two of you have been doing things together a lot more. Just like a couple would.

He rubs your back and speaks in a soft voice, “In order for it to succeed, I need your absolute cooperation, understand?” You nod. He can’t help but give you kisses wherever he can. He swears he hears you purr when you hug him back. He’s so happy.

The next day, the Spider leaves to find the Kurta. Everyone thinks it is the Scarlet Eyes he’s looking for, and while that is partially true, what he really wants is the Dark Sonata that the clan holds. It’s cursed, so you’ll need to purify it. Your gift will be beautiful and done masterfully. While Feitan’s beloved fancies odd gifts like flesh or appreciates whatever he finds, Chrollo doesn’t think you would like a random toe for a gift.

To perform the most legendary music for you…the smile you’d have would be picture worthy. Something to belong in only the highest museum.

He’d have the Troupe play it since everyone has been told to take up an instrument. He told them that it’d help with their nen. In reality, they’ll play it for you. Your very own orchestra. Besides, they owe him. Forever, and always. He loves them dearly. They are his friends.

The elder meets him at the center of their settlement. The Kurta stands around, encircling them. Most are close to their homes, tents with blue fabric with Kurta clan symbols on it or the few buildings around with the same fabric draped on the stone.

They look nervously at the thirteen guests.

Chrollo gives him a dazzling smile and kind eyes. He speaks to the elder calmly. The Kurta’s eyes widen with horror etched onto their faces. Chrollo knows you can’t hear what is being said since you are a bit farther away. You can’t tell that he is demanding their eyes and next will be something magnificent. The Head leans in and whispers to the elder, “Where is the Dark Sonata?”

“I’ll never say.” The elder shakily, and stubbornly, states. Chrollo hums and decides to perform. He loudly asks, “And why did you commit such a sin against Meteor City?”

The members of the Troupe subtly look relieved. Had he been anyone else, it wouldn’t have been caught. Alas, he is a connoisseur of observing people. He loves to study them. Plus, he is familiar with his friends.

“Boss, you really want those eyes, huh?” Nobunaga asks. Chrollo smiles. “Hm, among other things. Let us revel in their glory. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Chrollie…what are you talking about?” Your nervous and sweet voice, asks. “This is the job, darling. You have your role, and you’ll get to play. As long as the eyes shine bright.”

You gasp in horror, your beautiful eyes round. “This is insane! Stop this right now!” Right when he thinks you’ve learned your place you retreat back into that attitude of yours. He takes a deep breath. “Enough! Just do your job.”

The elder looks at you. Chrollo hates it. He cannot stand the compassion, the care, you have for this nobody. Why are your pretty eyes looking at this worm like that? He’s doing this for you. Getting the eyes for you to see and for the city to benefit from. Digging for the Dark Sonata for you to hear safely.

The elder is about to speak when Chrollo interrupts. “Uvo.”

Suddenly, Uvogin strikes one of the Kurta’s legs and reveals a woman’s red eyes from across them. She doesn’t hesitate to go to the fallen woman who cries for her missing legs. Right then, Uvogin gouges the Scarlet Eyes out. Number eight uses his nen to preserve them and places them in a jar. With a flick of his wrist, the rest of the members go on the attack. He turns his head slightly only to see you horrified and disgusted. You run to him, pulling on his arm, demanding him to stop this. Him, the Head, your boss, your lover.

He jerks his arm out of your pleading hold. “Do as you are told.”

“You-thi-this is wrong! They haven’t done anything to us!” You see Machi begin to use her nen. “No!” You call out to her. You tug on him again and again. “Tell them to stop! This is evil, disgusting!”

Irritation continues to grow heavier by the second.

“Go and do your fucking job.” He points to a small group that is being guarded by two scared adults. The few children behind them don’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be this way, Chrollie. You're my friend. You can’t be this way.”

Friend. Friend? After everything he’s done for you. Provided, protected, cared, loved? You let him make love to you and fuck your brains out when needed. You had him lavish you with everything you wished for. Reading to you in the dead of night when you couldn’t sleep. You let him vent with his head on your lap and listen to his ideas, just like he listens to yours.

He gave himself to you. And he’s your friend? After the sin he committed and can’t forgive himself for, and done it for you?

Darkness clouds his mind. He pushes you off of him. You land harshly on the dirt ground. He points to the exit of their little village. “Go and catch stragglers. Miss one, and you won’t get a head start.”

You gasp and run. He remembers being this angry only twice. When you wanted to leave, and when Sarasa died. The only bright thing of that day was that number eight died and Chrollo let it happen. He couldn’t do it himself since the rule he placed for you. Members are not allowed to fight each other.

The Phantom Troupe watched as number eight begged for help from a Kurta warrior, knowing better than to help him.

He admits that he began to get callous. Numb to the pain and had lessened his caring hold of you. He pinned a lot of responsibility on you now. Everyone was surprised at this new behavior. You took it in stride, though. Even as the two of you withdrew from each other, he wouldn’t let you get far. Him doing this was to discipline you. To let you have a taste of what he does for you. For you to once again trust him like you are supposed to.

Not long after, the two of you came across Silva Zoldyck. He knew you weren’t equipped to handle someone of this caliber, but he pushed anyway. He thought you trusted him enough to rely on him, to let him be the offense and you the defense. Then, the unthinkable happened. Stupidly, you ran right to Silva and attacked.

Chrollo held your dying form in his arms. He cried apologies and prayed every prayer in the good book. Nothing was working. He expected something to snap or crush. He has read that his heart should break and it to be literally felt. He expected a part of him to go with you. Instead, he started to feel whole. And he hates it. He feels the true burden of himself, something he assumes he split with you. There is no heated desire for vengeance or even death.

He feels…lost. There is no plan or even an identity, he thinks. Did it die with you? Did the compass of himself leave with you? The name you gave him, did you take it with you. That’s fine with him. His name is yours; he is yours.

He kisses you with tears streaming down his face, some landing on his lips and blending with yours.

I love you, I love you. It was real, my love. No book in the world could ever describe it. Is this what it’s like for a soul to leave a body? To be a hollow shell for anything to fill in it, even the darkest of monsters. Or could this be what I was the whole time?

Who gives a damn about the monsters even if they share his face? None of that matters now that you’re gone…you’re gone. You died.

He squeezes you tighter, closer to him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck while your chest is pressed against his. If he was insane, he'd swear he could still feel your heartbeat.

The members rushed to him and were shocked at your departure. He thought he’d hear their cheers or see smiles. Never would he have thought they would actually be saddened to a degree. Some more so than others.

Like a strike of lightning, a giant bright light brings its force. It’s a smaller version of what took you, he sees. It comes down and in a moment of reflex, Franklin yanks him away from your body. There is a rumble underneath their feet. Dust flies up and around the strike that makes a perfect, deep circle. It was aimed directly at the Troupe. Chrollo had looked at it and your body was gone.

He couldn’t even bury you.

It was this event that completely changed Chrollo. Rather than the group staying together, they go their separate ways until he calls them, disappearing completely. Little do they know, he would frequent the places you loved most. That cottage that you and Chrollo would spend calm days, the meadow, Meteor City's library, and the church that the both of you grew up in. They are sacred places that he isn’t worthy of going to. They are practically holy, a place to cleanse a sinner such as himself.

--------

PRESENT

Here you are, sleeping like you didn’t run away from him. Your toes twitch and curl. You stretch your legs and yawn, slowly blinking awake. Chrollo sat in front of you, studying intently. After your betrayal, he’ll never admit to how you look like a cute cat. No, that’d only lead you to believe that you have a hold on him. And that, you will never have again.

The more he studies your face, the more he tries not to laugh at the situation. The whole thing is absurd. To think, he only discovered that you were alive is because of that Zoldyck kid. The little menace was teasing them about letting a spider slip. No one could figure out what he meant until Chrollo was abducted. He didn't have a plan and didn't inform the rest of them why they were rampaging that quaint village. He was just focused on the truth and the possibility of your existence.

Your eyes flutter open and focus on him. “C-Chrollo?”

It only takes a few seconds for you to understand the situation. His intentions, beliefs, and your place. You were right before. Number four is taken. As well as eight. Now, the other numbers of the members lost are filled as well. Have you figured out that there is no room for you? That this cushy bed is temporary?

Do you remember the hours before you fainted? He does. That and all of the memories he has of you.

You take a few deep breaths. “What’s going to happen to me?” He stands and looks down at you. Your eyes remain on the ground. He hates that. Worst of all, he hates that

------

THEN

He walks in the church with another basket of flowers. He hears Father Rizole talk to a nun around the corner. Before he can even make out what they’re saying, he sees a little girl stand next to the priest. Fists balled, eyes red, and surprisingly, in decent clothes. You can’t be from here. Not when you have name brand shoes that fit perfectly, and a hair that looks properly taken care of. Plus, you have a healthy structure.

With you in front of the window, the sun shines behind you, creating a halo. He can’t help but stare. Is this how the outside looks? Like angels? You have to be a little younger than him. But is it possible that someone young can be a wrathful angel? There’s no way you’re not one. Not with how fires burn in your eyes and the glow of your skin looking heavenly.

Unable to stop, Chrollo walks towards you with sweaty palms. His basket suddenly feels heavier the closer he gets. He gulps as he stands right in front of you. Your eyes remain low, like you don’t even register him.

“My name is Chrollo. What’s yours?” His voice is shaky. You don’t answer much to his dislike. Father Rizole speaks. “This is (Y/n) (L/n), a new resident. (Y/n) has only been here for a few days. I haven’t gotten around to giving a tour. Actually, Chrollo, will you watch (Y/n) for a moment? Maybe look around the church.”

Chrollo’s eyes light up at the proposition even though he wonders if the priest is lying about something. “I’d love to! Leave it to me!” Father Rizole presses his hand on your upper back and gives you a slight push to Chrollo. “Here, look around. Meet some friends. You know what? I bet you can use a snack. How about that?”

“I’ll take (Y/n) to the kitchen!” He’s excited. Not only can he hang out with you but you can share a snack. “Sarasa made some cookies with Sister Mary. Find her and have fun!”

Father Rizole asks to speak to the nun in private. She hurries away with one last slightly scared look at you. They leave you to Chrollo’s charge. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, okay? I’ll show you everything.” He tries to grab your hand but you yank it away. He doesn’t like that at all. His eye twitches a little. Especially since you still won’t look at him.

The two of you still haven’t found Sarasa with the cookies. Truly, Chrollo is starting to feel a little embarrassed. Here he is saying you can have cookies and he can’t provide them. “H-hey, I’ll show you one of my favorite spots. It’s safe so don’t worry.”

He guides you to a meadow of the same wild flowers he carries in his basket. Your eyes are still to the ground, not taking in its beauty. He’s twitching again.

“Why won’t you look? Can you not see?” His voice raises when he doesn’t mean too. Before he can say anything else, you plop to the ground. He gasps and tends to you. “Are you okay?”

There’s a heaviness in the pit of his stomach and a fear of you being hurt. “I-I’ll get a grown up!”

You sniffle. He waits to see what you’ll do next. Again, you sniffle and start to shake. “Y-you’re crying…are you okay?”

“I’m not crying! I don’t cry!” You yell as you shed tears. You finally look at him. “I don’t cry. I don’t care! I’m not…not…” You struggle to speak. Your eyes widen in surprise when you touch your face. You throw yourself on Chrollo, with your head on his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you as you wail. “I-I don’t know!”

You struggle with articulating your feelings, opting to scream, cry, and smack his chest instead. He knows you aren’t meaning to hurt him which is why they don’t.

He pets your hair that is decorated with barrettes. You smell and feel nice. “It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you. We’ll have lots of fun too.” He pats your back. After a bit, you calm down and are back to sniffling and heavy breaths. He takes some flowers and puts them in the hair between the barrettes.

“Am I pretty?” You touch the flowers in your hair gently. The look on your face is so innocent and vulnerable. He wants to cradle and protect it forever. He gives you a warm smile and with pure honesty, he confesses, “The mostest. Nothing compares.”

Sarasa appears with a plate of cookies. “Father Rizole said you were looking for me?”

-----

PRESENT

“Get that fake look off your face.” He cuts through with a tongue as sharp as a knife. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Reluctantly, you do. “Do you understand your place?”

You close your eyes for a second. “Not in the Spider. It’s filled.” He hums in affirmation. “So, where do you go?”

“The grave?” You sound too hopeful for his liking. He gets up from the chair and grabs your face. His eye twitches slightly, a dead giveaway of his anger. “That’s too sweet, isn’t it? Too poetic.”

“Chrollo, please let me go. It’s time, Chrollo.” He is a master at masking his emotions. Someone who had lost himself enough to fit any puzzle piece needed for a mission. For Neon, he just needed a mask that barely required effort. It was a person who he created for someone as naive as Neon. Over time, he has been able to handle so many personalities. He’s trained to keep emotions inside. Ha, leave it to you to rip that away.

He starts to shake in anger at the audacity of not only you and your question, but his reaction. His heart had hurt at the thought of you leaving again. Images of the day he lost you do nothing but run wild. The day he met you to the last, to the present, all rush before him.

When your body disappeared, he thought of where he’d put your memory. It didn’t take long to think of the meadow. Where he put flowers in your hair, calmed you down, the place where you first hugged him and cried into his chest and was unable to fully articulate your emotions about your asshole parent. He went to the meadow and created a small shrine in your honor, right where you first hugged him.

It was the right thing to do. The perfect place, one that no one has visited in a while. He regretted that immensely.

He lets your face go. With a low voice he declared, “Darling, you will never leave me again.”

You begin to sink at his words, fists balling against the bare mattress.

-------

THEN

“Chrollo, I have to go sometime.” He doesn’t like this. Lately, you’ve grown into that phase of wanting to explore. Talking of how life is outside, away from the city. You remember some of it and long for its familiarity. Years ago, Chrollo had been fascinated by it. It was one of the reasons he was so drawn to you.

“Not alone.” He says with finality. His words cause you to glare at him. “You don’t tell me what to do. I’ll go as I please. I’m practically an adult!”

You're fourteen, the same age he was when he created the Spider. He clenches his fist. “You’re fourteen! That’s a child.”

“Oh, look at you! You murdered countless people since you were eleven and created your little clique when you were fourteen. All I want is to go home!”

He slams his fist down on the table. Clearly, you force yourself not to jump. “That’s different! And this is your home!”

He can tell you didn’t like that one bit. You point around the area. “I am not from this God forsaken place. This is not my home or my people.”

“This is your home. You are staying!” He shouts. He’s never raised his voice at you before. Your eyes widen for a split second then fill with determination.

“No, I’m not. You can’t tell me what to do. You're making it seem like a bad thing. Whi le I just want to go home, you and your posse run havoc and ruin everything! What’s so wrong with me going home?”

The Phantom Troupe is his sensitive spot, and you know it. Yet you deliberately push it every single time just to hurt him. Chrollo is weak for you, he admits it and everyone knows it. Despite his love, there is an anger that brews inside him wanting to lash out. Degrading the spider is not allowed, you leaving is definitely off the table. Finally, he lets a tiny bit of that venom out for you to feel.

He leans in close to you, not breaking eye contact.

“Do you expect them to just open their arms to you? That doesn’t happen! You’ll die out there. And you think you’re ready for them, ha! You look for validation and throw a tantrum when it’s not given. How far do you think that will get you, huh? No one will care.”

He’s breathing heavy, panicking at the image of your back turned, leaving the city limits. He sees you live a life of poverty again or worse, a life without him. Marrying someone, having children, a cat and dog, and living in a house. He doesn’t see himself in these scenarios. It’s driving him mad with rage.

Look at him. Look at him! Stop looking down!

Your body starts to shake. Your head hasn’t lifted to face him since he spoke. When it does, he immediately regrets his wish.

Filled with hurt, you strike back. “At least I know what things are without having to read about it! Experience them without stalking people! I know who I am and don’t depend on a book to find the answer,” You rub your eyes. “But I have a name! I’m not staying here and wasting it anymore.”

You run away from Chrollo who stands stiff. He didn’t mean to make you cry. He was just mad that you thought of leaving. Your words hurt a lot, but nothing compared to the knowledge that he made you cry.

Much to his dismay, you don’t talk to him. In fact, you avoid him all together.

At least that thought of you leaving left your mind.

Over the course of a few years, you avoided him and didn’t talk to him. He had to watch you from the sidelines, growing and learning. He wanted to help you read and do math. Proving him wrong every time you did it. Chrollo, thankfully, got a nen ability that allowed him to be invisible. He’d watch you closely, seeing how much you followed Father Rizole and his studies.

You even took up various weaponry since you still had pent up aggression. Father Rizole was hesitant at first lest you aim at someone who annoyed you. Chrollo supported your hobby wholly. He went directly to Father Rizole and encouraged the priest to allow it. Chrollo even provided the equipment, unbeknownst to you.

The old priest wondered how he knew but Chrollo managed to convince him that he had heard through the grapevine and that people marveled at your talent. Upon hearing this, the caring priest caved. Despite everything, the children of Meteor city were like his own, including the Troupe and you.

After your training and studies, you go to your room and throw yourself on the bed. Chrollo managed to sneak in just in time. Suddenly, the most shocking thing happened.

You’re touching yourself. Your hands slip under your shirt. He sees your hands move and massage your chest. By the expression on your face, something soft and curious, you’re beginning to like it. Who did this to you? A rageful red is all he can see now.

Right before you can explore further, you gasp at the knock at the door.

The same day, he heads to the books, trying to calm himself down. Remaining on the sidelines and respecting your space was not the right move. Or perhaps it was, and he just let it go on for too long. Not when someone is latching on to you, making you feel things you shouldn't. As angry as that thought makes him, he couldn't just go up and demand for you to return to him. So, he figured it was best to look in a book for some kind of answer.

The book had an excellent plot with a sweet side of romance. He studies it closely. He’s seen it in movies and plays, but books just explain it better. None of the characters share similarities with you. He can become and act like any of these people. You, however, are an immovable force of nature. They do not compare to you.

Book after book after book, shows nothing that you’d accept. What’s he going to do? After looking at the sky, Chrollo remembers what you had said.

“At least I know what things are without having to read about it! Experience them without stalking people! I know who I am and don’t depend on a book to find the answer,”

That’s right. He can’t go to a book for this. Getting you can’t be written unless in the stars. However, he’s experienced this before. Knowing who you are and what love is. He perks his head up. The meadow. How he put flowers in your hair after comforting you. He closes whatever book that was and puts it with the twenty others he was reading to study.

He asks Father Rizole your whereabouts. “Last I know, she was talking to Ray.”

Is that the one who made you desperate? On your bed, touching places you wished were caressed by someone else? Schooled in controlling his expressions, Father Rizole doesn’t know any different. Chrollo excuses himself and gives a lame excuse of why he asked.

Once he leaves, he sets out to find Ray. From what he remembers, Ray was an average looking boy who, in Chrollo’s opinion, was annoying. He chewed and slurped too loud, his laugh was obnoxious and for some reason, felt the need to always be right even when wrong. Chrollo distinctly remembers how Ray talked to you when you were younger. He was always flirtatious and tried to get close to you. So, in a dubbing performance when Chrollo played a villain, he looked directly at Ray through it all. Apparently, Chrollo was terrifying at that moment.

By luck, he spots Ray blushing. The boy doesn’t notice the predator yet. The one who's eying every move Ray makes, waiting to strike.

“Chrollo? Is that you?”

He smiles and walks towards Ray, whose eyes are big. The Troupe has a reputation that has reached many ears. No doubt that is the reason for Ray’s nervous behavior.

“How have you been?” The boy nervously laughs. “Uh, good. Y-you? Y’know, besides the killing and stuff.”

“I’ve been fine. Actually, I need your help.”

Ray squeaks and backs away. “No, Ray. Not like that. It’s for more personal matters. Man to man.”

He visibly starts to relax around Chrollo the more the latter talks. “So, do you think white flowers will do?”

“Hm, I like red better.” Chrollo nods his head, taking in this information. “And your beloved?”

“I-I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ray’s cheeks are red. Chrollo chuckles, “Come on, I’ve heard some things. Tell me about it. It’ll make me feel more comfortable making my move.”

“Oh, well, I haven’t asked (Y/n) out yet.” Chrollo pats Ray on the back a little too harshly. “Why don’t you? I mean, she’s here, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know…”

“Go for it. You helped me a lot.”

“Alright, I will! If she says yes…where would I even take her? It’s not like Meteor City has a lot to offer.” Chrollo has his arm around Ray’s shoulders.

“Where else? There’s a meadow not too far from here. There are lots of flowers there. Just tell her you’ll meet her there. She’ll love it.”

“Thanks, Chrollo!” He practically skips away, heading to you.

“Tell me how it goes!” Chrollo calls out and gives him a thumbs up. Now, all he has to do is wait. Chrollo leans against the wall with his arms crossed. No one is around in the halls. He cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the few rays of the sun that peek through the windows. Ray soon runs back to him with a wide smile on his face.

“She said yes! She’ll be there this afternoon. I couldn’t have done it without you, Chrollo.”

“No, no. You did this yourself. Just needed a little push. Hey, do you know where the meadow is exactly?”

“Um, it’s-”

“Towards the forest. Just go west, a few feet in. It’ll be paradise.”

This scene feels so familiar.

Chrollo sits in the meadow, taking in the scent of the wildflowers. He hears footsteps and already knows who it is. He calms his heartbeat and looks to the source of the noise. You say nothing. Even though it eats at him, he takes you acknowledging his existence as a win.

Play it cool, play it cool.

“Hi, (Y/n).” His voice gives a slight crack. Dear God, he must sound lame.

“Hello, Lucilfer.” Your voice is as sweet as honey though your tone is slightly bitter. Your use of his last name stings a little but is softened when he remembers that you’re the one who gave him that name years ago.

“How have you been?” His legs lay long and unbothered, and he rests on his hands. He hopes he looks calm, maybe even suave. He’s matured in these few years despite his voice cracking a few seconds ago.

“You can’t be here. I have a date.” You continue to stare down at him with indifference.

“A date? With whom?” Your face remains the same. “With Ray. Leave.” Chrollo in the nick of time, stops his facade of nonchalance from cracking. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll leave.”

Your eyebrows raise at his willingness.

The moon has come out and the sun is gone. There are no stars above, just clouds. Lightning bugs float around to make up for those lost twinkles in the sky. Chrollo then makes his move. “How’d it go?”

“Shut up, Lucilfer.”

“Damn…that badly? What happened? Did he do something?” Chrollo’s voice raises in concern despite the fact he knew good and damn well nothing happened.

You mumble something incoherent. “What?” Chrollo walks a little closer. When you fall to your knees, he’s next to you in an instant. “No! What’s wro-”

“He didn’t show up!” You yell with tears running down your face, illuminated by the moonlight. “So, there! Laugh it up! You were right.”

Chrollo’s is now confused and worried. He doesn’t like you crying. He hates to see you sad.

“You said no one would care and you were right. So, laugh! I know you want to!” He’s genuinely taken back. He didn’t remember saying that at all. His shoulders drop. So, this is what’s wrong...

“I care about you. I want you. He might not see you, but I do. Do you understand? I want you.” Your lip wobbles just before you throw yourself on him, cuddling to his chest, just like the first time. This time, he feels more capable.

He lets you cry it out. He decides to apologize. “I’m sorry for saying that. I’m just a big dummy.”

You cry for several minutes. Finally, you settle for sniffles. “Here, these will make you happy.” Chrollo puts wildflowers in your hair. He doesn’t go near the red ones.

You gently touch them, tears drying on your face. “Does it look good?”

“Gorgeous.” You’re not leaving him again.

----

PRESENT

Much to your reluctance, he drags you out of the room. Your bare feet skid along the wooden floor, trying to resist his pull. This only makes him tug harder. You wince and lessen your fight.

Chrollo sees you look around, taking it all in. He has a more modern taste that is complete with an extensive library. You were always one to throw in some kind of weird decoration for it to not look so ‘bland’. That’s what you wanted. He preferred to have simplicity and elegance.

You say nothing as he continues to lead you out of a bedroom and land in the foyer. “Where are we going?”

“Down memory lane.” He opens a green portal from his book. It rotates like a flipping coin.

“Do you remember this?” He’s holding your hand, guiding you through the carnival. It looks the same as it did last time. Even the night sky looks similar. The stars still shine and twinkle as they did before. The cotton candy vendor is different, but it’s made the same way. The elephant ears are still bigger than a human’s head. Laughing families are still joyous and oblivious to the monster with a book.

“What about this?” He brings you to that damn roller coaster. He notices how your legs rub together ever so slightly. You probably don't even realize that you did it. “I’ve seen better.”

He clutches your hand tighter. “How about here? Have you seen better?” He guides you into the house of mirrors. The place where you lost your virginity. The blue striped building still looks the same and is still barely used. Back then, he made sure to make the experience special for you even if it happened in the heat of the moment. Not just because of the pact that was cemented, but because it was you.

His tone is bitter after the memory of your legs wrapped around him and the understanding he had. At the time, he could feel the promise of him being your only. Until he found out that you gave yourself to another. Like it all meant nothing. As if you giving him a name meant nothing. As if he meant nothing.

You gave him his last name. Before that, he didn’t have one. Here you came into his bleak life and lightened it up with an identity. A compass on the open ocean and a light in the darkest of tunnels. Apparently to you none of it matters.

Chrollo wears a smile. “I haven’t been here in years. You?”

“I haven’t either, Lucilfer.” Although you named him, it stung that you don’t address him properly. A nickname he never wanted to stop hearing.

“You sure? You didn’t fuck anyone else in here?” You gasp a little. “No. Even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

He clutches your hand tighter. “Let us reminisce then, dearest.”

The two of you waltz in the house of mirrors. The glass is confusing, and the lighting gives an eerie feel. It’s brighter than last time. “What’re we doing in here anyway?”

“Showing you what you left. Do you remember the fun we had over the years? The passion?”

“I remem-” You stop talking when you hear rattling. “Keep your voice down, someone else is here.” You warn.

“Are you scared, my darling?” He notices that you hold his hand closer to you. “No! I can take care of myself just fine. I’m embarrassed. Here you are talking about old shit and someone can hear!”

“Old shit…” He whispers. You nod. Suddenly, the noise gets closer until you see a familiar blond head. “Kurapika!”

Your eyes light up when you see him, the red eyed killer. His eyes are the purest form of the color. Filled with rage and wrath in them, they glow. Before you can even take a step forward, Kurapika launches his attack. Brutal chains race towards you with the intent to kill and scare. You don’t even realize it, Chrollo notes.

“(Y/n)!” He grabs you one handedly to dodge it. You are in his right arm, shocked and heartbroken. “Pika…”

The boy you took care of shouts obscene things at you. Chrollo growls and puts you behind him protectively. “(Y/n), run away!”

“No! Are you joking? I’m not leaving.” You shout back. Kurapika runs towards you, ready to attack again. “Kurapika, kid, please just list-”

Chrollo once again picks you up and takes you out of the house. The beach is calm and void of people. He puts you down far enough to where he thinks you’ll be safe. “Stay here!”

“Chrollo, please, don’t kill him!” You sit on the cool sand illuminated by the moonlight. You grab his hand and plead.

“After this? After Paku and Uvo?” You nod. “Please, that…that’s my boy.” Your body is shaking not from fear, but from disorientation as the killer runs out of the building and spots you. Your lip wobbles and Chrollo leans down and touches your cheek.

“I’ll try to avoid it. But love, if it can’t be helped, please forgive me.”

A tear slides down your cheek. He wipes it away and faces the furious Kurapika who has yet to address you with manners. That alone is reason enough for death. Chrollo opens his book, pretending not to notice your flinch. He flips through the pages, dodging every chain the boy sends.

It’s a fight that rivals the Zoldyck’s. The one where he thought of you when Silva launched his nen ability directly at him and Silva’s father, Zeno. Chrollo at the time had wondered what you were thinking when it happened to you. How funny is it that you were alive and well the whole time?

None of the boy’s chains touch him. He gets closer and closer to the blond. Every kick and twist the boy sends is futile. Chrollo has years of experience on him.

Sand lifts up from one of the kid’s kicks. The sand blocks the view momentarily then shows the boy on the ground once it settles. Chrollo’s book flips the page when the scarlet eyes try to raise up again.

“Chrollo, no!” You scream. The fight was happening so fast, and you were so confused that you didn’t act or even process it. You run towards them to separate it. “Please, please, he’s just a kid! He’s mad and scared-”

You finally realize why the boy is on the ground. There is a big gash on his side. A wound so deep that allows blood to soak the earth. “N-no…”

You try to touch him but you’re panicking. Chrollo can see your eyes widen and your pupils dilate. Never has he seen you so scared, delirious even. It breaks his heart.

“Love, breathe, breathe.” He calmly encourages. You take little breaths. “W-why? How could you?”

“I’ll fix it. Tell me how. I need to know.”

“I can do it!” You try to push his hand away. He sighs and shakes his head no. “You can’t stop shaking. Please, let me help you.”

You explain it the best you can. Chrollo watches as you stutter and stumble over your words. It isn’t much but it’ll do. “I don’t understand fully. Show me!”

"Stop fucki-stop screaming!" Your eyes flick over the boy's body repeatedly. Chrollo can see it in your eyes that you are drifting as you make eye contact with the boy's scarlet eyes.

Chrollo's eye twitches. "(Y/n)!"

There’s an urgency in his voice once the blond kid’s breathing becomes ragged. "I’m a-an exorcist not a healer. Oh God, what if I can’t-”

“Try your best, my love.” He kisses the side of your head and rubs your back. Your eyes are still fearful and shocked despite his efforts. Finally, your hand is out, and you whisper words that only the chanter and nen itself can understand. A symbol displays itself on the ground, surrounding the bloody young man on the ground.

Then it immediately stops. All of it does. Not only does your technique leave you, but the image of the teen disappears. There is no blood, no death before you. Only Chrollo Lucilfer and a guy with an undercut.

“Kurapika? Kurapika!” You search the sand in the spot he was laying on. You mutter his name repeatedly. You look up and study the guy before you.

He can see you recognize him: Milluka Zoldyck. With a handy ability to give illusions. It’s an odd choice for a Zoldyck, especially one that never leaves the house. The young man laughs at you and your devastation. There's a flame in Chrollo's chest that is too familiar as he watches you be laughed at.

“Thank you for your service.” Chrollo says. Milluka doesn't have time to respond when a gun conjures in Chrollo’s hand. He fires without hesitancy or remorse. The guy falls down with a look of betrayal. Although Milluka had a handy technique, he wasn't worth anything.

Chrollo turns around to look at you. To his surprise, you are on your back with your arm over your eyes, weeping. You were so caught up in the scarlet eye boy that you didn’t notice anything off. You couldn’t even control yourself from meeting his conditions. Him questioning it and your answer, then having to witness your nen ability. That went according to plan, but the kicker is that you touched his book on accident. You were so distressed that you didn't realize your hand landed directly on it when you went to the boy's side.

Distracted and careless is what you are. He taught you better than that. “(Y/n), get up.” His voice is colder now, more commanding than it had been seconds ago.

You don’t get up or even look at him. Your arm is still over your eyes, only letting tears flow. “Let me go.”

He grabs the sides of your face, pulling you up. “I did what I had to do. The house of mirrors was just to remind you.”

“Of what?” You whisper. He can see the despair in your eyes.

“Of us. Of the lengths I will go for it. Your nen means nothing to me. That boy is nothing. You my love, my dear,”

He places a kiss with each word. “My heart,”

“My compass,” He presses his forehead to yours, his hands still holding on. “My very soul. You are everything to me and I will not lose you again.”

You sob. “You’re insane…where’s the boy I once knew? How did you end up this way?” You try to separate yourself from him. His hands shake your head a little.

With a hiss, Chrollo clears, “I was always this way.”

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