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nev3rfound · 4 years ago

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someone i once knew : b.b - p.6

now that your memories are resurfacing, it’s finally time for bucky to get the answers to his questions and to see you, the real you once more. (4.1k)

oh my goodness, this is it?! a quick non soppy thank you for reading, but seriously all of your comments, feedback and excitement have made writing this series so joyful for me, so thank you and i hope you like the last part!

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX (THE ENDING)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

WARNINGS: mentions of hospitals, references to bucky’s ‘death’ in CATFA, blood, angst - i think that’s it!

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

Bucky ignored everyone as he stormed through the compound once he got off the jet. He didn’t care about the warnings being yelled at him, all he could hear were the words you uttered before you were taken away. ‘I remember.’

“Buck, wait,” Steve grabs Bucky by the shoulder, forcing him to a halt as he stares at Steve coldly. “she’s still fragile, Fury needs to see us, now.” Steve states, watching as the rage in Bucky’s gaze melt into sadness.

“I need to see her, Steve.” Bucky pleads as Steve lowers his hand from his friend.

“I know,” Steve sighs. “but she’s in good hands, the sooner we speak with Fury, the sooner you can see her.”

Opening your eyes, you blink rapidly as a series of faces greet you, all wearing bright smiles. “Hello, Y/n.” Someone steps forward, dressed in all black and with an eye patch covering one eye.

“I-”

“No no, don’t try and talk just yet.” The man states as he glances over his shoulder to the woman with a device in hand, tapping away at it whilst you watch in confusion. “I’m sorry to say it has been longer than it should’ve been since your last check-in.” He explains as you furrow your brows, remaining quiet. “We are aware that they are supposed to be every few years, but there was an accident involving Howard Stark.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, Howard, your dear friend who has helped you through all of this. “Is he?” You mutter, your voice is hoarse as the man simply nods.

“Due to Stark’s demise, it has taken us years to have access to your chamber.” He continues to explain, stepping away and past a group of people, strangers from those you knew whilst you remain inside your chamber.

“Years?” You ask, still tied up inside the chamber. Usually, once your eyes opened you would be released, allowed to walk with Howard and Peggy if she was available; but this feels wrong, somethings changed. “How long?”

The man pauses as he turns back to face you. “The year is 2011.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you look over at all of the people before you. “No, no that’s not possible.” You breathe out, feeling your chest tighten as you fight in the restraints keeping you inside the chamber. “It was 1989!” You state, but the man simply turns away from you. “It was 1989.” You repeat under your breath as three men approach you, one with a needle in hand and without warning, plunges it into your forearm.

“You’ll be safe, Y/n.” The man tells you as your vision blurs once more until your head rolls forward.

“Take a seat, Sargent, Captain.” Fury directs them both into the room, seeing Tony already sat, waiting for them.

Sitting down apprehensively, Bucky remains perched on the edge of his seat, hearing the plates in his metal arm whir loudly as he clenches his fist. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Fury who spares a glance at Maria, watching her close the door to the conference room.

“Are you finally going to explain what you know about my assistant and what the hell is going on here?” Tony asks, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on the table.

“Yes, we will.” Fury starts and Maria hands out a file from SHIELD, dated back to the late 40′s.

Taking the file in his grasp, Bucky eyes it carefully, noticing your name etched into the cover.

“What is this?” Steve questions whilst Tony and Bucky open their files, a photograph of you clipped onto the front page.

Running his thumb over the image, Bucky remembers being there for that photo. You had just gotten your summer dress, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. A photographer captured your smile as you walked into the hall for the weekend dance, Bucky right behind you, just out of shot.

“This is Subject 359 from Project Revive.” Fury presses a button on the tablet in front of him, revealing a projection of photos, showing you stood alongside Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, images causing heartache for the three men. “Miss Y/l/n volunteered herself after the war for an initiative to suspend life.”

“She went into cryo?” Bucky speaks up, sadness etches his tone as he focuses on your bright smile in the photo of you in between Howard and Peggy.

“She did, Sargent.” Fury states. “Y/l/n was Howard’s first subject to succeed in the trials, and was put into the induced state for organised periods of time and then awoken to ensure she was still healthy in all respects.”

More images flash up, showing both Peggy and Howard getting older, but you remaining youthful between the two.

Steve can’t help but feel his heart sinking at the sight of Peggy, the years he’ll never have with her, the forgotten time as a golden band remains on her ring finger.

“So how come she doesn’t remember anything?” Tony breaks his silence, tearing his eyes from the images of his dear old Dad to focus on Fury whose frown only deepens.

The projection disappears as Fury rises to his feet before pointing to Bucky. “The winter soldier happened.”

Bucky lowers the file from his grip as he watches Fury carefully. He remains quiet, too afraid of what will be said next.

“After the winter soldier executed Howard and Maria Stark, access to the chamber Y/l/n was held in was restricted.” Fury explains, now looking over to Tony who lowers his feet from the table and sits upright.

“That’s why you needed me.” Tony can’t help but scoff. “You took my DNA.”

“Howard was a smart man, but he knew his systems could easily be overridden by someone more intelligent in the future. So he ensured the only way the chamber holding Y/n could be accessed was by his own bloodline.”

Tony laughs quietly under his breath. “Tony,” Steve starts, but Tony carries on.

“God, Dad truly had a reason for everything didn’t he?” Tony remarks. “Too bad he wasn’t alive to see what a car crash he created.” He jokes, leaning forward to glare at Bucky whose head remains buried in his hands.

“It’s all my fault.” Bucky mutters. “Everything, after all this time.” He slowly sits upright as all eyes remain locked on him like a target.

“Not necessarily, Sargent.” Maria speaks up from the sidelines. “You see, Y/n had been left in cryo for just over two decades when we finally got to her. She was disorientated, and had missed an entire segment of history, the turn of the century, evolution of technology and much more.”

“So, we did what was written according to Howard, which Y/n had agreed upon if the time came.” Fury adds. “We took her to Wakanda, and suppressed her memories.”

Bucky shakes his head, throwing your file aside as he stands up. “No, she would never do that!” He yells, slamming his metal fist into the table causing it to split.

Remaining unphased, Fury carries on. “She did, Sargent. Look in her file and see for yourself.”

Bending down, Bucky picks the file up and skims through the various pages, past your health reports and to a legal document where your signature remains inked on the bottom of the page.

“Y/n Y/l/n was a broken woman after the loss of her best friend and fiance. She trusted those that were left behind and put herself into their hands, knowing she would be making a difference and aid the future of science and medicine.” A fraction of a smile forms on Fury’s face. “But bringing her into the twenty-first century meant changes had to be made in her mind. Memories had to be rewritten and others to be permanently hidden.”

“So how come she’s now remembering?” Tony asks. “And how come she ended up here, as my assistant of all people?” He huffs loudly.

Fury spares a glance to Hill who nods, before exiting the room. “Y/n was always going to have a job of some descript within SHIELD.” Fury paces around the room as the three pairs of eyes burn into his every move. “However, when Y/n returned from her time in Wakanda, after her memories had been rewritten we got in touch offering her a job opportunity which would lead to being Tony's assistant. What we didn’t expect during that time were two super soldiers to resurface from the dead.” Fury motions to both Steve and Bucky.

“So they triggered it?” Tony pieces the details together, pointing the blame to Bucky who tenses under Fury’s cold gaze.

“It seems that way. But now that she’s remembering, the details of the life she has supposedly had all these years are fading away. She’ll be confused for a while, but the memories implanted can be removed.”

“She can forget about that life?” Bucky questions quietly, having heard you briefly discuss memories of the life you never truly lived with such vividness. “She’ll only remember the life she lived with us?”

“Yes, Sargent.” Fury states. “Y/n Y/l/n will be the same girl you left in the 40′s, give or take some level of trauma.”

“Can I see her then?” The question leaves his lips instantly, barely allowing Fury to take a breath.

Yet, Bucky watches the glances exchanged between the other men, the uncertainty in their expressions whilst Bucky remains still.

Steve slowly stands up and pats Bucky’s arm, giving him a knowing smile before heading toward the door, Tony right behind him who doesn’t spare Bucky a glance.

Now alone with Fury, Bucky can feel his body tensing under Fury’s scrutiny. “Is there something else I’m supposed to know?” Bucky tries to remain composed as his leg bounces beneath the table, his foot repeatedly hitting the floor.

“Y/n will be unconscious, in a comatose state for the next week or so.” Fury explains, watching as Bucky sinks into his seat. “It’ll take time, Sargent, for her to recover from this.”

“But she’ll be Y/n.” Bucky comments, watching Steve and Tony walk in separate directions past the glass screens of the conference room without looking back.

Fury reaches down beside him, lifting up a metal briefcase. “Before you go, Barnes,” Fury unlocks the latches on the case, lifting the lid up. “there’s something you might like back.”

Bucky raises a brow as Fury reaches inside the case, taking something out and places it on the table.

Feeling his breath hitch in his throat, Bucky doesn’t trust his legs to work properly as he eyes the small box. “I, I never thought I’d see that again.” Bucky admits, a tired chuckle following.

“We kept it as per Y/n’s wishes.” Fury remarks, sliding the box across the table as Bucky grasps it in his flesh hand, opening the lid to reveal his prized possession, unable to forget the memories laced around the diamond ring.

Smiling at the jewel, Bucky closes the lid to the velvet box and places it into his pocket. “Thank you.” Bucky mutters. “For looking after her.”

“Y/n has been SHIELDS best-kept secret for almost 6 decades, Barnes.” Fury comments. “It’s about time she’s allowed another chance at living, don’t you think?”

Nodding to himself, Bucky pushes his chair back, hearing it scrape along the wooden floorboards.

“One more thing,” Fury interrupts as Bucky reaches for the door handle. “none of it was your fault, Bucky.”

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Bucky focuses on Fury as he remains straight-faced, but reaches forward, bringing the projection back up of you, Howard and Peggy.

“I hope she knows that too.” Bucky thinks aloud as he opens the door, closing it behind him before he can hear Fury’s response.

Watching the former soldier walk down the corridor, Fury sighs deeply as he removes the projection. “I’m sure she will.” He closes the empty briefcase, knowing that this is the end of Project Revive, once and for all.

Hanging from the railing, Bucky could hear Steve screaming his name, his arm outstretched for him to grab.

The wind was hurtling at his body full speed as his fingers began to slip from the rails, but he knew he had to make it, he couldn’t leave you for the second time and not come home.

Steve began to climb down from the train, moving across the broken frame toward Bucky, stretching his arm. “Just hang on!” Steve yells, fear rising through his tone as the bolts of the railing Bucky is grasping onto begin to creak, pulling away from the metal lining of the wall.

“Steve, I,” Bucky calls out, moving along the rail closer to his friend.

“Grab my hand, come on!” Steve cries out, knowing he can save him, he has to save his best friend. “Come on, Buck.” He mutters, thinking back to the morning before they left, seeing you in Bucky’s arms with the ring on your finger, a whole future for you both awaiting to be lived.

Looking up in desperation, Bucky cannot stop the scream leaving his lips as the railing breaks as his body becomes weightless, his arm still outstretched as he falls.

Steve screams as Bucky cries, falling through the air toward the ground at full speed.

The train carries on, turning a corner leaving Bucky truly alone as Steve breathes heavily, his heart has broken into pieces as his best friend is gone.

Lying in the snow, Bucky can feel his breaths slowing, life draining from his body as the white ice surrounding him is turning crimson. “Y/n,” He breathes out, looking up at the bare branches reaching for one another from different trees. “I’m sorry.” He whispers as his eyes begin to dip, just as several men appear above him.

Panting heavily, Bucky looks over to the clock on his bedside table. 7 in the morning, again.

He buries his face into his hand, feeling guilt course through his body knowing you’re awake and he has yet to see you. Part of him was nervous to see who you’ve become and whether you’re still the same girl he loved and lost all those years ago. Or if you’re this new version that he knew as Tony’s assistant, one who views him as the former winter soldier, not James Barnes.

Playing with the ring in his fingertips, Bucky walks toward the medical wing within the compound, already hearing laughter sounding from the room causing his heart rate to spike.

“She was amazing, truly.” You tell Steve, resting your hand over his as he tries to stop tears falling from his eyes. “And she was happy in the end, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, wiping his eyes. “but she seriously punched Howard for not taking Maria on a date sooner?” He asks again as you nod, gentle laughs sounding from you both as Bucky hovers behind the entrance, a wall of apprehension stopping him from entering.

“Do, do you think he’ll visit?” It’s almost whispered as you look down at your marked hands, scratches and dark bruises now littering your skin.

Hearing faint movements from the doorway adjacent to your bed, Steve smiles to himself for a split second. “Why’d you think he wouldn’t?”

Bucky leans closer against the doorway, his heart hanging together by a mere thread as you shakily sigh. “I just, what if I’m not who he remembers or even wants in his life?”

Ever since your memories flooded your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering what he’d think of you.

“I’ve been awake for two days, Steve,” You add, doubt clouding your mind as Steve silently prays for Bucky to just walk in. “and, and he hasn’t been yet I just, I,” You stumble over your words, eyes locked on the sheets covering your body as you remain unaware of Bucky turning the corner, walking toward you.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky quietly calls out, standing still in the entranceway with the box now in his pocket, out of sight as he clasps both hands together, flesh into metal.

Your hand slips from Steve’s as you force yourself further up the bed, itching to climb out.

“I wouldn’t do that, you know what Bruce said.” Steve reminds you, yet you tear the sheets from your body and uneasily rise to your feet.

“Since when did that stop me, huh?” You joke back, Bucky unable to stop himself from smiling at your playful antics with Steve, giving him a glimpse of what he once knew.

Moving closer to one another, you both can’t help but note the changes. Your gaze hovers to his metal arm, the black plates etched with gold leading to his shoulder, his long hair and stubble lining his jaw. But he still had the same loving blue eyes, even if you could see the pain lingering behind them.

Yet, Bucky could still see it’s you. Despite the bruising and cuts across your skin, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“James?” You speak up, too afraid to reach out as your hands remain by your sides.

“Y/n.” Bucky responds softly, taking a step closer as Steve watches from the sidelines, having never anticipated seeing this moment happen after he saw Bucky fall from the train all those years ago.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” You ask sadly as tears begin to fall across your cheeks.

Taking another step toward you, Bucky lifts his arm up to brush the tears from your face. His hand shakes as he takes a deep breath, allowing himself to cup your cheek in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hand over his as he holds back the sob in his throat. “It’s me, doll.” Bucky whispers as you squeeze his hand, not wanting to let go. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He breathes out, knowing no words can truly describe the past sixty years, not yet at least.

“I’ve missed you so much, James.” You try to compose yourself, knowing it’s no use as you look up at him, the man you’ve loved. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Chuckling sadly, Bucky nods in agreement. “I thought the same until I heard you playing the piano the other week.”

“Wake and dream medley.” You remember it, having danced many a time with him at his Mother’s house, twirling around the living room whilst Rebecca laughed with you as Bucky dipped you and dropped you by accident. “I, I,” Stumbling over your words, Bucky glances over to Steve.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Steve speaks up. “But it’s good to see you both, together after all this time.” He adds sincerely before stepping out of the room whilst Bucky guides you back toward the hospital bed, knowing you still need your rest even if you deny it.

“You’ve read my file, Y/n,” Bucky sighs. “I, I’m not the same man you knew.” He looks away, still cautious of himself, of his own mind. “There are things that I’ve done that I’m afraid of you learning about.”

Unable to take your eyes off him, you take hold of his metal arm with both your hands, gliding your fingertips over the cool metal as the plates whir into place.

And then the last thing Bucky anticipates hearing causes his ears to perk up. You giggle, a smile growing across your lips as you shuffle closer into Bucky’s embrace.

“I know James,” You tell him, lifting his arm to rest around you as you lean against his chest, inhaling the scent that was a foreign memory intertwined with old pillows after he left for war. “but I want you to know, I’ll love you, whoever you are or whoever you turn out to be. Nothing, and I mean nothing will change that.” You assure him, feeling his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

“You still love me?” He breathes out, trying to disguise the evident surprise in his tone, but you quickly move from his embrace, staring at him with sorrow in your gaze as your brows furrow together.

“You think I could ever have stopped?” You retort.

“Doll,” Bucky starts, but you shake your head.

“Why would you think I would’ve stopped, or possible could?” A scoff sounds from you as Bucky lowers his gaze to the marble tiles on the floor, shame overcoming his mind.

“James, for years I mourned you, I strove for a better future, dealing with losing you and Steve. My parents were gone, I had no one left besides myself.” You explain, fighting through your emotions that have been suppressed with your memories for so long. “In all that time, not once did I ever stop loving you, even if you were gone.”

“I was never very good at loving you though, Y/n.” Bucky admits. “We both know that I, I left you, twice. Both times with the promise of coming home.”

“And you did.” You comment, resting your hand on his stubbled cheek as Bucky glances up, seeing a shy smile form on your face. “You’re here now, we both are.” You chuckle in disbelief. “By some means, we’re both here, in the twenty first century, alive.”

“Never thought I’d live to see the turn of the century, let alone live in it completely.” Bucky jokes, hearing you laugh quietly. “Will, will you still have me then, Y/n?” He asks softly as he reaches into his pocket, revealing the small velvet box.

Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of it. “They gave it back to you?” You ask in disbelief, feeling the corners of your lips bury further into your cheeks whilst Bucky nods.

“And now I’m giving it back to you, its rightful owner.” Bucky states, lifting the lid revealing the ring, your ring. “That is, if you’d still like it, doll?” He apprehensively asks.

Yet, you roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from huffing in response. “Are you seriously asking me that?” You remark, and Bucky blinks for a moment. “And like this? Come on, Buck, at least give it a little class.” You joke, only ever calling him ‘Buck’ in times of relief.

Moving from off of the bed, Bucky grunts as he kneels down in front of you on one knee. “Y/n Y/n, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, my doll and my best friend forevermore?” His words mirror those he uttered decades ago in that old dance hall, and yet they still roll off his tongue with the same ease.

Following his action, you lower yourself from the bed, Bucky reaches out to support your waist as you kneel in front of him. “Yes,” You smile. “and I guess this time, forever means forever, huh?”

“You’re stuck with me doll,” Bucky jokes as you lean closer, your lips ghosting his.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, James.” You whisper, closing the distance between you both as you kiss him, the sensation of coming home after all this time hitting you like a ton of bricks as you wrap your arms around him, wishing to never let him go.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

And after all this time, Bucky was right, you had found him; only to discover he’d been there all along.

T H E E N D

(thank you to the following for all the love on the series - i couldn’t have done it without your support :) )

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart @soccer-100000 @sunflowerbunny2 @kickingn-ames @choerriesmotion @why-thats-just-delightful @officialfictionalwreck @romanoff-nataliaalianovna @hersilencedscreams @b-r-stark @dezzxmx @thearcher-temis @i-lost-my-shoe-down-a-drain @girl-obsessed-with-things @loitsurohto @shawnie--jo @alainabooks143 @dorothea-hwldr @bakugouswh0r3 @chloe-skywalker @btsiguess-kpop @austynparksandpizza @tomisagod @22-frozen-memories @peachy-aisha @emilytheukuleleplayer @pass-me-jeez-it @yuukiahim

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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

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I Know You part 2 - The Darkling x Reader

I knowwwww I took my time writing this but I think it deserves another part? Let me know 🥰

Read part 1 here.

You missed the warmth of the Little Palace and you hated that you missed Aleksander's warm embraces even more. As the tracker led you further up north, Alina and Mal reminisced on old memories and ultimately you stopped listening and kept to yourself, leaving you at the mercy of your own thoughts which were solely devoted to your intense betrayal. How could I of been so blind? You loved this man with your whole being and up until a week ago you would've gone to the ends of the earth for him and he had the audacity to lie to you. My Aleksander never existed, he was a figment of my imagination.

'Let's set up camp here.' Mal said putting his pack down with a wince. His shoulder was still badly wounded, your poor patching up did little to soften the pain. You pulled out your provisions and shared them with the others, thinking back as to whether selling the horse was a wise decision for mere hardtack.

'What do you think the General will do once he finds you with me?'' Alina never mentioned Aleksander's name and you guessed it was to avoid being questioned by Mal.

'Probably brand me a traitor and kill me.' You faced the truth head-on 'He was about to lock me away before I escaped and I'm guessing he's even angrier now.' You blurted as you chewed on the flavorless biscuit.

'Why are you here then? You can get away from Ravka, go to Ketterdam and never look back.'

'He'll find me, Alina. I might as well do something meaningful before I die.'

'What if he won't kill you?' Mal spoke up.

'I'd rather he did.' The thought of being Aleksander's prisoner struck a somber note in you and not for the reason they assumed. You didn't trust yourself enough to keep up your broken heart in Aleksander's presence for too long, that kind of love doesn't fade and around him, you were a slave to that emotion.

'We'll find the Stag and I can defeat him Y/N.' Alina sounded hopeful but at her words, you recoiled. Firstly, you knew she would fail, possibly killing Mal in the process but secondly, her statement ignited a brief spark of anger in you, a feeling of protectiveness for the man that was willing to take your life away from you. Stop being foolish. The man has killed countless times and will continue to commit atrocities in the name of power. You're better than that.

The rest of the night carried on as usual, Alina applying a salve to Mal's wound and you sitting against a tree, contemplating your life. Perhaps you should go to Ketterdam. You have connections there that would hopefully prevent you from becoming an indenture, but those connections could be used against you, a way for Aleksander to find you. Perhaps Novyi Zem would work for you. Alina and Mal had spoken about escaping there if she failed to defeat the Darkling, but you knew it was pointless. You had been by his side long enough to know there was truly no way you could hide and survive.

You know the parts of me that I showed you. His words echoed in your head as you tried to settle to sleep. Although you had uncovered his true face, you clung to his words like a lifeline. He showed you his loving side, he told you his name and his complicated relationship with Baghra, his mother. He trusted you with those things and he loved you, so he said. I do love you.

The tears came once again like they did every night. You had quickly come to understand that Alina and Mal were blind to your waterworks and were under the impression you hated Aleksander and wanted him dead as much as they did. If only they knew you fell asleep dreaming of his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings like he always did.

The snow was a thick blanket now as you approached the Fjerdan border. Mal was certain the Stag would be found any day now and with each passing moment spent dredging through the snow, you cursed your decision of coming with them. You haven't been of much use to the pair on the journey anyway, except letting the wind carry the smoke away when the fire was burning or blowing snow out from the trees when you settled for camp, but Alina insisted you were necessary. From Mal's behavior, you gathered he felt uneasy around two Grisha, so maybe Alina wanted you here to know she wasn't alone and her powers weren't strange.

You listening half-heartedly as she explained to Mal she was the one who needed to kill the animal but stopped when you heard a rustling in the distance.

'That way' Mal noticed too

'Hang on'

'What are you doing'

'I need to get closer to it' You blocked them out, your senses wholely devoted to watching the magnificent Stag. Saints, it's even more beautiful than I imagined it.

You saw her reach out and touch its snout, a light dome so bright erupting from their contact you shielded your eyes away. In doing so, you noticed the faint outline of a blue kefta in the trees, quickly heading for you.

'NO' you tried to block the shot but it was too late, the dome fell apart.

'The animal is not meant for you' Zoya bellowed as she fought to secure the stag.

You fought her in return, desperately attempting to knock her and the others off their feet but two strong hands caught you, restricting your movement.

'Take her' You heard his voice before you saw the contrast of his black attire against the snow. You fought against the soldier keeping you trapped, thrashing and kicking with all you could muster, completely ignoring the screams and shouts erupting from Mal and Alina.

He came to face you, eyeing you up and down, as if searching for any injuries. Even in the dark, you noticed the tiredness evident in his eyes with a hint of desperation. But no relief or love directed to you.

'Ivan, subdue her' was the last thing you registered before your eyes closed shut and deep sleep came over you.

***

You woke with a start, having felt no time pass in your dream-lacking slumber. The snow from earlier was replaced by lavish silks and drapes in a warm tent, his tent. You would recognize the eclipse sign from a mile away, especially on the embroidered cushion beneath your head or on the buttons of the coat you were donning. His kefta. He must’ve put it in you while you were passed out.

There were no cuffs around your wrists or restraints around your ankles as you lay in his comfortable cot surrounded by the sound of a crackling fire in the stove that always brought some level of comfort to you.

There was nobody in the tent with you, but you suspected a guard was posted by the entrance flap to ensure you didn't try anything stupid. You hesitated to get up. Will he be waiting for me? You didn't want to face him or fight him. The thoughts of a civil conversation with him withered away the more you reflected on your throbbing feeling of betrayal, but there was still that small voice in the back of your head, or rather your heart, that wanted to forget about everything and just lay with him like you did every night. The conflict caused you to cry yet again that night for exactly the same reasons as before.

You finally got up once the last tears dropped, your light footsteps carrying you over to the small fruit bowl sitting by the lamps. It was rewarding to taste the sweetness of a grape after so much time spent eating hardtack and hard cheese, all Saints willing, you'd never have to look at those things again. You heard the tent flap open and slowly, you turned to face Aleksander.

'You've been crying.' He observed and took off his heavy cape, laying it carelessly on the cot you had just slept in and standing away from you, keeping his distance although his own heart dropped to see you in such a state.

'Do you blame me?' Your voice was strong despite your appearance,

'I hope you are well-rested. The journey here mustn't've been very kind to you.'

'It was better than being your prisoner and rotting away in a cell in the Little Palace.'

'Do you really think so lowly of me Y/N?'

'I don't know what to think Aleksander.' You hugged his huge kefta closer to your body, enjoying being enveloped by his scent. Another thing that brought you comfort.

'I never lied when I said I love you.' His voice grew softer but you willed yourself to ignore it. The small voice told you to run up to him, kiss him, hold him and tell him you loved him too, but the logical part kept you firmly planted in your place.

'If I recall correctly, you said 'I love you but'...'

'You never stuck around to what I wanted to say next.'

'I doubt it would have fixed this.' You gestured to the lengthy space between your bodies and he took it as an opportunity to walk closer to you.

'Is there anything we can do to fix this?' He asked desperately and your heart leaped in your chest but it didn't last long as his hand caught your attention, The Stag.

The realization flooded over you with a jolt of pain for the second time in two weeks. Unable to hold it back, a bone-shattering sob erupted from you at the impending doom he was about to unleash on Ravka.

His eyes followed your own with anguish so obvious it hurt him, but he had to avert them fearing if he watched your pained expression any longer, he would rip out the amplifier himself without a second thought just to stop the heart-breaking sobs shaking your body. He reached out for you but stopped himself, the last thing she needed was his comfort of all people, he thought.

But you yearned for him despite the situation, so when he stepped closer once again, you rested your head on his chest still uncontrollably crying.

‘Why are you doing this’ your hands now held a deathly grip on his shirt, but all he could think about was the fact that you sought his touch out first, maybe there is some hope left.

‘For Ravka, for all Grisha.’ The answer felt automated and scripted but it was all that remained of his goal. There was nothing else, no one else, that would benefit from this except him and her.

He wrapped one arm around you and when you didn’t pull away, his other arm went to your waist, pulling you close and pressing his lips to the top of your head in an attempt to soothe you. Ironically, it had the exact opposite effect as you cried even harder because despite everything he’d done and everything he was about to do, you didn’t want to leave his side.

The conflict was rampant in your head and part of the shed tears were in an effort to calm your mind.

‘I’m going on a skiff journey across to Novokribirsk in a couple days. I wish for you to go back to the Little Palace.’ He spoke but didn’t loosen his comforting hold on you.

‘Why?’ You managed to croak out.

‘You want to come with me?’

‘I don’t know’

‘Let’s sleep. You’ve had a long day.’ He only briefly let you go to take off the kefta he placed on you earlier, but he was right back at your side as you settled against his chest on the cot. Although you had only just woken up from Ivan's induced sleep, your mind was tired from the self-hate your logical side spewed at you.

‘This is wrong. They’ll hate me for this.’ I hate myself for this.

‘If it is so wrong then tell me to go away. I’ll listen.’ You knew he would but you wanted him here with you.

‘Were you ever going to tell me?’

‘Yes. But I stopped myself after seeing how happy you were. I couldn’t bring myself to stop that.’

‘And look where it brought us. Look at me now.’ You raised your head from his chest and looked him in his onyx eyes. They radiated affection and forgiveness, both of which you were ready to give him. I’m a fool for this.

‘And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy Y/N.’ The determination in his voice pulled at your heart, for the next thing you knew your lips were on his, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow.

-----

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added !!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @theriveroftruth

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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years ago

Text

Catch and Release

Long fic with over 9k words in which the reader is a bodyguard working for the Nostrades and is present at the events of Yorknew. Events in the Yorknew arc have also been altered

Warnings: kidnapping, threats of violence, degradation, kink talk, mentions of death, the reader makes some not very good choices

To say that it was nerve-wracking to be sitting in such close proximity of one of the Phantom Troupe would be a massive understatement. You, along with the other remaining bodyguards of the Nostrade family, had witnessed this man – the one Melody had heard being addressed as 'Uvogin' – slaughter an entire group of mafia bodyguards and four of the Shadow Beasts completely on his own.

And now that same man was sitting next to you in the backseat of the car, the only thing keeping him in place being Kurapika's chains.

Luckily, though, his attention wasn't on you.

“Hey, driver. You think these chains can hold me?” Uvogin sneered at Kurapika, “if you don't kill me now, you'll regret it later.”

“Shut up.”

It seemed that you and Melody had the same idea to keep quiet and avoid attracting attention to yourselves, as you both kept your mouths shut and avoided eye contact. You didn't feel safe in that car. With either of those men. Even though he was on the same side as you, Kurapika had been out of control earlier, and with how much clear hatred he had for the cannibalistic murderer sat next to you, you worried that he would snap and endanger everyone again. Hopefully Melody would be able to calm him down if it came to that.

“Don't you understand? This is a golden opportunity,” he continued to taunt.

“Stop wasting time and just-”

The chains around him tightened and you could hear him grunting in pain.

“I told you to shut up!” Kurapika yelled, as he went as far as to turn around in his seat to glare at his captive, ignoring Melody's pleas for him to watch the road.

Uvogin was clearly taken aback by Kurapika's abilities, struggling against the hold of the chains as best he could in his weakened state. He had been shot at point blank range with a anti-tank cannon, and now it was chains that were doing him in.

You silently prayed Kurapika's hold on him would remain tight; it would be so easy for this giant to lean over and take a bite out of your head. You happened to have the binoculars at the exact moment he did that to one of the Shadow Beasts, and of all the things you had witnessed tonight, that had been among the most disturbing. Either Kurapika's chains were able to keep his movements restricted enough, or Uvogin just hadn't thought to do that yet.

The death-glares were still being exchanged between the two men with Melody becoming increasingly insistent for Kurapika to keep his eyes on the road. Not wanting the car to crash, you were about to try and get Kurapika's attention back on the road as well when Dalzollene suddenly called.

“Kurapika, floor it! It's a tail!” your boss's voice sounded over the phone.

“A tail? But who-”

You all seemed to have the same thought, using gyo to look over Uvogin. A needle stuck out of his thigh, a thin nen thread leading past your face and out the window.

“Shit,” you hissed, pulling the needle out and tossing it through the window as you rolled the glass down. It vanished into the night as Kurapika sped up. It had to have been the rest of the Phantom Troupe following.

You stayed twisted in your seat, looking back at a car that was following. It would be hard to lose them in the desert, and it seemed unlikely that your group would be able to make it to the city to ditch them.

Then, though you had a hard time making it out, you saw something fall onto the hood of that car, and it suddenly began to move about like no one was controlling it. The headlights behind Dalzollene's car completely vanished after that brief commotion, and after a few moments, it seemed as though they had been stopped.

“I don't think they're following us anymore,” you said. One could hope, at least.

“Not sure why they stopped, though,” you added.

“It doesn't matter,” Kurapika said.

Surprisingly, Uvogin had been quiet the whole time. When you turned back around and glanced over at him, he was staring blankly at the ceiling of the car, his anger from mere moments before seemingly dissipated.

“This is our chance to hurry back to the city,” Dalzollene spoke again.

“Roger that,” Kurapika answered.

“We'll switch the location to pattern C,” Melody said. She then looked back to you.

“We don't want muscles here putting up a fight. You can do that, right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

Now was not the time to lose your composure; right now, you needed to prove that you did have value as a hunter working for the Nostrade family.

Bringing up your arm and holding your palm so it was facing up, you focused your nen, and a small anemone bloomed in the center of your hand. You turned to face Uvogin, who was looking at you now, an eyebrow raised in question as he looked at the flower made of nen in your hand. You blew softly at the flower, causing the petals to flutter off and into his direction.

“The fuck is that supposed-”

Uvogin couldn't get any more than that out before the petals hit him, vanishing as your nen entered his system and forced him into a deep sleep. He slumped forward, and you were finally able to relax slightly, now that you didn't have to fear immediate death from a man who proved he could kill without the use of his arms or legs.

“Don't relax just yet,” Melody chided, “we still need to get him into a secure location.”

You nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

You felt better when he awoke next. For one thing, you weren't stuck with him in a tiny, confined space, instead standing to the right of Dalzollene and having more than just Kurapika and Melody with you, as the entirety of the remaining hunters were surrounding him. It also helped that he had been completely strapped down to the metal table that took up the majority of the room, various restraints and wires around his neck and limbs keeping him secured.

Though with the way those bonds seemed to be straining against his muscles, you had to wonder if they'd be as effective if he didn't have the drugs that Dalzollene had pumped into him earlier.

He looked about the room after waking up, taking in all of you that surrounded him. His gaze seemed to linger slightly longer on Kurapika, you noted.

“Do you understand what's happening here?” Dalzollene asked, “where did you put the stolen merchandise?”

Uvogin seemed unconcerned, sighing a bit as he glanced at the hunters around him.

“What time is it?” he asked.

He spotted you, and asked “how long have I been asleep?”

You kept your mouth shut, instead looking over to Dalzollene, who seemed to have grown angry with Uvogin's nonchalance about the situation. Pulling his sword forward, Dalzollene readied himself for a strike.

“It seems that you don't grasp your current situation,” he growled, “I'm asking the questions here!”

He thrust the sword downwards, intending to stab the spider in the leg.

Uvogin's aura flared, and the tip of the sword broke off as it struck him. The piece of metal went flying into a breaker box on the other side of the room, lodging itself deep inside of it.

The noise echoed in the room briefly, and then silence overtook it. To think that even with those drugs in his system, Uvogin still kept his composure and was still able to use his nen so freely. He stayed quiet, looking blankly at the ceiling again. This man truly was something else.

He looked to Squala.

“Let's make a deal.”

“What?”

You hadn't even realized you had said that aloud until he looked over at you in response.

“I'll spare your lives, so let me up now,” he said to you.

“Huh? Wh-what is he saying?” Squala asked, looking to Melody, “is he insane?”

Although you and the rest stayed quiet, you were certain that sentiment was shared by most of your fellow bodyguards.

“He's serious. I think,” Melody answered.

It was easy to write this man off as just being insane, but when you thought about it more, it wasn't like that: the Shadow Beasts, nen masters who were more powerful than you could ever hope to be, had been so easily disposed of by this man. If he could take care of them within a matter of minutes, the rest of you didn't stand a chance. And he knew this. He was literally only making this offer because it would be less of a hassle for him.

Strange to think that this was likely Uvogin being charitable.

“Let me make something clear: We're after the auction merchandise that was stored underground,” Uvogin explained, “if you guys don't know where it is, I have no business with you.”

A beat of silence passed as everyone took in his words, broken by Basho as he began to talk, clearly annoyed by Uvogin's words.

“Wait a moment,” Melody said, interrupting him.

“You didn't steal the merchandise?” she asked Uvogin.

“The safe was empty when we arrived. The Shadow Beasts had already taken it all. I guess they didn't bother telling grunts like you.”

His words stung a bit, forcing you to acknowledge just how low the Nostrades were on the mafia social ladder, but to you, it didn't seem that he was trying to pick a fight or get a rise out of anyone. He was simply explaining the situation and calling it as he saw it: you and the others were insignificant, and even after going as far to kidnap and drug him, he saw all of you as being so little of a threat that he was willing to forget about it.

You didn't need Melody to tell you that he was telling the truth.

Squala was sent into a mild panic at the realization that Uvogin wasn't bluffing, and the way the spider smirked at that panic made everyone tense.

And then his gaze went to you.

“Everyone makes mistakes. We haven't stolen anything yet,” he said, and then looked back to Dalzollene, “so take these off, and pretend you didn't see anything.

“If you do that, you get to live.”

His words sent a chill down every spine in the room, and despite your best efforts to stop it, your hands began to tremble, forcing you to clench your fists so hard that your nails dug into the palms of your hands.

Everyone seemed to be in a similar state as you.

Everyone, except Kurapika.

“What about the guests?” he asked.

“Guests?”

“The guests who were in the auction hall. Some of our colleagues were there.”

It was a terrible thing to admit, but in the midst of everything that had happened that evening, you'd managed to forget about the hunters who had gone to the auction. They were likely dead. And Kurapika had to have known that.

Another thing you had managed to forget was Kurapika's reckless behavior from earlier. Perhaps you should have been impressed that he had kept his composure for this long. But if there had been any chance of your boss deciding to take Uvogin's deal in exchange for your lives, you could just feel that Kurapika was about to put an end to that.

“I see. That's too bad,” said Uvogin, “we killed them. It was part of our plan-”

Kurapika punched him in the face as anger clouded his judgment again, his expression turning to one of rage has he yelled “how many lives do you think you took to carry out that plan of yours?!”

Before he could get another punch in, Basho stepped forward and pulled the younger man away, yelling at him to stop.

Uvogin didn't seem upset at all, despite the bruise on his face and the blood coming from his nose. If anything, he seemed amused.

“If the merchandise is in safe hands, we don't need him. We'll hand him over to the community,” Dalzollene said, having regained his composure during Kurapika's outburst.

Uvogin wasn't paying attention to him, but instead was still grinning up at Kurapika.

“So no deal?” he joked.

You all left the room as Dalzollene stayed behind to double-check the restraints on Uvogin, but before you could exit, he instructed you to wait for him in the next room. Kurapika, Melody and the others went down the hall to another room while you stood outside the cell door. It worried you that Dalzollene had asked you to wait, and you had a bad feeling he was going to tell you to keep watch in the room where the prisoner was being held.

“I just made sure that he was attached securely to that table, and I've put in another dose of those muscle relaxants,” Dalzollene said to you as he came out of the room, “but just to make sure he doesn't do anything, I want you to wait in there until people from the community come for him.”

God fucking dammit.

“You think he'll be able to get out even with all of that?” you asked.

“No, but I want to make certain that he can't try anything,” he answered, “we've all seen what he's capable of, and I don't want to risk him bringing down this whole building just from his shout. If he looks like he's going to do anything, I want you to knock him out again. Among those of us who are left, you and Kurapika are the only ones who can do that easily.”

He sighed.

“And with how Kurapika has been acting, I can't trust him to not do something stupid, especially if he were to be left alone with him. So that just leaves you.”

“Okay boss,” you said, nodding slowly.

“If you think you can get any information out of him, then do it,” he continued, “but overall, just keep him in line.”

Dalzollene dismissed you with a wave of his hand, heading to the desk on the other side of the room, presumably to make whatever calls he needed to the community. You could hear him muttering something under his breath, something about wishing Baise were here instead.

Going back into that room was the last thing you wanted to do – especially when you would be completely alone with him – but you forced your legs to carry you back to that door.

Uvogin's eyes were on you the second you entered that room, making a chill run through you as he looked you over. You ignored it as best you could, situating yourself next to the door and leaning against the wall.

“So you'll be keeping me company while we wait for those mafia idiots to come and get me?” Uvogin asked.

You had really been hoping that he wouldn't talk, that he would be more like he had been in the car, or after he'd woken up. Dealing with him not speaking and staring at nothing would have been easier, but it seemed like he was riled up after Kurapika's outburst, and now you were the only one left for him to take it out on. And of course, now you had no excuse to disobey Dalzollene's orders to try and get information out of him.

“Looks like it,” you answered.

“Hm. Guess I lucked out with that,” he said, “you're easier on the eyes than some of those others in your group.”

'Please just shut the fuck up,' you thought to yourself.

“What, going to give me the silent treatment? You were pretty quiet earlier, too.”

He paused, thinking of something.

“You mad about your friends, too? Did we kill someone important?”

“.... Not really. I barely knew them,” you admitted.

He let out a low whistle.

“That's cold. At least that other guy cared.”

“It is what it is,” you said.

Maybe if you just kept your answers short, he'd give up on talking to you.

But probably not.

“So then this is purely business for you?” he asked.

You said nothing, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Is it worth losing your life over this?”

You couldn't help the way you tensed, and he chuckled at you when you when you crossed your arms over your chest. You were trying to appear nonchalant, but he saw right through it.

“It looks like the others have made their choice,” Uvogin said, “but my deal is still open for you: let me go, and I'll make sure you live.”

“I can't do that,” you answered.

“You were watching while I took out those mafia, right? You really think it's safer to side with people that weak? When I get out, you can be damn sure they won't be able to protect you.”

“If I let you out I'd need protection from them,” you snapped, “and right now I'm more scared of my boss than I am of some guy who's going to be tortured to death.”

“Hmm. Your boss, huh?” he said, looking back over to where the sword tip was still jammed into the breaker box.

“Can't say he impresses me. And you can't be anything special if a guy like that can keep you in line.”

Your eyes stayed on the floor, and you refused to react to the taunt. It wasn't like he was wrong.

“I can't help but wonder. Why the hell is someone like you involved with a mafia family?”

You stayed quiet.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

His tone sounded dangerous, and it spurred you to reply.

“I need the money,” you said.

“What for?”

“That's private.”

He laughed.

“Well now I really want to know. What, you looking to save up for something? You got a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

It wasn't anything like that, but you weren't about to explain yourself to him. You worried you might need to tell him something anyway. He seemed amiable enough at the moment, but it looked like his mood could change pretty fast.

“What's your name?” he asked suddenly.

“.... Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

Uvogin was the prisoner of the Nostrade family, and yet he was clearly in control of the conversation you were having as you complied with his request and told him your name.

“So how long have you been working for these idiots?”

“.....”

“Oh come on! Is it going to hurt that bad to answer a few questions? You said yourself that I'm going to be tortured to death, what's the harm in humoring a dying man?” he asked, “you think they're going to ask me about you?”

The 'you' at the end was virtually spat out, as if to cement the fact that you really meant nothing to anybody. Looking over to the camera that was in the far corner of the room, you wondered if Dalzollene could hear the two of you. If he could, he hadn't yet felt like he needed to step in. Your boss had told you to get information if you were able, but given how this was going, you weren't sure if it was possible to accomplish that.

“I... I only just started working for them,” you answered, “a lot of us were hired just for this job.”

“Just for the auction?”

“Yeah. Our boss wanted to bid on some of the items.”

“I'm guessing your boss wasn't among those that we killed,” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because why would you grunts go after us if there was nobody to sign the paycheck for you? If it was just one of you with a vendetta I'd get it, but all of you? Nah. The majority of you would have run off the second you lost your reason to care.”

…. His reasoning was pretty sound, though you hated to admit it.

“So who all did die at the auction?” he asked, “just a bunch of the new hires?”

“No,” you mumbled, “only one of them was.”

Uvogin scoffed.

“Too bad for them. But I'd say they were luckier than you.”

“They were lucky?”

“Yeah. They're deaths would have been pretty quick. But none of you are going to have a that luxury when the rest of the troupe finds you.”

It would be telling him too much to mention that you were almost one of those casualties. Originally you had been assigned to go to the auction with Tocino and Ivlenkov, but Baise had approached you and asked to swap places. She said that she was curious about the auction and wanted to see it for herself. It didn't matter much to you either way, so you had agreed, taking her place outside the auction house with Linssen and Basho. It was a simple decision, and one that had saved your life while it condemned hers.

Telling him all that would be far too much.

“You've gone quiet again,” Uvogin said, “you sure we didn't kill someone you cared about?”

“I told you, this is just business for me,” you answered, “I'm surprised you care at all. I would have thought it would be the same for you.”

“Oh, it's business for me as well. But this is a job I do because I enjoy it. If I see something I want, I take it. I don't give a shit about money.

“You'd probably be happier if you didn't care as much about money.”

“Good for you; not everyone can live like that,” you said dryly.

“More people should. It would make things more interesting.”

“I'm sure it would,” you sighed.

“Don't be like that. We'll probably be stuck in here for a while before those idiots come for me, so might as well make the most of it.”

“..... You're not worried about the community getting you.”

“Why should I be?” Uvogin asked, “you saw what happened with the Shadow Beasts, right? If that's the mafia's best, what do I have to be worried about?”

“Might be different when you're in custody,” you said, “they might have someone who can get through that nen shield of yours.”

Uvogin snorted.

“Doubt it. No one can take me down.”

“Except my colleague.”

Uvogin scowled at that and glared at you. You tensed again, readying your nen in case you needed to knock him out, unsure if he would let out another earth-shattering yell or start spitting pieces of human skull at you. With the strength and power he had demonstrated, you were grateful for the drugs Dalzollene had put into him, because the more you looked at that muscled body, the more you were certain that the restraints on their own weren't enough to keep him down.

“Yeah, except for him,” he hissed, “and you. I'd say it was impressive that you two incapacitated me and managed to not die afterwards, but sneak attacks have never done much for me, and they never work twice. Neither of you will catch me off-guard again.”

“I don't think we really need to,” you answered carefully, “you're not really going to be our problem after you're collected.”

He grinned at you again.

“Feel free to believe that.”

There wasn't much you could respond to that with, so you stood there in silence. The community couldn't get here soon enough. This situation was stressing you out more than anything else you had ever been through, and this was only your second day in Yorknew. If the mafia was able to get things under control, there would still be a few more days of the auction that you'd need to participate in for Neon's sake. And that was if the rest of the Phantom Troupe didn't try anything else for the rest of the days.

If the Phantom Troupe was as tight-knit as Uvogin was making them out to be, there was a chance they would come after all of you in retaliation.

Why the hell did you get yourself mixed up in underworld business?

“Oh, that reminds me – I might die before the community comes to get me,” Uvogin said.

“What?”

“That fat bastard from the Shadow Beasts infested me with leech eggs,” he explained, “apparently they're going to hatch inside of me and when they do I'll die. You might want to help me out with that unless your boss wants to hand over my dead body to the mafia.”

“..... I saw you being shot at by an anti-tank cannon. You seriously expect me to believe that you'd be done in by baby leeches?” you asked.

“It's a bit different when something is hatched inside of you,” he said, grinning as he continued “but I guess I can't force you. It's not like it's on me if I die before I can be interrogated.”

There was no doubt it would be bad if he died before he was in community custody, and since you were the only one with him, the blame would probably fall on you.

“How long before they hatch?”

“Who knows.”

The way he said that made it seem like he was lying, and with the way he grinned, it seemed like he knew that you knew and that you couldn't do anything about it. The man's body in the picture frame at the Nostrade mansion came to mind, and if that was what Dalzollene was capable of when it came to a slip-up, who knew what would happen if you failed on this.

Pushing off of the wall, you sighed.

“I can't take out the leeches,” you said.

“But,” you continued before he could say anything else “I can slow down their hatching process.”

Holding out your hand, another flower bloomed in your palm. This time it was a lotus. Just as you had done earlier, you blew on it softly, and the petals fell off and flew towards him, vanishing as they landed on his abdomen.

He watched in silence as the petals vanished before looking back to you.

“You said you were only slowing it down?” he asked.

“Yeah. I usually only use this to slow down a bad wound from bleeding out too much,” you explained, “but it should work for this. However long it'll take for those leeches to hatch, it'll take twice as long now. So if you only had 24 hours, it's now 48. That should be long enough for whatever the community does to you.”

“Hmm. You did something different in the car,” he mused, “what nen type do you have? Conjuration?”

You didn't answer, not wanting to tell him any more about your nen ability.

“So I'm right?”

“.....”

“C'mon, sweetheart. You can't answer that question?”

“I think I've been pretty good about answering your questions,” you said.

“Yeah, and I've got a feeling it's supposed to be the other way around. That boss of yours told you to interrogate me, right? And you can't even do that much,” he sneered.

“I came to the conclusion that trying to ask you anything would be a waste of time,” you snapped back, “you're not going to give me any meaningful answers so why bother talking to you about anything important?”

He seemed amused by your reply.

“Took you a while to finally snap. But how long will that last?”

'Stop responding,' you told yourself. That brief burst of anger that had built up purely because of how annoying he was insisting on being dissipated before he had even finished speaking, and by this point, you had just been ridiculed for far too long.

Uvogin demanded that you speak again, and even though you tensed again at the way he growled that order, this time you refused to say anything. He glared at you, and you readied your nen, preparing to knock him unconscious.

He tsked, but did nothing else, looking bored as he watched the ceiling. You didn't lower your guard, though, still watching for any sort of sign that he would try something.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, waiting for him to make a move.

When he did say something again, you managed to not come off as startled as you were.

“Was it also part of your instructions to be staring at me the whole time?” he asked, “not like I'm going anywhere.”

“I was under the impression that you liked having eyes on you.”

“Sure, I like the eyes of my victims on me before I kill them.”

You couldn't help letting out a little bit of a laugh at the corny threat. His eyes snapped over to you instantly.

“Something funny?”

His voice was low and dangerous, and the more sensible part of you knew that it was smarter to ignore him again. But the petty side of you wanted to see if you could upset him as a miniature vengeance for how the conversation had gone earlier.

“Yeah,” you answered, “I was just thinking that you're pretty lucky that it's me watching you and not one of my colleagues that you killed. She had the ability to make men fall in love with her by just kissing them. If she'd been here, she'd have had you spilling your guts about everything. She also would've had you liking the way you were tied up. Maybe have you begging her to step on you.”

You tilted your head to the side slightly as you smirked.

“That would have been pretty embarrassing for you, but it also would've been pretty funny for the rest of us.”

He didn't say anything.

You expected some sort of response. Maybe some outrage, maybe some threats, maybe even managing to flip your taunt back on you in some way and continuing to dominate the conversation as he had been the whole time. There was definitely anger in the way he looked at you, someone so much weaker than himself mocking him, but he still said nothing, just frowning as he looked back to the ceiling.

That made you more on edge than if he had begun to yell at you.

The air between you two was far more uncomfortable than it had ever been, and you found yourself wishing that the people from the community would show up already.

“You really don't pull off the tough act very well, sweetheart,” Uvogin said.

“But congratulate yourself on managing to piss me off.”

He said nothing more than that, continuing to stare at the ceiling as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Fuck you messed up.

The regret from saying the things you did hit you like a bucket of cold water. Why the hell did you do that?

The sound of the door opening made you jump, forcing you to stand to attention as Dalzollene walked in.

“The people from the community should be here soon,” he told you, “I'll meet with them when they arrive, so you go to the room where the others are.”

Before you could answer, you heard Uvogin scoff behind you.

“Making sure all of your subordinates are gone so you can get the full credit?” he asked, the distaste clear in his voice. He looked over to you, asking “why do you follow a guy like this?”

“You should be worrying about yourself, not her,” Dalzollene snapped.

He motioned for you to leave, which you did. You looked back one last time before the door closed behind you.

Uvogin looked bored again.

Not even five minutes had passed after entering the room with the others when Uvogin's roar echoed through the building, shaking the foundation and making you cover your ears in a feeble attempt to protect your hearing. There was no time to question what had happened; Melody ordered everyone to follow her, and you all did, running down to the express elevator and piling yourselves into the car as you heard walls being smashed behind you. For whatever reason, no one came after you, and you were all able to escape back to the hotel where Neon was staying.

It wasn't hard to figure that Dalzollene had been killed, and now there was no leader and a very angry spider who would be coming after you for revenge.

The events that followed were like a whirlwind for you: Kurapika was voted in as the new leader, Light Nostrade was coming in the next day to take Neon back, and then Kurapika realized that sensitive information regarding the Nostrades and the buildings they owned in Yorknew was available on the Hunter website, and from that, he had determined that Uvogin would find your current location. You'd then needed to move Neon and all of her things into a new room at the same hotel while Kurapika stayed in the top suite to wait for him.

“His focus will be on me,” Kurapika had said, “as long as the rest of you stay in the new room and don't come out, he'll leave you alone.”

You were happy to listen to his instructions and had been ready to wait for him to take care of Uvogin once he arrived.

But then Neon started complaining about something.

Evidently she had lost a cellphone charm, probably in the other room, and was throwing another tantrum until she could get it back. The two women who worked as her servants were, understandably, a bit nervous to go out into the halls while everyone waited for the spider to arrive. So you had volunteered to go for them, making a bit of a show for Neon as you said that you would go get it and for her to wait for you to come back. That had seemed to calm her down, and the one servant, Elisa, whispered a small “thank you” as you left. You weren't stupid enough to go back up to the top suite, however. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in the crossfire. So instead you planned to hang out somewhere on one of the lower floors, and then you'd go back up for Neon once you had gotten confirmation that everything was safe. Hopefully during that time the servants would be able to placate Neon until you got back.

You made your way down a few flights of stairs before picking a random floor where you would wait.

The door opened before you could grab the knob.

Uvogin stood there.

Time seemed to stop as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes widening in surprise as you looked at him in shock. You were completely alone with him, again, and this time there was nothing restraining him.

You were going to die unless you did something now.

It took only a few seconds for your nen to conjure a flower you could use to get out of this situation. But it was a few seconds too long. Before you could bring your hand up Uvogin had grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall in the stairwell, holding you at eye level so you were several feet off the ground. Your hands went up to your neck as you tried to pry his fingers off when he began to squeeze.

“I was wondering if I'd see you again,” he said, “I thought maybe you'd have run away from Yorknew after last night. Good to see that you stuck around.”

Black splotches were starting to appear at the edge of your vision, and you let out a pathetic wheezing sound as you tried to get in a breath.

“Need to breathe already? I guess I can do that if you do something for me first. Blink if you understand.”

The grip around your neck left you unable to concentrate and form something with your nen, so you complied, blinking at him.

“Good. Now, blink once for 'yes', twice for 'no',” he said, “is the chain-user up there?”

You blinked once.

“Good.”

True to his word, his grip on your throat relaxed slightly, and you took in a few desperate gulps of air while he chuckled at you.

“Not so fun when you're the one being held against your will, is it?” Uvogin asked. When you didn't respond, his eyes narrowed and he growled “huh? Didn't I ask you a question?”

“N-no...” you said, finally finding your voice.

“That's what I thought,” he sneered, “before the night is over that chain-user is going to learn a few things, too.”

He looked up at the stairway.

“I'm guessing he's waiting up there for me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “he-he knew you'd be coming, and he wants to f-fight you by himself.”

That blood-thirsty grin appeared on his face and you shuddered.

“That's great. I can't wait to pummel that guy into nothing.”

He looked back to you.

“But what do I do with you? I can't just let you go, can I?”

His grip was becoming tighter again. Your struggles were renewed, clawing as best you could against him and trying to push him away with your feet.

“Wait-!” you began.

“Settle down.”

He pushed himself against you, the arm that held you up now pressing uncomfortably against your chest while the other went down to hold your leg in place against the wall.

“Where'd that sass from earlier go? Or were you acting like that just because you thought you were safe when I was chained up?”

“Wait-!” you tried again.

“Should've taken my deal,” said Uvogin, “then you wouldn't be here, begging for your life like a pathetic wretch.”

“No-!”

“The underworld is a nasty place, sweetheart. You should've realized that before you signed up for this. I gave you a chance and you threw it away. Now you have nobody to blame but yoursel-”

You had continued to struggle, your free legging pushing against him as best you could, and somehow, one of his legs had ended up between yours, and when his thigh had brushed against your clothed cunt, you gasped.

He stopped talking, looking slightly confused until he looked down.

Moments that felt like small eternities passed in silence while you continued to pull at his hand, managing to wrap one hand around his thumb.

Uvogin began to laugh.

“What, you like that?” he asked, pushing himself harder and grinding against you. You couldn't help the way you blushed, and the shame you felt was overwhelming when he continued to laugh at your expense. The noises leaving your mouth didn't help either, and they didn't stop even when you bit down on your lip to try and keep quiet.

“I didn't peg you for a slut, but I guess you learn something new every day,” Uvogin said, clearly enjoying himself as he continued his ministrations.

“Stop! I don't want this!” you yelled.

“Don't lie to me sweetheart. Not when it's written all over your face just how much you enjoy this.”

He grinned at you.

“You mentioned something earlier about me liking being chained up and wanting to be stepped on,” he whispered, “was that you trying to tell me what you wanted to see?”

“No!”

“I can't believe that. It was too specific of a thing to bring up without being into it. You liked seeing me tied up, huh? Do your colleagues know about that? Do they know how much of a desperate slut you are? I wonder....”

He trailed off, then leaned in closer to whisper directly into your ear.

“Do those nasty little kinks of yours go both ways? Would you like it if I chained you up and tossed you around? What else are you into? I'd love to find out.”

Your hands left his one that held your throat, pushing against his face to try and get him away from you. He didn't budge, not even slightly. All you accomplished was him laughing at you again while your pride was slowly torn to pieces.

Without any warning he let you go, and you tumbled to the floor in front of him. You scrambled back into the corner of the stairwell, one hand raised as you prepared to defend yourself. Uvogin remained relaxed, smirking down at your shaking form in the corner.

“Don't bother trying to do anything; I'm not going to let you hit me with that again,” he said, “if anything you should be grateful.”

“.... Grateful?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah, because I'm going to let you live.”

“Huh?”

“Tch. That's all you can say to that?” he scoffed, “be a little more happy; you're not dying tonight.”

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Once I take care of that chain-user, I'll be back for you. I was actually thinking you might be worth leaving alive anyway; I think my boss might like certain aspects of your abilities. And once he's taken them, I'm sure he won't care if I keep you for myself afterwards.”

You were lost for words and could only shake your head at him.

“I told you earlier,” he said, “the underworld is a nasty place; you've got no one but yourself to blame.”

Finally, finally, he turned and began to make his way up the stairs, leaving you in that corner while you tried to process what just happened and the things he had said. You wanted to run, to at least get out of that stairwell and into a space that felt safer, but until Uvogin was further up those stairs and far away from you, you stayed still.

He paused when he began up the second flight of stairs, looking back to you and speaking your name in a way that made you tense again.

“You can try to run if you want,” he said, his tone more serious and seeming much more collected, “but if you try that, I will find you. And things will be much, much worse for you if you run away, you can count on that.”

He grinned, and somehow this one seemed deadlier than any other you had seen thus far.

“I'll be seeing you.”

And with that, Uvogin continued to make his way up the stairs and to the top suite where Kurapika waited. You heard his footsteps echoing against the metal of the stairs, getting softer as he went further and further up, but you still didn't move. Only when you could barely hear him on the stairs did you finally get up.

Bursting through the door, you all but scrambled to get to somewhere safe. You were a mess, your thoughts all over the place and emotions running wild, and all you could do was pray to whatever God might be listening that Kurapika would be able to dispose of that man.

In his state of zetsu, Shalnark standing behind a corner went unnoticed by you as you ran off. Had he not been listening to your conversation with Uvogin, he would have killed you right there. But instead, he smiled to himself, waiting until you were out of the way completely before entering the stairway himself and continuing to follow Uvogin as he had been all afternoon.

Kurapika didn't come back.

The late night had transformed into morning, and he didn't come back.

The immediate thought shared by the group was that he was dead, and the second one was that Uvogin was going to be coming back for the rest of you.

Basho and Melody were the ones doing best at keeping level heads and trying to keep the group calm. Just because Kurapika isn't back yet doesn't mean he's dead, Melody had told all of you. He'll be back, she assured you.

God you wished you could believe that.

It had been determined that you all should wait until Light Nostrade made it in, then he and Neon would leave with a few of the bodyguards while the rest moved to a different building to continue with the auction. At this point, bidding in an auction was one of the last things you wanted to do, but you had a bad feeling that you wouldn't be one of the lucky bodyguards that would be leaving with the Nostrades.

Uvogin's words repeated themselves in your mind, and every time his name was mentioned you couldn't help the way you shuddered. No one seemed to notice that, however.

Except Melody.

She caught you in the late afternoon when you were alone and asked what was troubling you, citing how rapidly your heart would beat when Uvogin's name was mentioned.

The emotions that you'd been trying to bottle up overflowed and you broke down, full-on crying in front of her as you told her everything. From the time with him in that room to when he'd caught you in the stairwell, you told her every little thing he had said to you, every threat he had made and just how terrified you were of him coming back to get you like he said he would.

Melody had been horrified at your confession, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you felt genuine compassion from another human being. She held you and rubbed your back in a soothing motion as you sobbed into her.

“He won't get you, I promise,” she said, “everything will be okay. But I'll make sure that you go back with the boss tonight, alright?”

You didn't answer. You just tried your best to calm yourself, wiping away your tears while sobs still hiccuped from your throat.

“Maybe some fresh air would do you some good. Basho was complaining that there weren't any good snacks in the building. How about you run down to the store and grab some things for everyone?” Melody suggested.

“Should.. Should I really leave? Right now?” you asked.

“I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just a quick run to the store, right?”

“.... Okay.”

Grabbing a hoodie on your way out, you pulled up the hood and kept your face down, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. It felt strange to run such an errand during a time like this, but maybe Melody was right and it would be good for you. And maybe by the time you came back, Kurapika would have returned.

With two plastic bags full of junk food and a few drinks, you had exited the convenience store at the corner, the bell on the door ringing as you stepped outside. There had been a bit of a line behind you so when you were given the change from the cashier, you had hastily thrown it into one of the bags as you were eager to keep the line moving. After leaving the store, you stepped to the side of the building, your back facing the street as you began to dig through the bag you had thrown the change into. It wasn't like it was even that much, but you didn't like the idea of just leaving it in there with everything else.

As your sole focus was on reaching around inside of that bag for the change that had made its way to the very bottom, you didn't notice the large group of people that had come up and were passing by you.

Not until you heard a familiarly deep, boisterous voice that made you freeze.

He was talking to someone, saying something about still being mad that they had followed him. A different voice responded saying that it was a good thing they had done that. There was an answer from him, but you couldn't hear it very well with the way your heart was beating in your ears.

The voices were getting further away now. You tentatively peeked out from under your hood to see if it really was who you thought it was.

Even from behind, there was no mistaking Uvogin in a crowd.

He walked with a group that you recognized some of as being the other spiders that were there with him on the night of the auction attack. Others you didn't recognize, but if they were traveling together, they must have also been part of the troupe. At the head of the group was what looked like a man in a long black coat, seemingly leading the group.

Right in the direction of the Nostrade's hotel.

You swore that your heart was beating so loud they all should have heard it and then you would have been at their mercy. But they continued walking, not paying attention to anyone else around them. Realizing that you hadn't taken a breath since you had heard Uvogin's voice, you let out a soft, shuddery breath as they walked further and further away. They were still close enough for you to see clearly when Uvogin gave a playful slap on the back to the samurai in purple robes, who stumbled forward slightly and began to curse out the taller man.

When he had pushed him forward, you noticed a small piece of folded paper that slipped out of his robes.

The group turned a corner, and only when you couldn't see any of them anymore and you could no longer hear any of their voices did you move, slowly walking forward down the sidewalk, constantly checking to make sure none of them came back as you went for that slip of paper.

Your hands were trembling as you picked it up. Why you were concerning yourself with something they had dropped you didn't know. There were more important things, like getting back to the hotel before them and warning the others, but your brain was in a horribly familiar panic-mode and you weren't thinking straight.

Unfolding the paper, you found a set of pictures – headshots of the Nostrade family bodyguards. Dalzollene's picture had been crossed out, but Basho's, Squala's and everyone else was featured.

But what truly sent you into a panic were the two pictures that had been circled in pen.

One was of Neon.

The other was you.

All you could hear for a bit was your own harsh breathing, unable to focus on anything else while you looked at that bit of paper.

He was doing as he had promised. Uvogin and those others were going back to that building and they were going to kill everyone and then take you.

The remaining time you had to warn the others was slipping away and you stood petrified as you tried to figure out what you could do.

You couldn't fight them.

None of you could. The only one capable of that was Kurapika, and if Uvogin was still walking around, then he had to be dead.

You couldn't fight them.

The paper and the convenience store bags you had been holding fell to the ground as you bolted off in the opposite direction. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you until you were out of breath and aching all over. And even then you continued running. Uvogin's words, the things he did and the way he looked at you were still fresh in your mind. You couldn't face that; you knew you wouldn't win and you just needed to do whatever you could to get away from him.

Even if it meant only saving yourself.

Your kept running, sometimes bumping into people or cars, ignoring them as they yelled at you so you could keep going.

When you were thoroughly exhausted and ready to fall over, you made it to the airport, taking a few seconds to stop and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you were ready to heave out your lungs. One of the airships would have to be departing soon. Buying a ticket wasn't an option; you'd need to go with a riskier route.

You jumped the fence into the airfield and were stopped almost immediately by a security guard.

“I don't know what you're thinking,” he yelled at you, “but you'd better be ready to-”

You focused your nen and a hyacinth formed, and you blew at the petals in the direction of the guard. When the petals hit him, he stopped his rant and his gaze turned blank as he stared at you.

“Let me on to the next departing airship,” you ordered.

“Yes miss.”

He moved robotically, leading you to an airship at the end of the field. Luckily nobody else approached you two. When you controlled someone with this ability, you could only give them three simple orders, and you could only use it on only a few people during a short period of time, and you didn't want to waste any of it using the guard to keep people off your back.

When you reached the airship, you told him “go ask the stewards to meet me at the entrance. And when you're done with that, I want you to go back to your station.”

“Yes miss.”

Once your last order was completed, he would be out of your control and would have no memory of you or anything that happened.

After ordering the stewards to take you to an empty cabin and to not let anyone enter during the flight, you let them go, slumping down in the window side seat after you had locked the door. The airship was taking off, and soon you'd be away from this nightmare.

The others wouldn't, though.

The reality of the situation struck you then, that you really had just run off and left them to fend for themselves. Unless some miracle happened, they were going to die. Melody didn't deserve that. Neither did Squala. Or Basho, or any of the others working for the Nostrades. Neon was a brat and she had proven that she didn't care for you or anyone else who worked for her, but that really wasn't her fault. And even if it was, it didn't mean that she should suffer for it. Not like that.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around your knees as you curled up into your seat, cursing yourself for your cowardice and for just how pathetic you were as the airship lifted you higher.

The story you read months later was that of a mystery disappearance of multiple people in the hotel owned by the Nostrades. The bodyguards and employees had all vanished, leaving behind hotel rooms filled with signs of violence, but no sort of blood or bodies in sight. The only one left was a thoroughly traumatized Neon who could barely speak and was unable to offer any explanation as to what had happened. Not even her father was able to get her to speak. Nor could he get her to use her ability, and without his daughter's fortune telling, he lost that place he had carved for himself in the mafia community and quickly fell from grace.

The articles in magazines and newspapers focused more on that aspect of the story, of the millionaire who fell from his high social standing. No one seemed to care much about the people that had vanished. Very few articles mentioned the bodyguards, and fewer still bothered to name any of them. Your name had been listed in one of those articles as one of those who were missing, but what had made you sick was reading the names of the others and knowing that they weren't missing, but that they were dead.

'This was what you chose,' you told yourself bitterly. Instead of trying to take on the troupe in an effort to save them, you ran away like a coward. Though it wasn't like anything would have changed if you had confronted them, but maybe if you had, you wouldn't need to live with the guilt of knowing that you did nothing to try and help.

You were just too weak.

The world of the hunters, that thing that you had worked towards for so long, having gone through that exam so many times and coming so close to death every time you did, was no longer something you wanted to be apart of. The dream that you had of everything being alright in your life if you could just get that license was shattered after learning about nen. Even with that treasured license, you were still so horribly insignificant in this world, and the power that you held was ultimately meaningless in the long run.

After that eye-opening experience, and after everything you had been through in Yorknew, all you wanted was to go back to a normal life.

You sold your license and made a new home for yourself on the other side of the world, far away from Yorknew and anything remotely to do with the mafia community. You lived in a humble apartment and worked a decent job while you lived life with your head facing down, staying under the radar as best you could. Just existing with yourself as best you could.

Not a day went by that you didn't think about the people you had abandoned, or the words Uvogin had said to you on the stairs. That he would find you if you ran, and that the consequences would be worse for you if you did that. Months had gone by since that day, but your anxiety didn't allow you to relax in the slightest; he had been confident in his words, and after everything you had seen, you were certain that he wouldn't give up on finding you that easily.

Time had continued, and you were coming up on almost a year since the incidents in Yorknew. Returning late to your apartment after your shift, you were struggling to keep yourself awake as you slipped the key into the front door lock. You were ready to pass out as you entered, turning as you shut the door behind yourself. Had you been a bit more alert, you might have noticed the light that was on within your apartment that shouldn't have been on, or the shadow that loomed behind you the second you turned your back to lock the door.

What you did notice were the two strong arms that wrapped around your form and pulled you against a solid chest, and the breath that tickled against your ear as a terribly familiar voice whispered to you, putting you on full alert as you realized who held you.

“Gotcha.”

And like that, your time of living in hiding came to an end.

#yandere hunter x hunter #Uvogin #hxh uvogin #uvo x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #yandere x reader #kurapika #melody hxh #dalzollene #reader insert

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krxideprnz-archive · 4 years ago

Note

I feel a big amount of guilt from asking this but can i request a Sub!Toji x Dom!Reader where Toji’s legs and arms are cuffed to the bed, he is blindfolded and we are basically trying out different toys on him and edging him every time he is about to cum, then pegging the shit out of him and overstimulating him 😍 I feel like this is too complicated so if you dont want you you dont have to do it

Hey hun 🥰 thank you for requesting! I love me some good old Toji smut ✨ and a big apology, I didn’t really mention the blindfold 😭 I hope it’s still alright-

Sub! Toji x Dom! Reader

This includes content not suited for minors

Includes - orgasm denial/pegging/use of toys/petnames

Muscular arms and legs were chained to the bed, completely restricting the man under you from moving the way he wanted to, watching you hover above his naked body.

Toji wasn’t exactly the man who gave up control easily, but something about you- the way you spoke and behaved, the way you looked at him-

He was completely wrapped around your finger.

You ordered him to lay on the bed?

He did it.

You told him to strip for you?

He didn’t hesitate.

Even though he growled and protested when you chained him to the bed, you could see him grow with arousal, a faint blush coating his cheeks when he caught you smirking at his current predicament.

“So, honey, let’s get to the point, shall we?” you addressed the elephant in the room, gesturing to a big box placed next to Toji’s body on the bed, but the man underneath you didn’t answer, he only kept staring at you with his resting frown. “Answer me when I’m talking to you, fucking brat” you spat squeezing the sensitive flesh of his nipples as to further prove your point.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the stinging sensation before answering “Yes- fuck just do it!” He hissed and you let go of him, instead directing your attention to the box.

“I bought some things I want to try out on you, Toji~ I’m sure this is gonna be fun for the both of us” you licked your lips and grabbed the first item, a item he was kind of familiar with from his earlier days, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

In your hand was a realistic looking fleshlight that you hovered in front of his face. A grin was etched on your features as you observed his expression and how he couldn’t seem to look you in your eyes.

“Let’s start with this” you decided and grabbed his dick to guide it inside of the toy, engulfing the entirety of his length with it.

With your hand wrapped around the fleshlight, you moved it up and down his dick, the intricate walls of the toy dragging and squeezing around him.

“Hngh-“ he swallowed hard at the pleasuring stimulation on his length, tightly squeezing his eyes shut. Your other hand caressed his lower abdomen, tracing and feeling his muscles move under your touch.

Your other hand squeezed the toy tighter around him, altering between the pressure to draw the most sounds out of him.

His limbs struggled against the restraints as he let out a strained groan- he was close.

You could see the way his breathing got heavier, mouth hanging open to let out his pleasured sighs.

Stopping your movements completely, you quickly removed the fleshlight and watched Toji’s face contort in frustration.

“C-come on! I was so close- ngh!“ his sentence was interrupted by you pressing a wet kiss to his leaking tip. “We haven’t tried all the toys yet~ you’ll have to be patient” you spoke, warm breath fanning over his erection.

Tossing the toy aside, you grabbed the next item from the box- a bright pink vibrator.

“I think you’ll like this one..” you pressed it to his nipples as you turned it on, stimulating the sensitive buds. “Last time you came so fast when we used this” you sighed, running the vibrator further down his chest before coming to a halt right before his aching length.

“shut up” he mumbled, looking at the wall next to the bed in embarrassment.

“Behave, or I won’t let you cum at all, whore” his cock twitched at your harsh words, and you pressed the vibrator to the base of his dick.

“M-mhh! Fuck..”

You moved down to lick and press wet kisses to his red tip, while you kept the vibrator moving on the base of his length.

Licking a long stripe on the underside of his dick you savored his blissful moans and his desperate thrashing against the bed.

He’d give anything to tangle his hands in your hair and push you down until you were taking him completely- oh but he couldn’t- and it was driving him insane.

“P-please- f-fuck! ah!” You sucked on his tip before releasing him from your mouth and moving the toy away.

You laughed at his needy whines and curses. “What did I tell you, Toji? Patience~”

His breathing started to normalize, his cock still leaking with precum, red and desperate to be touched.

The next toy you picked was a dildo, along with a tube of lube to prepare him for the unfamiliar sensation.

“Fuck no” he hissed, watching you snap the bottle open and put a generous amount of lube on your fingertips.

“Fuck yes” you spoke with a smile, pressing your digits against his hole. His hips involuntary bucked against your hands, pressing your fingers deeper inside of him.

Toji could feel your fingers bend inside of him, stretching him out diligently.

“A-ah! Shit-“ his head fell back, hands clenching around nothing, desperately trying to keep his moans in check. But it was no use when you removed your fingers, his walls clenching around nothing as he let out a needy whine.

“Shhh, honey. I’m gonna take care of you” you kissed the inside of his thighs, leaving some red marks to remind him of this night the next few days.

Pressing the toy to his hole, you carefully pushed it in, stretching him out even further than before.

“W-wait! Fuck- ngh!” His back arched of the matress, angling the toy to a sensitive spot inside of him. You started to move the dildo slowly, aiming for the spot that made him cry out in bliss.

Each drag along his walls forced a moan out of his throat, you kept on hitting that one spot inside of him- that one spot that made him see stars- and he couldn’t get enough of it.

The pleasure was clouding his mind, he was loosing himself in the new sensation, giving up control and letting you pleasure him the way you wanted.

“(Y/N)...! Now- no! p-please!” He cried out as yet another orgasm was denied, leaving him hanging once again. He felt like he was going to cry out of sheer frustration any second now.

“This is gonna be the last one, Kay?” You pressed a kiss to his lips, wich he hungrily met, tongues tangling and swallowing each other’s groans and sighs.

“I’m getting desperate to see you loose yourself too..” you whispered against his lips and sat back to grab the last item- a strap on.

Watching you step into it and sauntering back to the bed felt like time was moving in slow motion to him- anticipation bubbled in his chest as he was unable to hold his whines in any longer.

“-need you.. now!” You removed his restraints and ordered him to roll over on the bed on all fours. Like the obedient man he was, he did without asking, nice and ready for you to take him.

You steadied yourself behind him, teasing the tip of the toy against his puffy entrance before entering him.

“A-ah!!” His eyes watered and his face pushed into the pillow underneath him to muffle his cries.

Starting to move inside of him, you heard the headboard bang against the wall with each hard thrust, only adding to the lewdness of the obscene moans and cries he let out.

You grabbed his hair to yank his head up. “Let me hear how good I’m fucking that tight ass of yours!” your thrusts became increasingly faster, still aiming for his sensitive prostate.

The way you were manhandling him turned him on even more, moans spilling from his lips continuously.

His juices dripped onto the sheets, forming a wet spot under his trembling body. Every touch of your hands on his skin felt like fire, every noise you let out sent a shiver down his spine.

He was truly drowning in pure bliss, and his incoherent cries of your name told you as much.

Your continued thrusts made him clench around the toy as he let out a breathy moan, hips moving in rhythm with yours to match your movements. Every time you hit his prostate it brought him closer to his climax, his fists were clenching the sheets.

“Fu-cking- close! gah-!” Drool was pooling in his mouth, fighting back the urge to cum right then and there.

“Since you’ve been good, I’ll allow you. Cum like the needy whore you are, Toji!” you yanked his head up once more as a breathless cry escaped his lips.

“A-ah! Shit! Shit! (Y/N)-“ ropes of cum hit the bedsheets under Toji’s shaking body as you fucked him through his high before his body collapsed onto the bed.

You pulled out of his puffy hole, moving to gather the used toys to properly clean them and prepare a warm bath for Toji’s tired body.

In the other room, the man was still coming down from his intense climax, in disbelief how much he enjoyed you taking control.

As he heard you humming next door, he covered his eyes with his arms.

The things you did to him...

#jujutsu kaisen smut #dom!reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #smut

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nervousladytraveler · 3 years ago

Text

A little bit of "Duty"

for those who still remember this fic (I swear I shall return to it soon...)

----

“It's so quiet here,” Demelza whispered, aware her own words might disrupt the scene.

They were walking along one of the many winding paths far beyond the precisely tended gardens surrounding the main house. Whether the meandering way had been laid with purpose or had merely followed the contours of the land, it had long been overgrown; once loved too, these paths clearly had been abandoned by the current residents who preferred man-made artifice and order to the quirks of nature.

Somewhere a lone bird cawed. Neither Ross nor Demelza saw it but they could imagine its black feathers stark against the snow covered fields.

“I’ve never walked with you in daylight before,” Ross said.

“You’ve never walked with me at all,” she laughed. “Nor seen me ever in daylight, not really anyway.” This accounting of nevers was becoming a recurring joke between them.

“I suppose you’re right.” He smiled at her playful tone. No offense taken--she took everything in stride. “Well, I like it and I intend to do it as often as I can.”

Yes, a war with its restrictions and blackouts was an odd time to have an affair. Or maybe, as Demelza had said before, it was exactly the right time. A time to grab for anyone or anything that made one feel alive. No time for restraint--just subsisting on animal instinct.

“We should head back,” Demelza said wistfully.

“We have fifteen minutes until the meeting reconvenes,” Ross said looking at his wrist watch. Defiantly he stopped to light a cigarette.

“And it will take us ten minutes to retrace our steps back to the house,” she laughed again. Her breath, visible in the frosty air, matched his exhalation of smoke.

“Ah Miss Carne, you remain the voice of reason as always.” He narrowed his eyes as if scrutinising her, then pulled her close for a kiss. At first she looked over her shoulder, a nervous habit she’d held on to, even though only moments before they’d acknowledged they were alone. Then she gave in, putting her mitted hand to his cheek and her lips to his.

He dropped the cigarette and clutched her to him, his right hand on her head, his left hand on the small of her back. He felt he could devour her right then and there.

After a moment she pulled back with a sigh and adjusted her hat, then slipped her hand in his.

“I’m afraid our lips will freeze together,” she said softly.

He understood. From her kiss he knew her desire matched his but it would do them no good to get worked up now. Not when they'd have to sit side by side in that crowded drawing room while those stodgy old men--and Lady Whitworth--pontificated and planned for hours on end. He’d have to keep his eyes and his mental focus on the meeting. He wouldn't even be able to touch her leg under the table and could only steal a few judicious glances at her lips, her breasts, her eyes. He expected the experience would be excruciating.

“Are you cold?” he asked and without waiting for an answer wrapped his cashmere muffler around her neck.

He thought she looked a bit like a bird today. She wore a brown wool coat and brown tweed trousers, but then there were those hints of colour--red hair, red beret, red knit mittens, his yellow muffler. Lovely against the winterscape around them, she was a natural being in her element.

There didn't seem to be any colour in London anymore. Inside was a sea of khaki uniforms and brown file cabinets, beige walls and blank expressions. Outside was another sort of greyscale--fog during the day and blackened entirely at night.

Demelza was different. She was the only brilliance cutting through the mandatory drabness imposed on his world.

Just then she tried to disguise a shiver by bending over to pick up his cigarette. It was still lit but just barely. He took a drag from it in admiration of her thrift.

“Cold?” she repeated. “No, I’m fine.”

He knew her well enough already to know that’s exactly what she’d say no matter what she truly felt. Would she ever really ask him for help or was she determined to remain so damn self reliant? He smiled and thought about how he’d grown to love her stubbornness. A trait that could be useful in one’s survival--or could lead to one’s destruction.

“What are you thinking, Ross?” she asked. She noticed he’d retreated into his thoughts and cautiously called him back. But before he’d a chance to speak, she gasped and squeezed his hand tightly. “Ross! What...is that a…?”

“Good god!” He paused and clutched both her arms, unsure if they should rush towards the scene one hundred yards before them or run as far and as fast as they could.

Even though it was a twisted pile of metal, in chunks and pieces from its impact, the largely intact propellers were unmistakable. A Henschel Hs 126, by Ross’s guess. For reconnaissance purposes, not carrying any bomb load but perhaps accompanying a larger plane that had been.

There were no remaining traces of smoke and much of the debris was now covered in the snow that had fallen overnight, suggesting the crash happened some time ago. Last night? Surely they would have heard it, seen the flash, even felt the impact. Last week? Surely someone would have said something about it--or removed the evidence if it was meant to be a secret.

No matter how Ross looked at it, he didn't like it. It reminded him that just because they were out of London, they weren’t free from danger. Not here at Wendover. Not anywhere.

And as if she read his thoughts, she answered him.

“No, Ross. We never were safe. Not even before the war,” she said.

“Yes,” he said and wished it weren’t true.

“That’s why it’s important to savour the moments we’re alive and well, and with each other,” she went on, oddly confident in her insight for someone so young. Young perhaps, but not untested. “That’s why now is important.”

That’s why love is so important.

#poldark fanfic #lucretiassister #poldark modern au #ross poldark #demelza carne #wip wednesday #duty

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trevor-wilson-covington · 4 years ago

Text

What could have been...

//Saw that the site I use to make mood boards has a CD Cover option and thought it would be fun to do Sunset Curve’s Demo and Unreleased Songs (+Home Is Where My Horse Is) as they would look as singles!!! I may make CD Covers for the other 13 songs in the show...if people end up really liking these ones and if inspiration strikes!

**Gave an idea of what I think the other 7 songs would be about/why they were written (said what we know Unsaid Emily, Now or Never, and Home Is Where My Horse Is are about already of course too)!!

1. Unsaid Emily: Is of course about Luke’s rough relationship with his mom, which was never resolved before his death. It touches on how he knew he should have turned around and come back home but his pride stopped him. All the conversations he had created in his head about what they would say to each other when he finally saw her again stayed that way, thoughts in his head. Wondering if he had been able to say the right things to his mom or made up with her before dying, would time not have erased the memory of him?

2. Get Lost: I believe it is about the feeling of restlessness and wanting to just take off on an adventure somewhere new or unique. Similar to how Luke finds sleeves (zleeves) restricting, this song is about how life can feel suffocating sometimes and all you want to do is grab a bag of essentials and walk in the mist/ride off into the night to a freer life.

3. Long Weekend: Is about the band’s friendship/brotherhood/sense of found family and how over many weekends they find themselves going through a lot of struggles and heartache together. These are the weekends that feel the longest because there is so much the four boys help each other through and many times they find they don’t want the weekend to end so they can spend more non-band time together to just be four stupid teen boys navigating all the twists and turns of life.

4. Crooked Teeth: My thoughts are that it could have been written when he had braces/a retainer in the 90s & was self-conscious of it, so it was written to cheer Reggie up about his braces/retainer & pretty much say "hey, Reggie...people's smiles vary & they're all unique & beautiful"...instead of mocking him, like the show seems to tell us it was written to do.

5. My Name Is Luke: Is a darker, more introspective song about Luke’s struggle with an identity crisis where he feels he’s being pulled in different directions. One side is the Luke who loves his parents and wants to make them happy and have them be proud of him. The other side is the Luke. who is passionate about writing and playing music, who thrives off the feelings and energies of the crowd as they connect with him and his lyrics. Luke finds he can’t be one version of Luke without ultimately giving up the other and trying to do both is exhausting and soul crushing at times. The title is his way of saying ‘Hey, this is my name, it’s who I am, and I can be a loving son my parents can be proud of while also doing what I love and making a difference in the lives of people who listen to my music’. He just wishes his parents could come to understand that he loves music and he’s really good at it, so why can’t he continue doing it and make them proud at the same time.

6. Now or Never: Is, as we know, about Sunset Curve’s rise to fame and how they can dream as though they’ll never die but they’re going to live their life as though today could be their last day alive. They aren’t looking to the future, because all they need are each other and the energy that is coursing through their bodies in the present. They hear a voice in their heads saying you only have this one life, so make the most of it so when you die you’ll have had no regrets about the things you did or didn’t do. This is their time to shine and even when their lives were bleak or lacking, their days were still the best of their lives because they were making music and gradually making a name for themselves doing so.

Weaved in are of course lyrics that seem to foreshadow their 3 deaths with the mention of shock to their hearts (the defibrillators used to try to keep them alive in the alley or ambulance), clocks moving forward but they don’t get older (how for 25 yrs they were in limbo and didn’t age and are now 17-year-old ghosts in 2020), how they kept on climbing 'til their stars collided (floated up out of the ambulance to the dark place until crashing into Julie’s life (she’s a star as Luke says)), and how all that they left in the past was just the just the key to paradise (all the things they left behind once they died were just ‘stepping stones’ to the ‘paradise’ of heaven for most people or in the boy’s case the path to Julie and playing music again).

7. Late Last Night: Is about the late nights the four boys spent out at clubs/venues leading up to the Orpheum, gigs that helped them gain a decent following, and all the crazy things they saw and did. 17-year-olds out late partying, possibly drinking, on school nights. A higher energy song, similar to Now or Never to match the antics of a bunch of teens practically let loose on the music/club scene during the band’s rise in the Hollywood/LA music scene in ‘93/’94/’95. It evokes the feelings of being wild and reckless as a teen, while also somehow capturing the energy of the nighttime as you move from the crowded main strip into residential areas and how quick and jarring the change can be.

8. Lakeside Reflection: This is a tough one, but I think it would be about the individual experiences most or all of the boys have from going to lakes during summer with their families. There’s of course all the fun time spent with family, but in the reflection on the lake of those moments the boys only see the truth of their family dynamics, what was hidden behind a pleasant façade.

For Luke, it was the strained relationship and fights with his mom over the band and his dreams.

For Alex, it was the looks and offhanded comments made by his parents and the looks of sympathy from his sister, ever since he told them he was gay.

For Reggie, it was the nights spent keeping his brother and sister distracted as the walls practically shook from the volume and intensity of his parents’ almost daily fights.

And for Bobby, it was the truth that he kept up a façade even with the boys so they wouldn’t know that his family, that the others always believed to be perfect, wasn’t perfect at all. When rarely he saw his parents and they weren’t off on business trips or working late into the night, Bobby found them to be disinterested in his life and any affection or love was relegated to a pat on the back or a quick hand held before they rushed out the door once more.

The happy summer vibes at the lake could never truly make any of the boys forget their truths, but at least they could let loose for the extent of their trips and finally feel like a carefree teen again.

9. In Your Starlight: This would seem to be a certain kind of love song at first glance and for some people that’s what it may be, but to me it is a very specific kind of love song. This love song is about relationships each of the boys had, the very few of them, that didn’t turn out well for some reason or another. A passion for music overshadowing the passion to keep a relationship going. The fear of long-term commitment and a short-lived bliss, before the fighting starts, ending the relationship before it ever grew deeper. The smothering of a fire in the soul so outsiders can’t see one trace of its flicker, hidden behind a lie, in case they find out the truth and react with disgust or hatred. Or the overly flirtatious and, at times, clingy antics used to get a person interested in starting a relationship. To keep them invested in the relationship, in an effort to make sure they won’t leave out of boredom or for someone better. This song is from the perspective of those other people, how they saw the relationship, no matter the length, and what they see as the thing that ended it or kept it from growing stronger. How they all in some way felt like they were pulled in by light of each of the boys (the stars) and things were good at first, before the cracks started to appear and reality truly set in.

10. Home Is Where My Horse Is: It’s an expression of where and whom Reggie calls home. The horse had never really stood for an actual horse, but rather it represented Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The people Reggie considered his family, his home, more than he ever would the house he had grown up in. Horses symbolize freedom without restraint, because riding a horse makes people feel they can free themselves from their own bindings. There is no constraining a horse when it runs with the wind, but they also enjoy the company of family and friends. Reggie wants freedom from the stuff with his parents and his own personal demons that keep him held back. He finds with the band, his real family, he can run free and be himself...enjoying being around the boys and not having to worry about fighting and drama. His home is where he (the horse) is... able to be its true self and go where the wind takes it.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #sunset curve #jatp fanart #jatp meta sort of #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #bobby wilson

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whumpersdump · 3 years ago

Text

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

Taglist (asks are open if you wanna be added or removed): @suspicious-whumping-egg

#whump #pet whump #non-con surgery tw #lab whump #Project Rebirth #Toby is next up #After that the 'creepy whumper' aspect is really going to start rolling #Also I should mention that 'pets' aren't just used as pets in this universe #Toby for example is a genuine lab assistant. Whumper doesn't care about pet beds and the like #There is a power dynamic and he longs to keep it in place. Period.#Doesn't mean he won't play the part though

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swimfuel · 3 years ago

Note

Hey!! The X-men are literally my favorite thing and I was wondering if you could elaborate on how Scott is a knight of doom

YES OF COURSE!!!! i'll put it under a cut since i tend to ramble a bit & i'm pulling a bunch of explanations from people smarter than i am

the knight weaponizes their aspect; they have an inherent understanding of their aspect that allows them to exploit it completely. doom is the aspect of systems, restrictions/limitations, sacrifices, and endings.

one of scott's core themes is reclaiming his restrictions in order to serve others/the greater good! he takes the possible liability that are his faulty powers and shifts them to become an advantage, largely through the strength of his restraint and discipline. his role as a tactician and the way he sees sacrifices (more on that later) also mesh EXTREMELY well with the knight of doom.

i feel like the Wh*don run (specifically astonishing x-men #22-23) really highlights how scott can turn a situation on its head through exploiting his disadvantages to the point where they become tactically advantageous!! like, let's count the ways:

the ship the x-men stole from kruun is obviously bugged, so his team won't be able to communicate without being overheard. he realizes this, and uses that restriction (being overheard) as an advantage, by falsifying their course of action.

he has been left "without his powers"—he presents a restriction that lowers the guard of his adversary and grants him entry to their home base. he then subverts this by exploding the shit out of everything when an opportune moment arrives

HE LITERALLY EXPLOITS DEATH...... HE EXPLOITS HIS OWN DEATH...................FOR THE GREATER GOOD..........DUDE???? someone get this man an advil

some more thoughts, followed by some examples by people smarter than me:

he exhibits a similar pattern of idolization/realization with xavier irt karkat/HICand dave/bro.... not sure if this by itself is a knight-y thing but i think the consistent disillusionment with their role in defending their aspect is interesting (aka knight burnout, more on that later)

he is def willing to sacrifice shit for the greater good of mutantkind. the shit in question sometimes being his closest friends and allies. the examples that stick out to me are how he allowed beast to get tortured (utopia era) while executing his plan to solve All His Problems At Once & also when he sent x-force to the future to defend hope knowing it was going to be a one-way trip

that entire issue revolving around just how GOOD scott is at self-repression😭😭😭 i'm pretty sure it's post-schism utopia era i don't remember the exact issue WAIT NVM i'm pretty sure it's uncanny #518

seeing phoenix!scott as an inversion to (rogue of) life is also an interesting concept (unchecked growth!)

the amount of responsibility he feels he has to take on (partially due to his idolization cycle w xavier/xavier's dream) is also both knight-y and doom-y

and of course the instinct to protect the people around him --> being expanded into the whole of mutantkind (which, in turn, expands his sense of obligation)

everything leading up to revolutionary cyclops is also very interesting through this framework because its reminiscent of the knights & doom players in hs! the "taking on an insane burden" (phoenix force, whatever whammied mituna) -> the "resignation to the fate handed to him by his aspect" (his stint in prison, dead daves, sollux in general) -> the "refusal to accept that fate" (prison break, dave not wanting to use time travel, sollux fucking off into the dreambubbles, karkat coming to terms w his relationship w leadership) --> experiencing knight burnout at the end of revolutionary era going into death of x

im not sure exactly how to put it into words but everything about his childhood/teenhood... like being surrounded by forces seeking to control him and use him for their own ends..... idk

(from @/land-of-classpects-and-analysis, sections highlighted red are of particular interest)

HIS GIANT STINKING MARTYR COMPLEX.....DUDE😭😭

side note & ive mentioned this before but scottjean is an interesting parallel to davejade in a way i cant verbalize

Then there are the ones who may accept [the fact of inevitable human suffering], and so choose to live in high alert of any danger - any threats - as well as living in fear of what harm may befall them and/or their loved ones. It is this third and final group of people that so deeply marks that of the Knight of Doom.

Now, this might cause a few eyebrows to become quirked. After all, a Knight? Being fearful of something - nevertheless that thing being related to their Aspect? Knights do often present themselves as ruthless and fearless warriors, yes, but that is only because their Aspects and the world around them raised and called them to act as such.

... A key factor in the Knight’s life, specifically before their journey truly begins, is that they are already well equipped with their Aspect.

... The Knight of Doom is one where their Aspect being all around them is far more bittersweet than anything else.

... What is important to acknowledge is that the facade the Knight of Doom puts up is not only to hide the fear they have for their Aspect, but it is most definitely there to hide the grief and pain they have not yet completely finished going through. Whether it’s been weeks or years, the Knight of Doom is someone who would rather hide themself away from these feelings than find a way to truly mend and heal them ... they have built a false wall between them and their suffering strong and thick enough to partially block it from their memory.

... Knights are known to become extremely stubborn whenever people try to order them around and pressure them into doing something, and the Knight of Doom is no different - especially if they believe what they are doing is for the greater good.

(from @/dahniwitchoflight)

Dahni’s Explanantion: “Doom can be a negative force that rejects and harms, fostering a sense of hostility or sadness. But, it is also the idea that you can pull backwards and cautiously and wisely withdraw into your own self. It can be the idea of Control taken from the sharp Black and White Restrictions that everything in the world gets sorted into. It understands community necessity and need, responsibly pulling back and lowering you down into its lap to help wind yourself down. Doom then is an ultimate gentle Equalizer, instilling its players with an internal sense of Acceptance and eventually true Wisdom.”

Knight of Doom: One who Exploits with Doom or Exploits Doom

Knights hide a fear of a perceived fundamental failure with their Aspect behind a shield of confidence and obsessive effort. Their challenge is to learn to take it down a notch and to understand that they are skilled enough

A Knight is very skilled with using the rules and limitations of any game or session to their advantage. They skillfully fulfill any responsibility or obligation required of them with ease. They might use their natural caution and pessimism to make realistic choices and endeavors. They use and exploit any rule or limit that they can to their advantage. They might also be very good at exploiting any sacrifices made or any obligation or responsibility that they are held to. They might be very good at avoiding any unnecessary thing or person and are very good at recognizing when something is too futile to even bother with.

Likewise they might only focus on the necessary things in their game or session so they are likely to not do much unless it’s absolutely necessary. They would very likely be very meticulous with themselves about following the rules properly and constantly restrict themselves, maybe thinking they aren’t following the rules properly enough or not following the right ones. They might sacrifice anything they consider unnecessary about themselves or the way they live, sometimes even going too far with it, in order to be considered or thought of as less useless. They’re always trying harder and holding themselves to extreme self-imposed standards.

They would likely wait for the opportune moment to strike, though they are slow to move or act, they always will when something necessary needs to happen. Out of all the Doom players, a Knight of Doom seems like the one most likely to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. A Knight of Doom can also expertly use and exploit fire, bombs and explosions to their advantage, maybe they create flashy distractions during fights. They might even use decaying or dying things to their advantage.

(from @/communistvriska)

Role in the Session: Rather like the Prince of Doom, this role’s title kinda has “edgelord” written all over it, but that’s not a set-in-stone character trait. The first thing that comes to mind re: what the Knight Class and the Aspect of Doom have in common is a strong sense of obligation. The Knight of Doom is bound to take their duties and responsibilities Extremely Seriously, perhaps rather too seriously at first ... Knights also tend to be very protective of both their Aspect as a concept, and of themselves and those close to them; while the Knight of Doom isn’t likely to be outwardly aggressive, given Doom’s reserved, slow-burn tendencies, woe betide those who try to deceive or confound the Knight or their allies. One of Doom’s internal contradictions (which I find personally fascinating) is that the aspect is associated both with cynical resignation and with a profound albeit restrained sense of passion and persistence. Doom is what’s left after everything else gets burnt away.

The Knight of Doom will likely be a very skilled combatant, as the Knight is a class strongly associated with Strife / battle, and Doom is one of the more overtly destructive Aspects. I’d put them in the Top 5 Roles to use a cool flamin sword, at least. They’re not going to be eager to fight, per se, but they’re not going to have much trouble scaling the echeladder when it comes to that either. Internally, they’re likely to struggle with a perceived (but largely imagined) inability to fulfill their duties, and they could well stumble once or twice in their quest to be perceived as reliable and stoic, or as someone who their friends can lean on. They’re probably doing more than enough already, but if they’re not careful they might overexert themselves and take on too heavy a burden, and they’re liable to be crushed by their own expectation that they face their challenges alone. This is going to factor into their capital-Q Quest and the environment of their planet, and will be the biggest obstacle in their path to Ascension. A Knight’s duty is to protect their co-players, but their co-players also have to support them.

#mail #scott summers

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dear-yandere · 4 years ago

Text

hiraeth (ii).

hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

yandere! don! giorno giovanna x f! reader. collab with @ddarker-dreams. read part one here! do not re-upload or use our writing without permission.

› warnings: angst, blood and gore, poisoning, canon-typical violence, death. › word count: 9.3k. › art credit: spearthymint.

Intrusive, lifeless eyes watch on from afar with tangible disgust. Hatred being the driving point behind his entire existence, all positive emotions are but a long forgotten memory of the past. To see the devil incarnate rejoicing in the fine pleasures of life is sickening, enough to make his head spin in further abhorrence. Observing from a safe, undetectable distance has been a rough challenge. All for the sake of procuring revenge, to fill the hole in his heart Giorno Giovanna tore out all those years ago.

Fueled by malice, the Stand, Snake Oil, slithers in the shadows of false paradise. More akin to a hybrid between human and snake, Snake Oil is the size of a fully grown man when stretched out to his fullest. His appearance is similar to that of a cobra, clad in ebony scales that serve as armor and dull, ruby eyes. Despite his imposing physique, it is truly unfortunate; having seen Giorno up close, Snake Oil knows killing him is impossible. So he’ll go for the next best possibility, inflicting the same pain he felt all those years ago. Having what you love most in the world ripped from you, torn apart before your eyes until nothing but blood and flesh remain. This is the bleak world of gangsters. To take and be taken from. To maintain equilibrium, vacillating between the highest of triumphs and lowest of defeats. Snake Oil has known nothing but the latter, surrounded by loneliness and bitterness that festers like an open wound. The scars of that day remain, the corpses of his family attempting to defend one another a grim reminder. A reminder that he’ll grip until his last breath, his only anchor in this world.

An eye for an eye.

The two of you are a picture perfect scene; pity how such beauty is fleeting. All it’ll take is a single opening. Giorno’s guard is lowered considerably, but he clings to you like an insistent shadow. How irritating. If only he left your side for a few more moments, then you’d be within range to kill. To have revenge just within grasp feels surreal in the best of ways. It brings a rush that the Stand hasn’t felt in years. The pain that makes up his resolve has yet to fade, pulsing and growing stronger as he searches for an opening.

There’s a visible shift between you two.

Snake Oil’s uncertain of the nature of things from this distance, gathering clues to the greater picture through body language. You’re on edge, impulsive, as you separate from Giovanna’s clutches, however momentary it may be. Snake Oil realizes this is the best opportunity he’ll be afforded. It isn’t the ideal set of circumstances, with your insistent shadow nearby, but it’s enough to be out of Gold Experience’s range. The Stand possesses great speed, a skill that will be fully taken advantage of in this course of this plan; in this moment, it seems more like a blessing than a skill, given who he’s going up against.

Checking to make sure the Don doesn’t follow you and remains seated, fate finally seems to have smiled upon Snake Oil today. This is the best opportunity he’ll get.

Slithering from his hiding spot amongst thickets, he lunges at you from behind. A horrified shriek leaves your lips at the constricting sensation surrounding you, body feeling like it may explode at any second. The air is forcefully pushed from your lungs, breathing growing erratic. Out of instinct, you struggle in hopes of freeing yourself, to no avail.

Two, phantom-like apparitions phase through your neck. You cry out, but the sound is pitiful and choked, dying mid air. The skin of your neck is raw, the insides slightly turned out and exposed in order to accommodate the invisible fangs of your attacker. The area pulses, quickly numbing when a venom is injected into your veins. The change is immediate, your eyes widened to their brim and your screams choked into your throat like spit. Your vision darkens slowly, the grip you once had on your consciousness now gone; the last thing you remember is the shock on Giorno’s face.

Giorno rises in an instant, a flash by his side procuring Gold Experience Requiem to come to your defence. Before any more movements are made on either side, Snake Oil takes control of the situation by speaking in a booming voice. It commands authority, knowing that leverage is within his grasp. That this wicked man wouldn’t dare endanger your life.

“Make one, tiny move, and I snap her neck.”

This is the plan, for better or worse. For Snake Oil to utilize its ability, a fast acting venom that’ll kill you within minutes. The in-between time of injection and subsequent organs shutting down will take place. During this period, he’ll finally find satisfaction in Giovanna’s suffering, helpless to aid you in fear of making it worse. Changes in your skin should be taking place now, veins growing dark as it carries the lethal dosage to the rest of your body. It’s acting slow, Snake Oil realizes. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, a false concern born from his anxiety about the situation.

It's a tricky situation, one which requires Giorno to act fast and tread carefully.

“I take it you won’t tell me who you are.” Giorno chooses his words with the utmost care despite the shock and anger rolling from his body. Gold Experience Requiem hovers closeby, the same rage thinly veiled beneath the Stand’s imposing and threatening presence. As Giorno’s Stand, GER has always been utterly taken with you, having no need to hide its affections like its user must. He is a pure amalgamation of Giorno’s love for you; the sight of your life endangered is no doubt a blow to its usual composure and restraint. Neither party wants nothing more than to destroy their enemy in an instant, but there’s no guarantee you wouldn't be caught up in the fray.

“You say that as if you remember the names of every person you’ve hurt,” Snake Oil does little to hide his animosity, keeping an eye out for any tricks Giorno may have. “It made no difference who I was before. Not until I threatened your little prisoner, that is.” The Stand sneers, its arm coiled around your neck. Its tail is strung around your lower half, restricting any flailing and movement should the poison’s effect be prolonged.

“What is it that you want?” Ignoring the Stand’s treatment of you, to the best of his ability, Giorno tests the waters. Every word the Stand speaks is funneled into his mind, searching for hints that can be taken advantage of, for any cracks that can be slipped through. The top priority is to get to you out of harm’s way, no matter the cost. Composure on either end is unfaltering, a duel of wits to secure a victor. This is a matter of life and death. And still, Giorno hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to see your body, your skin pallid and your limbs motionless, cradled in the arms of a man who intends you harm. His composure falters at the mere sight. That Stand isn’t just holding you; he’s holding Giorno’s happiness, his future, his heart in a vice grip. He sees the way your eyebrows knit and your body winces, the Stand’s grip far too tight to insinuate any goal other than to kill.

Snake Oil only smiles in response, not yet wanting to ruin this moment of pure distress radiating from the Don and his Stand. The sight itself is rapturing; it’s not everyday that a lowly civilian such as himself gets to see one of the most influential men in the world come apart.

Unabashed, Giorno considers what information is presented to him. From how this Stand speaks, its user is older, if not a bit inexperienced. No slang or other terminologies from a younger generation are present in his words, it’s far more removed and bitter. As if the user has seen the worst the world has to offer, callous in his direct approach; as if the user is betting everything on the line for a small chance at attacking the Don of Passione.

He needs to get you out of the Stand’s range. Since the Stand didn’t attack him, the main source of his user’s ire no doubt, it’s likely a long-range Stand. Any suspicious movements will lead to your death. And, from a quick look around, there are no suspicious vessels within a 10 km radius of the island; he would have seen them approaching long before, had there been. Its user must be far, and the Stand must be operating at its maximum range. Engaging in close-range combat would be the best bet if you weren’t engulfed in the Stand’s arms, its poison already blackening the veins around the entrance wound. Killing it might prove to be the only antidote, but on the other hand, it’s a risky trade. Perhaps the Stand’s power doesn’t include producing an antivenom — killing it early would slash any chances of saving you before the poison spreads further into your system. The only option for Giorno now is to provoke him, upsetting the Stand to the point where a mistake is made. In that opening, Giorno will strike.

“It must’ve been a lot of work to make it here,” Giorno begins his plan with a cautious comment, searching for any outward reaction. Nothing. Assuming he’s safe to continue, he offers his observations. “If you have any demand, make them known now.”

It’s not so much stalling, but rather, testing the waters. To see how much resistance he can offer without you being placed in any more danger, igniting sparks that will only gain strength with time. Each word is selected with great care, not wanting to further upset the emotional user and trigger an undesirable outcome. Under the face of immense pressure, Giorno steels himself. It’ll do you no good otherwise.

The Stand lets out a distorted chuckle, its grip on you unwavering. “Demands? Of course, someone in your line of work would naturally come to that conclusion. You think I’d go this far for power? Money? Drugs?”

Giorno’s eyes narrow, and he mentally checks off one motive.

“There’s nothing then? No affiliation, no desire for material gain?” Giorno’s incessant line of questions come to a halt when the Stand tightens its grip around you. Sensing that Snake Oil’s growing irate, Giorno can only assume it’s because this encounter isn’t going as planned. Given how frail you are, the poison should have spread to major points in your nervous system, your death imminent. While Giorno has his theories, ones he can only hope to be true at this very moment, they’re placed on the back burner for the time being.

“How could I forget? That’s all that matters to people like you.” The Stand’s tone is low, prudent. Giorno’s interrogation is getting somewhere, it seems. The Stand’s grip on your shoulders have loosened slightly, only to retighten within a moment’s notice. Giorno’s heart tightens in response, the unpleasant feeling not showing on his face in the slightest. “Gain. How to make more at the expense of others, a greed that cannot be sated no matter whose life is taken in the process.”

Ah. Perhaps...

“You say that like nothing could satisfy you.” The tempest unfolding in Giorno’s mind begins to calm. His answers lie at the eye of the storm, waiting to be found. It’s an easy enough feat for someone of Giorno’s caliber, as his job requires quick-witted thinking and observation. So he presses forward, his words more daring, his answers more confident.

The Stand can’t help but grimly agree, darkness spreading over its inhuman face upon realizing how unaffected the don is. “Nothing can.”

It’s brief, but Giorno catches a glint of sadness cross the Stand’s features. A trick of the light, perhaps, as he’s yet to see any Stand capable of showing emotion; and yet, this one reeks of resentment and regret. He’s closer to his answer.

“Not even her death?”

“It’s a place to start.” The Stand hisses in a displeased tone. This isn’t how he envisioned this encounter in his mind, the countless outcomes that all ended with Giorno Giovanna in the pits of despair. He should have known better; the Don of Passione is cruel. A monster who wouldn’t be phased even by the loss of his beloved. Still… an element of unknown is always present in Stand battles. Your immediate death should’ve been carried out by now. That’s how it was meant to be; the venom is fast acting on normal people, only slightly less-so on stand users. He draws bated breath and lets his expectant gaze flicker toward you. The moment you breathed your last, Snake Oil would have true satisfaction, witnessing Giorno lose everything he holds dear, just as he had all those years ago. Ultimately, he’d be killed for his transgressions. But he’d come to terms with that long ago, the final chapter of his life ending in Giorno’s grief. The ultimate satisfaction, even if it sends him to Hell. Even if it keeps him from his family.

But your face is pristine, calm despite the painful wound on your neck and the quickly blackening vessels under your skin. You… you’ve stolen that opportunity from him. Why won’t you just die already, like you’re meant to? Why can’t you die as quickly as his own family died before him? It can’t be due to Giorno’s Stand. If you were within Gold Experience Requiem’s range, that meant Snake Oil would be as well. The battle would be hardly fought, the Stand’s sacrifices for nothing. If that were the case, Giorno wouldn’t be watching from afar, the great Don of Pasione helpless to save his own beloved.

Something is wrong.

He can’t let it be for naught. Not after all the sacrifice, after all the hellish years that plagued him. Even now, Giorno waits patiently, an air of dignitary grace and poise befitting someone of his position. His eyes never once stray from the Stand’s physique, not even to check on his beloved, presumably searching for an opening to end the Stand’s life. There’s no chance to give it more thought. The power the Stand wanted to hold in this moment is faltering, slipping between his fingers like fine sand.

“How long ago was it that I took something from you?”

He’s going out on a limb, an educated guess more than anything else. He almost feels pathetic, betting your life like this, as if you’re another bargaining chip in Passione’s plans, another expendable pawn. But there’s no other option in his sights, his thoughts filled with saving the light of his life from the darkness of his own past.

There’s no longer an immediate response from the Stand, nor a sarcastic quip full of loathing. It felt like the most logical explanation, revenge being the greatest motivator known to man. Giorno knows he made the correct assumption, or something close to it, considering Snake Oil’s change in attitude. Did the Stand think Giorno would remain in the dark until the end?

“What… what do you mean?”

Hesitation.

Giorno’s lips twitch into a small, satisfactory smile, his nerves having earned some rest upon guessing correctly. He continues, this time with a barrage of thinly-veiled accusations rather than questions. “It must’ve been longer than a few months, with how much planning this would’ve taken. So when was it? A year, two maybe?”

The most drastic changes were made within Passione during the first six months of Giorno taking over.

“Why does the time even matter?” He bites. “All the people you’ve killed, they’re nothing but faceless names on a list to you.”

Giorno wants to laugh; for someone so bent on killing him, he took the bait far too easily.

“While that holds some merit, you’re no better in that regard.” He begins, shaking his head and shifting his weight onto the other foot, looking awfully lax despite the context of this conversation. He takes note of the way Snake Oil’s fingers twitch with arrogant annoyance. “Wanting to involve an innocent life who has nothing to do with this, you don’t know the first thing about her.”

“You’re wrong. I know plenty about this girl who had the misfortune of meeting you,” Snake Oil’s blank eyes flicker towards your incapacitated form. You look more like a helpless pup than the wife to a mafia boss; perhaps… perhaps that’s why he chose you. For your vulnerability, for your innocence. “Not that you made it easy. Having virtually every aspect of her existence wiped from the planet, going so far as to pay off police to end their missing person search… scum never has hopes of growing, do they?”

Giorno has no reason to justify his thoughts to a stranger who intruded on your paradise and put your life in peril, no matter what injustices he might have caused the man in the past. Only for the motive of provoking him further does he respond. “For the sake of protecting her from those who’d do her harm.” He quips, his expression unchanging.

“Is that what helps you sleep at night, Giovanna? A pat on the back for kidnapping some girl from her life, taking away all her freedoms? Letting her family search and search, only to be fed lies that there are no leads, that the case has gone cold?” Snake Oil’s grip on you falters slightly, a wave of pity washing over him at your poor predicament. How unfortunate you are to have earned the attention of a demon… “You don’t know the first thing about losing someone precious to you, do you? What you’re doing to her isn’t protection. This is greed, meant only to benefit yourself,” the Stand accuses. “Considering how greedy you lot are, I’m surprised it hasn’t occurred to you that, if it weren’t for your manipulation, she would’ve slit your throat weeks ago.”

Giorno is wholly unfazed; he has been called worse, by you even. Nothing the Stand says or will say could come close to the unfiltered hatred he’s heard from you. “Believe what you want, Snake Oil. It makes no difference to me.”

“... So it doesn’t. I suppose labels hold no significance in your life — you’ve come to terms with what you really are. You're a fool, thinking someone like yourself is capable of love. A murderer can experience no such thing.”

“And that’s what I am to you,” Giorno deduces, scouring the Stand’s mannerisms for any clues that may be of use. “A murderer.”

“It’s not what you are to me. It’s an undeniable fact.”

Giorno doesn’t give him the luxury of a response nor the slightest change in his own expression. His stare is blank, even with your life on the line, even when you hang uselessly from the enemy’s arms. The venom is spreading, creating a thick, void-like trail along the paths of each vein it reaches. Starting from the entrance wound in your neck, your blackening veins look like tendrils, crawling up your face and down your chest — toward your brain, your heart. So that is his Stand power...

“Does she know, Giovanna?” Snake Oil hisses, handling your unconscious body harshly. Giorno bites down on his bottom lip at the mere sight, composing himself; now is not the time to strike, not over something so trivial. If that were the case, he would have used Gold Experience Requiem the moment this enemy laid a single finger on your person. Snake Oil barks out more questions, clarifying himself. “Does she know who you truly are beneath that mask?”

Giorno returns his gaze to his enemy, the look in his eyes hardening considerably as he chews on the question. Is that his motive? To use you as a bargaining chip, a means to lower his guard far enough to strike? It’s clever, if nothing else, but Giorno is poised in the art of manipulation. The chaos unraveling in his head, jumping from conclusion to conclusion over your current state — even that is pushed to the far reaches of his consciousness. Lashing out will do the Don no good. It’s a strength right now more than anything, the ability to stuff his own emotions and humanity into the recesses of his mind. Considering how emotional this Stand and its user must be to find a remote, isolated island and its sole inhabitant — regardless of Passione’s extensive influence over the territory — this man has a personal vendetta against Giorno himself.

But he should have never involved you.

Occupied with their back and forth, the pair of men fail to take notice of how your finger twitches by your side. The movement is subtle, easy to miss; even Giorno is too caught up in the situation to pay you any mind for once. The slightest movements of your incapacitated body are the least of his concerns, right now, his mind filled with one thought: you haven’t awoken. You are dying, and that is far more than Giorno can take.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

The Don smiles sardonically. Gone is the ray of light that usually graces his features when he sets foot on this island, when his gaze lands on you. This man keeps speaking of you as if he knows you. If you were awake right now, you’d be easily swayed, your thoughts a mess and your mind easily malleable. This could ruin everything, everything he’s built here, everything he’s built for you, with you. You won’t look at him the same. Not like this morning. Not even like the weeks before, spent in harrowing isolation, flinching at his very presence. You’ll look at him like you would a monster; horrified.

But you aren’t awake. You are on the brink of death and he’s made next to no progress in your rescue. What a pitiful excuse he is. For all his power and influence, he can’t even protect you. He can’t even protect the very thing keeping him alive, the only person that showed a semblance of genuine love for him, even if it was hidden behind a hesitant and doubtful countenance. He was making progress. You were making progress.

“I am a murderer, as all gangsters are, but my reasons are just. I don’t need to explain them to someone such as yourself.” He laughs blithely. “Who did I kill that was so important to you?” He asks the same way one would ask for the time.

Snake Oil doesn’t answer.

“For you to come here, you must believe their death to be unjust. Who was it?” Giorno dwells on the thought for a second, deducing that these unknown variables must be closely related to this Stand’s user. “I can hardly recall their names, much less their faces. That begs the question: what did they do?” His smile grows, one-sided, as if knowing something his enemy does not. “I wonder… was it human trafficking? Narcotics?”

His only response is a glare, the Stand’s arm tightening around your neck like a noose. But, the Don head only cants to the side, testing the waters further.

“No matter. If I wasted time doing so myself, they must have deserved to die.”

It’s spoken like an irrefutable fact. An ultimate dismissal of human life, of their own autonomy. An insult to the memory of those Snake Oil held dearest. The words aren’t only indifferent, but spoken with implicit confidence. In the recesses of his mind, he knows what it is Giorno is trying to do. Rationale is snuffed out, replaced with righteous fury.

“You… you don’t deserve to speak of them. You know nothing.”

“Do I now?” The Don’s body relaxes, now knowing what the Stand is after. The investigation falls; the interrogation begins. “Ah, I remember.” His lips twitch into a cruel smile, enjoying the act of playing with this enemy’s feelings. To be ruled by one’s feelings, to the point of enacting revenge on a man you haven’t a chance of winning against — this Stand and its user wouldn’t make it in the world of gangsters for much longer. “A wife, and a….son was it? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? For revenge.” He tests the waters with a contemplative tone despite already knowing the answer, the Stand’s body language holding a tension and enmity it hadn’t moments before. “I don’t recall their faces or names, really, but I remember their screams. Your wife was groveling at my feet, begging for mercy. She had this look in her eyes — betrayal. You didn’t tell her your true profession, did you?” The Don’s lips twitch when Snake Oil falters, the latter’s eyes wide. “And your son… a prominent member in the very drug routes Passione aims to quell. I remember he tried to bargain with me, sell you out in exchange for my mercy.” Giorno laughs at the irony. To not even be trusted by your own family… “Like father, like son. He deserved to die.”

Snake Oil draws a sharp breath.

“And your daughter… such a sweet little thing. She didn’t understand what was happening.” He recalls with faint disinterest. “The look on her face was so tragic. I almost felt sorry for her. But she is related to you by blood, and scum can only breed scum.” An idea formulates, the words pressed past his lips as easily as breathing. “It’s a pity, though. She got away before I could…” He trails off, relishing in the way Snake Oil chokes pathetically on this information; his daughter… his only family is alive, somewhere, and... “I suppose I'll have to find her, take care of what I started." Giorno finishes.

“Shut up!” In his anger, Snake Oil’s grip tightens around your neck, squeezing at your already-suffocated veins. Giorno’s eyes flicker, taking note of the blackening nerves beneath your skin. “Don’t forget who’s in control here, Giovanna…!”

It’s all talk meant to rile him up, create an exploitable opening. Snake Oil refuses to fall into the trap, a ploy meant to keep him from enacting revenge. The words are heavy, a weight over his shoulders, but the Stand has you. While you should be dead by now from his ability, there are other ways to kill. Messier methods that he didn’t wish to stoop to, not until now. Giorno Giovanna, in all his sadistic glory, has dug a grave for his own beloved; an end truly befitting a monster such as himself.

“The pain I felt that day… you get to experience it now. You’ll pay for your sins in blood,” the Stand sneers, its expression full of countless years of pain. His gaze turns toward your unconscious body, his mind already concocting plans of a painful death. “Her blood.”

"You view me as a demon, but do you have the resolve to stoop to my level?" Giorno quips, his resolve quickly running thin. The air is tense, suffocating, but he can’t let his mask falter. It would mean the end to this. An end to you. An end to this paradise, this false Eden.

He’s not ready for that. Not yet. Not when you were finally...

“So sure of yourself, so confident…” Every word drips with malice, forced out from a dark place. Every syllable is a shot to Giorno’s heart, to his willpower, Snake Oil feels his goals shift, wanting nothing more than to prove Giorno wrong. That not everything can fall into place as he sees fit, that he isn’t as omnipresent as he believes himself to be. To see those calculating eyes widen in horror, knowing that he made a grave error.

It’s wishful thinking. Nothing in this world is that simple. If it were, Snake Oil’s family would still be by his side,and he wouldn’t be here, threatening an innocent girl with the displeasure of being involved with the worst scum society has to offer. He wouldn’t have had to stoop to the levels he did, likely disappointing those he cared for in the distant past. He wouldn’t have to stoop to Giovanna’s level and kill a blameless soul.

Monsters can only breed monsters.

Should the poison fail, so be it. It’s a messier death, a far less merciful one, but Snake Oil no longer has the capacity to care. How could he, after being taunted, when it was Giorno who was meant to be cowering away in anguish? The Stand’s grip around your limp body strengthens, intent on strangling out all signs of life. This is it, the final act of dishonor to end it all. Within a few seconds, you should be reduced to nothing but a corpse, a shadow of your former self, that sadistic light in Giovanna’s eyes long gone.

Time is at a standstill. It all happens in the blink of an eye.

At his torso, there’s a forceful shove that sends him sprawling backwards, air knocked from his lungs. Snake Oil lets out a shocked gasp, noticing the surprise on Giovanna’s own face; it’s clear he wasn’t expecting this turn of events, either. This attack… it couldn’t have been him. So that means you’re…

Before Snake Oil can dwell on his revelation, Gold Experience Requiem phases into the Stand’s field of vision, its speed unmatched and its strength beyond anything he’d prepared himself for. He knew death was coming should he mess up, should he let that monster creep under his skin. And yet, it still ends like this, a hole driven into his chest, just as it was meant to be. The pain is nothing new. The loss of everyone he’d ever cared about hurt far worse, but this… this is comforting. A release, a mercy. A promise that he will soon see his family, again.

The gentle wave that washes over him is short lived; the blow had sent him flying, his back pierced by a nearby rock. There’s pain, briefly, before it washes away all the same. Washes away into nothing. Death, he’s come to realize, feels like nothing, and yet everything all at once. Even death has a heart, it seems, a vague sense of clemency and calm that life lacks. All the memories of a time long past, all the regret and the pleasure that comes with living. Sweet memories, bitter memories… memories of his family, killed at the hands of a man who acts like a God dictating who should live and who should die. A God who slaughters innocents, under a false moral code. A God who locks away his own lover, as if her life means nothing; a God who looks at her the same way the stars admire the sun.

And yet, in Snake Oil’s last moments, that same God looks down at him the same way one would a fly before you kill it. The same insignificance, the same detachment. Like he meant never meant anything of value. And he realizes...

Death does not discriminate; life does.

Giorno gazes at the dying man with a look of vague disinterest, a sight he’s grown accustomed to. There’s no anger, no pity, no emotion. Those were stolen the moment your eyes snapped shut and your blood started rotting. Snake Oil will find no satisfaction in this squandered death, his life squelched out and amounting to nothing.

“Go to Hell. They’re waiting.”

The words fall from his lips so easily, so listlessly, without a shred of remorse. Snake Oil’s last moments are far from peaceful, those precious moments prior having lulled him into a false sense of security. They? Who are they? The Devil? His enemies? Or….

Realization hits. His blood has started to clot, and yet it boils with anger with indignant realization: he will go to Hell for his sins. He will go to Hell, and his family won’t be there. A sinner has no right of choice, only a punishment and its executioner. Even in these last moments, he’d hoped Giovanna would grant him the mercy of solace, the sympathy of a human rather than the malevolence of a monster. But that hope was misplaced from the start.

“Y...y-you’re a…. dem—”

But it’s too late. Snake Oil worked with diligence, but the devil works faster.

The storm has passed. The corpse, in its final moments, is gagging on thin air and it occurs to Giorno that its user is dying. Gagging on his own bile and vomit someplace far off, someplace Giorno can’t reach in his current state. If your life wasn’t in immediate danger, he’d hunt for the bastard himself, ensuring that his life has come to a permanent end. But you are more important. You will always be more important.

When he turns, he expects the worst. He expects to see your skin sallowed and your face sunken. He expects to see a lifeless husk, a goddess without the glow he’s come to admire. But that light is still there. You are still there, just as radiant as you were before your Eden was corrupted. The rise and fall of your chest is unmistakable, no matter how shallow your breathing may be. You’re alive. You’re alive, and Giorno’s legs nearly give out at the thought. Seeing you this close again, even as you cling to life, feels too good to be true. Giorno’s not sure who to thank, be it fate or having the devil’s own luck, but you’re still here. Still with him. This was too close to the chest. Pesky little details will be examined later, to ensure nothing like this ever has the chance to repeat. Security being tightened, loose ends removed… there’s an abundance of work to be done. For now, he allows himself to think only of you.

He’s by your side in an instant, checking your pulse and breathing. Gold Experience takes note of the movement beneath your wrist, pulsing as it should be, yet rapidly dimming. Any flesh wounds he can spot are immediately healed with a featherlight touch, fearing the unattended wounds may harm you further. He holds your limp body to his chest, gently trying to shake you back into consciousness. To bring you back to him.

“Let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours, amore.” His voice is so quiet and weak, it’s drowned out by the ocean waves. “I’ll be here as long as you need me. We need to finish our date, right? There’s still so much we have to do. I’ll clear my schedule, so just open your eyes and...”

He chokes, eyes wide with bitter tears. Your color is paling at an alarming pace, lips becoming a sickly blue. The flower he made earlier now looks out of place against your skin, its vibrant yellow petals so vivid in comparison — mocking you. Giorno chokes on his own spit; there’s no escaping it: you are dying, and he may as well be too. Giorno’s grip on you falters due to his own trembling, forcing him to steady you entirely against his chest. Every breath he takes is laboured, the weight of the world dragging him down. He’s seen this sight too many times before, and in his heart, he knows what this means. Without full knowledge of Snake Oil’s ability, there’s no way to treat whatever wounds were inflicted on you; he can only grasp at ideas from the previous encounter. It’d take hours to find and deliver the proper antivenom, and by then, it’d be too late. He knows this, and he hates himself for it. He hates his knowledge, his experience that allows him to come to this horrific conclusion. Giorno wishes he were a fool so he could delude himself into believing you’ll continue to live with him.

“You said you wanted a frog for a pet, didn’t you…? I’ll make as many as your heart desires, I swear it. So, please…” The words die at the back of his clenching throat. His entire life, he’s told himself that crying is useless. That it achieves nothing, a waste of time and effort. Action is always the best course, the only path that amounts to overcoming grief. It’s been the philosophy of his life, and yet; he kneels here on the verge of tears all the same. “Please, please, please…”

Another shake, more urgent than the last.

“I wanted—” he gulps back a telling lump forming in his throat, “I wanted to do so much with you. Cooking together is just the start, there’s so much more...” His voice is a low whine, like a child begging his parents for their time and affection. It’s a battle against time, a battle that he’s losing. “So much more…” His words are incomprehensible at this point, slipping from his mouth before he can gather himself. “I love you, [First]… I love you, I love you. Please, God…” The words are unschooled, said without thought — genuine. There has never been a moment in his life where he believed God to be real, not after everything he’s seen, not after everyone he’s lost. You can’t be another causality — he can't lose you too.

For the first time since he was a child, Giorno cries.

He cries for everything he put you through, for everything he took from you. Every wish you had, every dream he never got to hear. He stole them like his family stole his own. He promised to be better, a better man — someone who could change the world, someone with a good heart. Growing up, he wanted nothing more than to prove his parents wrong. His step-father, cynical and drunk and good-for-nothing. His mother, neglectful, always chasing a high, as if her own family was the lowest of the low. And his real father, his origins and identity unknown; a man who no doubt would not want to be part of Giorno’s life, his own son’s life. Giorno didn’t want to be like any of them, didn’t want to grow up to become a monster in the shape of a human. That sentiment feels hypocritical right now, having just lost his composure and temper. The remnants of a man’s own soul is not too far off, mangled and destroyed beyond recognition, its user dead on the shores of a monster who stole his family.

Giorno Giovanna is not a good man. His tears are more for you than anyone else; you truly did have the misfortune of meeting him. The Devil could drag him to Hell right now and his last thoughts would still be: “Let her go to Heaven.”

There’s a gradual change.

To the untrained eye, it might be too subtle to pick up on. Almost like a transparent sheen hovering just above your skin, a low hum of energy resonating alongside it. Giorno’s lip twitches as your complexion practically shines, eyes squinting to combat the light's growing strength. Too much is unfolding before him, a complex mystery where he remains in the dark. Snake Oil… he’s certain that Stand is no more. That’s when a chilling realization hits, like a bucket of ice being poured over him.

Gold Experience Requiem remains by his side, the Stand at the ready to attack as Giorno constructs a plan. Could Snake Oil have had a Stand that stays active upon death, like Notorious B.I.G? Giorno freezes at the thought, knowing full well the power a Stand like that would have. Hunting down its target for eternity. Did Snake Oil place an ability on you that triggered after death? In that case, precautions need to be taken to ensure you’re not placed under any further harm. There’s still a chance to save you; even Notorious B.I.G. had its flaws, no matter how terrifyingly powerful the Stand at first seemed.

But… something about it is off. The energy convulsing from you feels different, almost familiar. Warm and enveloping, unlike Snake Oil who conveyed nothing but bitterness and lost hope. What is this…?

The luxury of thinking is replaced by a raw desire to act, to salvage what little remains, not willing to patiently assess the situation any longer. Not after that’s what led to your possible death sentence in the first place. Divine light radiates around your limp body, and Giorno reaches out, prepared to fend off the perceived threat. His trembling hand inches closer to your iridescent skin, tingling at the sensation rolling from your person like a barrier, and then—

He’s flung back against the ground, as Snake Oil was before him. Gold Experience Requiem releases a fierce battle cry, lashing towards the presumed threat that envelopes you. Your person lets out a disgruntled noise at the attack, eyebrows twitching and body regaining itself. Cheeks flushing with color again, long eyelashes fluttering against your face. Rest is a coaxing concept, though something deep inside you commands that you wake.

Your eyes open.

Blood. Your vision is filled with a thick red, the beautiful blues and golds of the beach but a distant memory. The scene before you is a battlefield, its only remnants thick puddles of fresh blood. The liquid mars the beautiful beach sands, crimson revealing a story you weren’t meant to witness. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, dulling various areas that should be screaming out in pain. There’s too much to chew on, your thoughts in complete disarray. Your body feels prickly, vitality making a swift reappearance. And yet, there’s an unfamiliar pain at your chest, where Gold Experience Requiem’s hit landed. It’s dull, as if there is a layer of protection between your skin and the place the Stand’s fist had landed, but the very thought of Giorno hurting you, no matter the circumstance, has your mind reeling.

It doesn’t take long to piece together scattered pieces of the puzzle. In your delirium, you’d heard everything. It evokes disgust and shame, knowing you willingly went along with Giorno’s qualms. You had lost yourself, giving into him for frivolous comforts. He’s harmed too many, you’re not the only person to be on the receiving end of endless pain; you were just lucky enough to be on his good side. Morality and running a worldwide crime syndicate do not go hand and hand, no matter how many times Giorno tries to humanize himself to you. It’s all a facade.

This was all a mistake. You shouldn’t have come here, not so willingly, not with him.

“You’re a monster.”

A fact you’ve known for months now, and yet the words struggle past your teeth. A week ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say that and much worse to his face, relishing in the hurt that would momentarily cross his features. You had some semblance of power over him during those moments, using his twisted sense of love against him. You felt powerful, in control for once, having one of the most powerful men in the world grovel in wait for your affection. Before you, he wasn’t Don Giorno Giovanna, boss of Passione. He was just a boy, a psychopath, a man who had taken the world from you and expected your love in return.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last. He will always have the upper hand, some sort of control or advantage over you. You were a fool to think whatever you two possibly had — a relationship, if you could call it that — could work. Humans aren’t meant to be with monsters, and monsters aren’t meant to fall in love.

You realize that now.

“[First]...” For once, he’s speechless. Even saying that much is difficult. Gradually, he stands from the spot he’d been flung to, wearily making his way toward your crumpled body. His hand reaches out, shaking; were you slipping in and out of consciousness the entire time…? How much did you overhear? How much did you see?

“Don’t come closer!” You blink back tears, your vision focusing and unfocusing in the midst of it all. Your fingers, your hands, your… your body is glowing. The light is faint, weak, like the remnants of a flame before its wick gives out. “I-I… W-what happened? What happened to me?”

The puzzle pieces fall into place in his head. Giorno draws a sharp breath, his thoughts reeling to provide an explanation that won’t frighten you any further. In this state, you’re running on a high, coming down from the power your body has just awakened to. Having just defended yourself against a deadly venom, your body is running on pure adrenaline just to keep yourself upright. Your mind is reeling to rationalize what’s happening. Every nerve in your body felt like they were on fire, burning you up from the inside out. It’s as if you’re being overclocked, forced to work at full capacity, threatening to crash at any moment. Power rolls off your body in waves, as if it was meant to be there, as if it was there all along. And there’s an energy in your veins that feels wholly foreign, simultaneously yours and someone else’s at the same time. The ringing in your head is disorienting beyond compare; it feels as if your mind has been invaded, as if there is something else, someone else in your consciousness.

“What did you do?!” You don’t want to look at him, not in this moment, but the situation leaves you no choice. Your eyes flicker, briefly glowing with unadulterated rage when your gaze meets his. It couldn’t be possible, he couldn’t have… “You… you made me a monster just like you.”

“[First], I can explain everything, but you need to rest or—”

“No. God, I’m such a fool.” Your gut wrenches when you accidentally turn your gaze upon the battered corpse, its body mangled and face unrecognizable. Its heart hangs from its chest; you shudder to think what his human counterpart looks like. His death must have been painful, agonizingly slow — an end befitting a monster more so than a human. And he… he’s surrounded by a sea of blood — your husband is surrounded by a sea of blood.

“How could I forget? W-what you are…” Your eyes are fully glowing, pulsating with a holy energy when they meet his, but the sight is far from terrifying. You’re trembling. You’re crying. You’re pleading with him, just as you had when you first arrived on this island. You’re scared. “W-Will you do the same to me?”

His heart shatters.

Even now, as broken as you may feel, you cannot let yourself fall apart. If you break now, you won’t escape. He won’t let you escape. It will just be worse this time. You’ll always know the truth, the fact that countless lives have bloodied his hands — that he killed in cold blood then looked at you like your life is the only one worth keeping.

“You’ve already taken everything from me. You took my family from me. My friends. My life. My future. How am I any different from them? From any of the people you’ve hurt?” His expression wavers at your endless accusations, but he doesn’t defend himself and you take that as a confession to his sins. “That man was right. Do you remember all of them? All of your victims? All their faces? Their dreams and ambitions?” Air catches in your throat, realizing something the enemy had divulged; your family. They’d been… they’d been lied to, and that revelation does nothing to quell your anger.“What about their families? Are they still looking for them, too?” Your voice cracks, coinciding with your crumbling heart.

That’s right, your family looked for you. They searched for you; they mourned, they were betrayed. They think you’re dead, that you left without saying goodbye — without saying “I love you”. And you were deluded into thinking that everything was going so well, that you could forget, that you could start anew. You were happy, for once, for the first time in what felt like years. As close as you could get to happiness. Finally having set out on a path of healing, recovering pieces of yourself and putting them back together where no one else could. This illusion you allowed yourself to believe dissipates, the fog over your eyes lifting to reveal barren reality. A reality Giorno himself designed and held full control over, like a God, and you his sole obsession. If he is a God, he is cruel. To think otherwise is to be seduced by the enemy.

“You lied to me. You said I was safe here, that I could trust you.” Your voice breaks at that word — trust. What a pretty word, for such awful lies. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

Giorno gathers his senses, his head ringing with your hurtful words, his heart tired. He is losing you all over again; this is the only thing he can defend, as all your other accusations are more or less true. “[First], I had to. He was going to—”

“No. There’s never a good reason to murder, not when you have the power to stop them instead.” Your eyes flicker to Gold Experience Requiem, knowing full well of its powers. Giorno holds his tongue, realizing you’re right. He didn’t have to kill the enemy, not… not in front of you at least. Your eyes are not meant to see bloodshed or pain, and yet, he let his feelings get the better of him — and this is his price. “You didn’t have to, but you did. You killed him, Giorno. You killed him.” You can’t bring yourself to look at the corpse any longer. “That’s what monsters do.”

Each word stings more than the last.

He’s analyzing you. Mentally reciting and testing dozens of different explanations that might serve to placate you, even if it’s a temporary fix. Anything to get that stinging look of repulsion off your beautiful face, anything to make you look at him the way you did earlier. This is far more detrimental than the times you spoke down to him before now that a third party had been involved. The damage is already done, nature of himself that he tried to hide from you now out in the open.

There may be no coming back from this.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Giorno takes one step closer to you, stomach dropping when you flinch at the tentative action. All the progress has been undone, though he can’t mourn that now. He has to keep a straight face, lull you down this high filled with fear and adrenaline. Get under your skin again… make you trust him. “Come, let’s go inside. You must feel tired.”

“No. No, no, no, you liar. You’ve put me through a lot,” you correct with a weak glare, holding your hand to your chest. The same hand that had finally come to accept him just minutes prior. Recalling his touch makes you want to scrub the skin raw, knowing how bloodied they were. “Just… stay away from me, p-please.” Your demands sound more like pleads, the shock of your new abilities still paralyzing your system. Your wings encircle you still, their transparent silhouette coursing with a power you know not what to do with. Their presence alone makes you feel safe, a much needed barrier between you and him. It even withstood a direct attack from Giorno’s own Stand…

The possibility of escaping is becoming frighteningly real.

Giorno withdraws his outstretched hand, not wanting to scare you any further. It’s clear you don’t want to listen to him right now, and he’s not sure he wants to continue persuading you; the trembling of your body, the look on your face, like a frightened doe — you’re scared of him. The same girl that had looked at him with hesitant admiration, that had played with him, that had gotten to know him, that had kissed him — she’s gone, and some deep, hateful part of him knows she won’t ever come back. He’s walking on eggshells again and he knows it. In the terrified state that you’re in, there won’t be any deescalation. You’ve seen too much, know too much. It’s troublesome, too many factors at play to safely talk this out. There’s still the problem of your safety, and monitoring your body for any further repercussions from the earlier Stand attack. Giorno considers all of this, and with a silent sigh, makes a swift decision on how to best fix this. More roadblocks are set in the path of recovery, but he’s determined to see this through. That’s how he’s always been, and how he’ll always be until the day he draws his final breath. You are no exception; you never will be. Not when everything he does is wholly for you.

You realize something is amiss when he doesn’t respond any further to your pointed accusations. Normally, you’d see a flicker of hurt flit across his features — the only time he ever lets his guard down, even slightly, is with you. That’s not the case now, not after everything you’ve heard, everything you’ve seen. Lips parting, you’re about to inquire what it is he’s plotting, but by then it’s far too late. From the blood by your feet, roots start to form at the base, coming to life by Gold Experience Requiem’s ability. An unidentifiable substance leaks from them, sapping away at the remnants of your consciousness like parasites. It acts as a salve, soothing the snake bite on your neck and the skin covering your blackened veins, but its true purpose is far from that, meant to constrain you, to confine you. It’s a terrifying sight, being restrained by vines tainted in the blood of a dead man, being restrained by an entity that had made you gifts and brought you joy only minutes prior.

He’s using his ability on you.

Gold Experience Requiem, an entity that had excitedly made you a crown to place atop your head, looks almost distraught as he covers you from head to toe, confines you like his user has for as long as you can remember. They are one and the same, you realize; how foolish it was to believe this man was capable of anything but tragedy. You had been charmed by pretty lies fashioned to ensnare you for eternity. His words, his actions, everything about him was a lie — a forbidden fruit.

Standing becomes too arduous a task, your body crumpling to the ground in a pathetic show of weakness. The world around you grows blurry, your eyelids fighting to remain open only to lose and sink into the sweet call of sleep. Everything feels so far away. The call of the birds, the crashing of the ocean… even the sand that rubs against your skin doesn’t register. The only thing that does is the look on his face, so unlike the monstrous, dissociated expression he had when he took a man’s life before your eyes. Even that, all the pain, dread, betrayal, it’s all slipping away, to some place you cannot reach. Not anymore. The light that stems from your back flickers, the remnants of your holy wings shattering like fragments of glass. Giorno approaches you as the disorientation continues and your Stand deactivates, having protected you long enough. He wants nothing more than to take its place as your savior, your protector, his arms reaching out to catch and prevent your body from further harm. You’ve been through enough. You were right; he’s put you through enough.

As consciousness fades, you hear the Devil whisper one final promise.

“I’ll fix everything, just give me time.”

314 notes · View notes

cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

Laced up and ready to get dirty

Fingers tighten around the leather of the steering wheel, tensing till his knuckles go white then relaxing again. Deep breath in, then a long exhale. In… and out...

Steve is excited and thrilled and eager but also completely, devastatingly… nervous.

He angles the rearview mirror to look at himself and fidgets with his hair- not that it needs to be retouched for the fifteenth time today already, but it buys him time. Precious time to waste away on hesitation, and the longer he gets to hesitate, the less likely he is to actually.... He glances down the tan, buttoned up trench coat and triple checks that it’s closed all the way up and pulls on the belt to tighten it around his waist till he loses breath, JUST to be safe and secure.

It was a stupid spur-of-the-moment idea he got last week when he was visiting Hawkins to clear out whatever was left of his childhood home; his parents selling it now that Steve doesn’t live there anymore, all with such a lack of grace that shows they never really cared for that house, as if it was nothing more than a lavish cage for their only child. In a bag of clothes marked for donation - his father’s idea of philanthropy - Steve found an old Burberry trench coat, truly as fashionable and fitting now as it was back then, only difference being that as an adult who pays for everything himself, this coat would now be the most expensive thing in his and Billy’s entire apartment. Maybe he should have been more grateful for all that he had back then, or so his father would say whenever he found time to reprimand his son, but that wasn’t what he needed.

“Arrh, fuck!” Steve groans and rubs his face in hopes of recentering himself on the task at hand. He could mope around and be sad about his terrible father later, right now there’s more important things to do.

Such as opening the door to the same old BMW, the car soon on its last legs, having only survived this many years thanks for Billy’s expertise truly. It’s a bit colder out on the street than Steve expected, or maybe just a bit too windy, but he isn’t exactly wearing it to stay warm as much as he is to stay covered.

The hem of it grazes against the top of his suede boots as he takes decisive but careful steps around his car, now facing the open carport that exposes the inner works of the small service shop. It’s been almost a year since Billy got hired here as a mechanic, and it is possibly the happiest Steve’s ever seen him. Neither of them ever dreamed of big and important lives, no wanting to be a doctor or president or astronaut. All they wanted to be was happy, and they’ve found it in the simplest way possible.

He spots Billy immediately, past all the sweaty men, scattered car parts, and open hoods, he sees his boyfriend rise up from having just been shoulders deep in the guts of a shiny pontiac, coveralls tied around his waist, his white tank soaked with sweat, arms stained black with oil and grease.

The sight of it all sends delightful shivers down Steve’s entire body, ears to toes, and as he watches Billy wipe away sweat from his brow, well suddenly Steve’s far more confident in what he came here to do.

It shows in the way he marches towards Billy, who turns with a cocked brow at the assertive footsteps approaching him, where once he sees that it’s Steve demanding his attention, the most effortlessly smooth and charming smile spreads across his face, lids heavy to match the way Steve stares - something so salacious in the way his eyes glide up and down Billy’s dirty body, shiny with sweat.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Billy asks in a low and gravelly tone, quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard.

“Hmmm well…” Steve coos and plays lightly with the belt of his coat, the way his fingers flirt with the fabric hopefully clear with his intent, then speaks bluntly, “I woke up kinda horny today, y’know? Thought I’d save it for later- for when you come home, and tried distracting myself with doing the dishes or vacuum or anything really, but my hand just kept going down to jerk myself off-”

“Jesus Christ Stevie,” Billy breathes harshly.

“-and so eventually I wound up back in bed, on my knees, three fingers deep in me-” Steve wiggles said fingers for certain emphasis. “-but it just wasn’t enough. I need something thicker and veinier.”

With every word his stomach ties knots around itself, yet his dick is filled with life at how risky this is, with how much he needs to feel Billy pounding him sore and weak.

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Billy licks his lips, a hand reaching down to inconspicuously cup at his growing erection.

“I was hoping you could help me with my little problem? Ensuring that my engine is properly lubricated,” Steve’s naughty little smile fails at his own words, growing wider and betraying the sexy facade.

But it doesn’t seem that Billy minds as he laughs a bit too loud, biting his lower lip as if that would help keep his own smile more casual than one filled with exuberant joy. “You’re a menace- that was absolutely horrible,” he chuckles and brings both hands to his hips.

“Don’t be mean, I worked on it all the way here!” Steve’s own amusement bubbling over and into his voice.

Billy dares take a step closer, eyes slipping from Steve’s lips down his neck, pausing where he should be able to see the collar of a shirt. “You don’t have to try so hard for me, baby. Just tell me what you need, and maybe I can be of assistance.”

Steve’s expression dips back into something most indecent, his gaze burning with desire, pink lips parted as he slowly enunciates, “I need you to fuck me, hard and rough. I want your hands all over me, want your cock in me so fucking bad I think I might go insane without it. Please Billy, I-I can’t wait till you get home,” desperation seeps in as his tone goes almost whiny.

And Billy gapes like a fish, lips hesitating around emptiness as he tries to formulate thoughts. He glances around the shop, up at a clock hanging above the “Employees Only” sign, brow furrowed as he contemplates his options, all the while Steve waits as patiently as he can, pulling the belt tighter around his waist as if it would magically open up if he didn’t.

“Why don’t we… step into my office, and I’ll see what I can do?”

Unfortunately by “office” Billy meant the blindingly bright, claustrophobically small employee bathroom. It’s maybe 6 by 6 feet large and not at all what Steve had in mind, but he’s not going to complain about the abnormally large mirror above the sink. And at least it looks clean… enough.

Steve’s quick to turn to Billy as soon as the lock clicks, grabbing on to the white tank and using it to guide him to sit down on the toilet.

Billy, however, disagrees with that immediately and moves to touch Steve, who just as swiftly grabs his wrist, restricting his reach.

"Billy-" he starts off a bit agitated, but smoothes into something more agreeable, "Baby, if you get my coat dirty, you'll be eating cornflakes till you can afford to send it to the dry cleaner."

The way Billy laughs at that is mocking in a sense, but his shitty grin simply reminds Steve of the thrill he felt back in high school, after they started fucking around but before they became serious about one another.

"Forgot what a priss you can be sometimes, princess," he drawls and leans back, licking his lips as he settles with something vaguely familiar to patience.

“Hmmm…” Steve hums, slowly untying the belt of his coat. “You like that I’m high maintenance sometimes.”

He smoothly slips out of the heavy boots.

“Makes you feel real good about yourself though, getting to fuck someone with above average standards.”

In a show of how agile and limber he is, Steve stretches out his leg where the coat parts in front, and hooks his heel over Billy’s shoulder. Who in turn stares with a bit wider eyes at the silky soft, pastel pink nylon stockings clinging to Steve’s shin. Billy’s grip on his own thighs tighten with self restraint, the urge to touch the smoothness of Steve nearly unbearable.

“Did you shave your legs?”

“I did, for you.” Steve generally doesn’t care about leg hair, but found it a bit awkward looking when his thick, dark hairs stuck out of the bright nylon. “Wanna see what else I’ve shaved?”

Leisurely but with gentle pressure, Steve lets his foot glide down Billy’s chest, over his abs and all the sweat stains of his tank, past where the sleeves of his coveralls have been tied together, till he finds Billy’s hard cock tenting already, eliciting a lurid little hiss as he rubs it with the sole of his foot.

“God, you’re so easy, baby,” Steve speaks low with intent, drawing circles, revelling in the choked groans. “Getting you hard like this is effortless.”

At an all too agonizing pace, deliberate and mean, Steve unbuttons his coat from the bottom and up, exposing more and more of his thighs, the build up thrilling him as he watches how Billy sweats and struggles to remain dormant. Oh how he cannot wait to get the coat off and let his boyfriend ravage him completely, even the mere thought of it makes his own prick throb and beg for attention.

Billy stares with the most attention he’s probably ever shown any one person, eyes following the movement of Steve’s fingers, up and up and up, until a hint of lace gets revealed at the end of the stocking, cute and floral and feminine, a dozen small roses hugging the pale flesh, shiny straps leading further up to hide beneath the tan of the trench coat.

Steve caresses his thigh, hooking a finger beneath the strap and pulls it up only to let it snap back against his skin loudly, the sound reverberating, all the while never looking away from how Billy watches with intense hunger.

The burning gaze affixed to fingers follow right along, as Steve makes a bit of a jump and starts unbuttoning from the top now. One by one, till he runs his index along the hem, up to where it grazes against his neck, to pull slowly so that one shoulder can slip out, uncovering the strap of what can only be a bra, reaching down to hold on to delicate lace.

Harsh sighs escapes Billy as he attempts to control his breathing and himself, tongue darting out to wet his lips - Steve can feel the way Billy’s fat cock pumps full of blood beneath his foot.

There’s only two buttons left, and as one of them falls free, the coat drops down to bunch around Steve’s waist and the sink he’s leaning against, putting the pink, lacy bralette on full display; roses and leafs arranged into small triangles that sits tight against Steve’s pecks, his nipples just barely visible beneath the gorgeous and elegant fabric.

“Stevie, babe, please, I’m going to explode here,” Billy complains in an almost hilariously irritated manner, raising his hand up towards Steve’s thigh-

“No touching yet, I’m not done.” Steve swiftly kicks away that dirty hand.

“Thought you needed me to fuck you so bad,” the mocking response comes as Billy’s hand retreats to dig into his pocket.

And Steve pauses with his fingers around the final button that will unravel everything. “Well yes, but the thrill of anticipation gets me so hard.”

He pushes it out, wraps his hands around the coat and slowly pulls it apart, like a curtain revealing a true masterpiece of craftsmanship. And if Billy’s eyes were wide before, they’re now threatening to pop out at the sight of the garter belt attached to the stockings hugging Steve’s waist perfectly, and a thong matching the bralette in shape and lace, that might once have had a chance of containing all that Steve is, but now his long, full dick reaches up towards the belt with hard pride.

“Holy fucking shit,” Billy gapes, “I didn’t forget our anniversary or something, did I?”

Steve chuckles and blushes slightly at the attention and knowledge of just how stunning he looks. “Can’t I just surprise my boyfriend for no reason other than fun?”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m also sure you have some ulterior motive… not that I’m complaining.”

The sly smirk across Steve’s face suits him well as he slips out of the coat entirely, and reaches out to hang it on the hook attached to the bathroom door. Now fully exposed before Billy, Steve spreads his legs a bit further, runs his fingers lightly over the lace of his bra, and bats his eyes slowly.

Who stands up just as slowly, hesitantly, as if he’s still awaiting orders, as if Steve will tell him to stop and sit down any second now. When he reaches out Steve grabs his wrist, firm and assertive, but doesn’t linger in that moment; brings Billy’s hand up and up to touch his cheek, brushing fingers against pale skin and defiling it with dark smudges of oil. Still Steve doesn’t relent as he guides the hand down again till the rough palm presses against his throat, and Billy takes the opportunity immediately to squeeze.

A gasp hurries out at the sudden tightness around his airway and Steve’s eyes rolls back with the pleasure that jolts through his system, making his already painfully hard prick pulsate worse.

“Fuck, Billy…”

The other hand lands on his thigh, besmirching the pretty pink there, pushing into the soft flesh. As Steve closes his eyes to enjoy the euphoric, brutish hold he’s under, Billy dives in all tongue and teeth, biting at his lower lip and licking in to taste how sweet his spit is. Steve lifts up his free leg to hook it around Billy’s hips, drawing him in, finally allowing them both some heady friction, encouraged by strangled moans.

“Mmh- arrh, shit, pretty boy, this really couldn’t wait till I got home?” Billy growls against Steve’s lips, tickling as they brush together.

“I- mmh-ah, I wanted you dirty and risky like this,” Steve coos as low as he can and chases a kiss, but Billy leans away with such a shit eating grin. “Billy-” Another chase. “-Billy, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg, princess,” Billy’s laugh rumbles like thunder on a summer night; warm and deep and comforting

He takes a step back, Steve’s body instinctively trying to follow at the abrupt lack of touch, and with quick hands Billy undoes the way the sleeves are tied around his waist, unzips the rest of his coveralls that fall without effort to the floor, and pulls down his dark trunks enough for his steely cock to practically spring free.

The way Steve audibly inhales at the sight of it is almost humoristic, his body now acutely aware of everything that’s about to happen.

“How do you want it?” Billy drawls.

And it brings Steve back from the more indecent places his mind went at the sight of what he’s been hungering for all day. Half of him wants to drop to his knees and suck Billy dry till he’s delirious, the winning half however… He looks away for only as long as it takes him to retrieve the small and discreet bottle of lube from his coat pocket and pops it open before Billy can even speak again. He pours it into his own palm and closes his hand around Billy’s thick dick, stroking him quickly with impatience, slicking up every inch of hard flesh.

“I want you to fuck me from behind, bend me over the sink and pound my hole till I’m on the verge of tears,” Steve’s voice a lewd little thing, a salacious whisper only Billy would ever be found worthy of hearing, ghosting across his lips.

To which the only appropriate response Billy deem fit is to grab on to his boyfriend’s naked hips and spin him around, leaving clear, gross handprints that get smudged when those same hands smooth their way down to fill out with Steve’s ass.

Steve’s all too eager to bend down over the short sink, bracing himself on the porcelain edges as he watches how Billy admires the view through the mirror. The way those clear blue eyes stare down at his exposed self, tongue out to lick his lips like a wolf would before pouncing on an innocent lamb; it makes his heart beat faster, drowning his senses in quick waves of heavy lust.

“So pretty for me, baby, all laced up and fingered, wish you could see this.”

Billy gazes up through his lashes to meet Steve in their reflection. He grins with his tongue caught between teeth as he raises his hand just enough for Steve to have a moment of realisation before there’s a loud smack and stinging sensation.

“Mmh- ah! Fuck…” Steve barely manages to catch the moan with a bite of lips, his cock dripping with pre cum into the sink, whining with elation as the firm palm on his ass massages the red print.

A finger hooks itself on the slight string of the thong that runs between spread cheeks, pulls it aside, allowing Billy a good eyeful of Steve’s rim still wet with lube.

“You really just stood out in the shop in nothing but this, all slippery and ready for me to fuck your tight little hole with my fat cock?” He pulls on the fabric till it can’t stretch any further, wrapping it around a finger to allow himself freedom to grab on to Steve’s ass again. “Came all this way because you needed me to fill you up with my cum so bad.”

The blunt head of his cock lines up perfectly with Steve’s greedy entrance, and the poor, needy brunette can’t help but push against it, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly slides further and further along Billy’s dick, who hums with appreciation at the way the other is so willing to do all the work, velvety muscles clenching around him when he bottoms out.

“That good for you?” he asks kindly and squeezes Steve’s fleshy, pale cheeks.

Steve draws shallow circles with his ass pressed firmly against Billy’s hips, breathing in a manner that would be moans at home in bed, panting and sighing now; low drawn out hums. He sounds relieved, like Billy’s girthy cock was exactly what he needed, swallowing thickly as he nods, incapable of words lest they come out too loud.

Billy leans in to kiss up Steve’s shoulder, giving every mole on his way the attention they deserve, moves up his neck to the shell of his ear, snaking an arm around to hold Steve by the throat softly and tenderly.

“You’re so fucking tight, princess,” he purrs and nibbles at Steve’s ear as he leisurely starts moving his hips back and forth, adoring how breathless Steve looks in their reflection, mouth hanging open.

With his other hand he leaves a trail of oil stains up Steve’s stomach, leading to where Billy smoothes his fingers across shaved pecs, caressing the skin as he teases the frilly edges of the pink bralette, his every touch like fire igniting inside of Steve, his body tensing delightfully.

Billy squeezes tighter around Steve’s throat, a gesture that can be felt vividly in the way his wet dick pulsates and drips - pre cum running down his aching flesh to wet the thong even worse. The thrusts grow longer and deeper, Billy pulling out till just the head is inside, then tentatively pushes back in till he’s balls deep, and every time he runs over that certain spot inside of Steve a sensuous little gasp escapes those perfect lips.

“Look at what a mess you are, baby.” He brings them as close as possible - Steve’s back against his chest, rim choking around the base of his cock.

And Steve opens his eyes just enough to get a good view of how oil and grease has stained his pale skin and somewhat expensive lingerie, pastel roses and delicate embroidery defiled and tarnished beyond repair no doubt. His painfully hard dick that with a stroke or two would have him come undone. Billy’s crystal clear eyes that stare back intently; hungry- no, starved for this.

“A beautiful…” Billy kisses Steve’s neck with undeniable love and infatuation. “Needy…” Lips at the crook of his neck. “Desperate…” His shoulder. “Mess.”

Billy pulls out and slams back in so suddenly it barely leaves Steve time to catch his lucid gasp before it would have been heard from outside the door. Billy’s hips snap against Steve’s ass again and again at an indelicate pace, his teeth sunk into a shoulder as he bites back his moans, eyes trained on the way Steve’s brows knit together, eyes squeezed shut tight as he struggles with his own wanting to give sound to the burning desire lighting him up.

Skin slapping together, the obscenely wet sounds of Billy pounding Steve’s hole, ramming against that glorious sweet spot over and over, it’s intoxicating, fueling the white hot fire that coils at the bottom of Steve’s gut. Both of Billy’s hardened hands grab at Steve’s pecs, the skin of his fingers toughened up from fiddling with engines all day, rough against Steve’s sensitive nipples as Billy pulls down the bra to pinch and squeeze.

“Mmh ah- fuck-” Steve’s eyes roll back at the flourishing bliss that forms in his chest. “Billy…”

“Yeah, you like that?” A rhetorical question that barely receives an answer before Billy presses his dirty thumbs harder against the strutting buds.

Steve’s thighs tremble from it all, teeth biting at his lower lip as he fights every instinct to let it all out. And from the way Billy leers and grins mischievously at the sight in the mirror, there can be no doubt he knows.

Moves his hands to grab Steve’s hips with near bruising tension as he starts slamming into him, thrusting with intense fervor; the pace punishing and the sounds of how their bodies collide worse. Billy’s eyes are pinned to the spread of cheeks where his steely cock pounds into his boyfriend’s tight, slippery hole, his breathing ragged and tongue out wagging enthusiastically.

And Steve’s helplessly lost in his own euphoria of the moment; a hand flies up to clasp at his mouth, the other pressing against the mirror for the sake of balance so as to not get shoved against it whenever Billy rams inside, helping Steve inch closer and closer to climax, with breathless groans and grunts, sighs and whines, all too loud for such a public setting, yet not loud enough for such an intimate act.

Billy bends over to press his sweaty forehead against Steve’s shoulder, gaze still locked to where heat flares up at every plunge, at the way Steve’s body clings to his veiny dick.

“You’re so perfect like this, baby,” his voice rough like wet gravel, “So eager and greedy. Gonna cum in you, Stevie boy, fill you up till you’re ready to burst.”

“Please,” the self-restraint apparent in his tone. “I-I’m so close.”

Then there’s a hand in his hair, yanking and pulling his flushed face off of the mirror and back, his intense breathing fogging up the mirror as he struggles to keep hushed through his sudden orgasm that washes through him, the intensity blinding, his every nerve buzzing vividly at the unexpected release till there’s nothing left in him, but the sensation of Billy vigorously driving his girthy cock in and out, sending forth slight waves of static heat.

Till it comes to a stop with one forceful shove, the hand in his hair tightening, the fingers by his hip digging in, as Billy buries himself completely, pressing Steve against the sink till his thighs hurt from the porcelain edge jabbing him.

But it’s worth it to feel how every muscle flexes, Billy’s teeth closing around Steve’s shoulder to muffle his deep rooted moan that almost escapes in its entirety. Worth it when Billy comes down from his high and relaxes again, yet stays here like this, softening inside of Steve’s well used hole, arms wrapping around his chest to hold him close whilst they both catch their breaths.

Billy kisses gentle apologies across the imprints his teeth made on Steve’s skin, up his neck and as far across his cheek and jaw as he can reach from behind.

And Steve simply stands still, caught between his boyfriend’s broad figure and the white sink, convinced he would fall if Billy stepped back. He leans into the loving attention he’s receiving, every press of lips to his sweaty skin a blissful little source of tender satisfaction. When he finally opens his eyes again after having mindlessly drifted away in the afterglow, he just barely catches the way Billy glances down and grins in a rather humoured way.

“At least you got most of it in the sink,” he rumbles against Steve’s shoulder.

Looking down Steve sees his cum splattered into the sink, yet a few good drops made it up around the faucet and almost even to the wall. Yet his first thought is that he could have made it onto the mirror if he had jerked himself off to completion.

“Who’s going to clean it up?” Steve huffs a little laugh and meets Billy’s gaze in their reflection.

Who tries to hide his smile with kisses. “Hmmm I dunno, kinda wanna see what happens if we just leave it like this; who my boss is gonna blame for cumming in the employee’s bathroom.”

“Gross.”

“It’s yours, princess,” Billy chuckles out and rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“So you’re saying I should clean up after myself?”

“Mhm, yup,” the p pops.

When something changes in Steve’s expression, a clear difference from one second to another, lids heavy as he turns his head to look at Billy with lips inches apart.

“Then it’s only fair that you clean up after yourself, too, don’t you think?”

#Harringrove #My writing #lemon #4.4k words #Including some public fun #Mechanic!Billy #and Steve in lace lingerie #It's also on ao3 if that's easier to read

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cultureisdarkbeer · 4 years ago

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In Season 8, Mulder returned to a world turned upside down. This is the story of how he worked his way back into Scully's arms.

*NEW* Chapter 4 - Does Scully want to be more than friends with Mulder? Does Mulder have the courage to ask? *Reader Discretion Advised*

Read Full Chapter Here

“Thank you for driving me home,” Scully said, as they pulled onto the street and towards her apartment.

Mulder twisted his hand around the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Thank you for attending my therapy session. What did you two talk about in there?” He tried to sound cool, but his eagerness was not lost on Scully.

“Reviewed different techniques, how I could be more supportive.”

Mulder tilted his head. “Sometimes, the flashbacks, nightmares, and anxiety attacks seemed to be subsiding. Almost as if my mental trauma is healing with my physical wounds. Then others, it is like I just got off the ship.”

“No one should expect you to heal at any pace, Mulder. He said it should take at least three months before you might begin to feel progress.. but Mulder, however long it takes, or even if you always have certain anxieties, depression, that’s okay. There is no right and wrong.”

Mulder didn’t know how to respond so he simply nodded. If only it was as simple as time passing or even the acceptance that time couldn’t be rewound, but there was more. A lot more.

The rest of the drive was met with a comfortable silence. It was so quiet he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. A quick glance in her direction revealed her eyes were closed, then, as if feeling his gaze, she opened them and a small smile curved her lips. She reached out and grasped his hand before once again closing her eyes. Did he just hear her sigh? Mulder considered how Scully seemed more willing than ever to follow him. Now, she seemed invested, even with her interest in helping him work through his trauma. It couldn’t be that her interest in helping him was only in relation to their shared past, their friendship. So many weeks had passed for her and so much of her life he had missed. Did he have a right to demand she make a choice? Did he have it in him to take that leap of faith and put himself out there? Was he just going to sit there and let another night go by without even asking? Just let her walk into that apartment without saying anything?

When they pulled up to Scully’s apartment, Mulder gathered up some courage and asked, “Do you still have my files on your laptop? When I was searching through the archives today I didn’t see them and I had some on my hard drive that left with my computer.”

“Actually, they took my laptop as well… buuuuut, I did have a backup hard drive and I was able to reload it into my new laptop.” Scully gave him a smile that sent a cascading warmth through his insides. “Come on up and get what you need.”

Don’t tempt me Scully.

Once inside, Scully took off her coat and headed to the bathroom. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to use my laptop. You already know the password.”

Pushing the image of Scully standing under a hot steaming shower naked and wet out of his mind, Mulder headed straight to her desk and sat down on the hard backed wood chair. A couple swipes at the keyboard and a quick search and Mulder was faced with two folders with his name on it. He considered doing a round of eenie meenie, but in the end just clicked on the top folder. The file names were all dates. In fact there was a file for every day going as far back as a week after his abduction. It had his name on it, so he picked one at random and opened it.

Mulder,

I have to believe you’re out there, alive. That belief is what keeps me moving, keeps me taking those leaps to solve the next X-File. I miss you with every breath, and I refuse to give up hope. We will be together.

Today’s case led us to Indiana, you’re going to laugh when you hear what I told Doggett….

He closed that file and opened another. He didn’t want to know about her and Doggett. There were more, lots more, covering cases, days off, shopping, hospital visits. Mulder couldn’t read fast enough and couldn’t stop either. He opened one dated during the time he was buried in the ground. It read:

Mulder,

Some days I question why I continue writing to you. In the beginning I believe it was because I didn’t want to let go. Other days it felt like you were closer when I did, like somehow, you could still hear me. Now maybe I write them so my baby may one day read them and know what you meant to me, what our relationship was like so one day they might be blessed to find the same. I prayed daily for your return and lately, I pray even harder.

I was going through my old answering machine tapes, my voicemails from my cell. I decided to take all the ones I have and put them on a cassette tape so the baby can hear your voice, know what you sounded like when I tell them about you. Tell them of the love of my life, my perfect other, and how I found him and how he gave his life for us, so that we may live.

I spoke in the past about driving in our endless straight line and now that I can look back on it with a clear mind, I understand that night in Oregon when you said it had to end sometime, in essence, you were throwing me out of the car.

I became pregnant with the full intent to raise this child on my own, to take on the full responsibility. Marriage was nothing I ever strived for even if the possibility of being married never strayed. I put myself, my career, the work, before those things. It was something that might or could, but nothing I truly needed. Now, when I look in the mirror, I know, you were the only one I would have ever considered that kind of commitment with. Now, that chapter of my life is forever closed without ever being written. You were my partner Mulder, in work, in love, in life.

“Did you find what you were searching for?” Scully said, and Mulder practically jumped right out of his skin. He spun in the chair and stood to face her. His fears turned to joy. She was beautiful, radiant, standing there in her robe, casually drying her crimson locks with a towel. And those legs, those little legs, and how they felt wrapped around him… Scully in love.. with him . His heart swelled, lighting him from head to toe, spreading warmth in its wake. A kaleidoscope of emotions ran over every part of him like a raging river, healing the cracks, filling and overflowing the voids.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low as he barely got the sound out. He had found exactly what he was searching for. He cupped her face as she searched his eyes. He watched the desire that raged in him ignite inside her. Losing that last thread of restraint, he tilted her head up towards him and his lips crashed on top of hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his jaw rocking in time with hers, their kisses desperate, almost frantic.

Despite the insatiable hunger he felt, he pulled back to judge her reaction. Her eyes were soft in their gaze, but then her lids lowered and her eyes transformed to blue steel. Before he was able to speak, her fingers were in his hair, pulling him back down, kissing him hard, deep, unleashing unrestrained need and a passion that sent the crown of his cock swelling and brushing the seam of his boxers.

Mulder groaned and gently pushed her away before it went any further. “Is it safe to..”

“The doctor has me on no restrictions,” she answered back hastily. “I just don’t want to move too fast for you. I want you to be ready.”

Mulder laced his hands through her amber locks, knocking her towel to the floor, kissing her again as his pent up feelings burst inside his chest, exploring her mouth, entwining their tongues, caressing her face.

He felt her fingers at his waistband, undoing his button and fly..

“Scully,” he whispered against her mouth and her hand cupped his bare erection. Skin on skin. Pleasure surged in his nerve endings and throbbed in his veins. “There’s not a part of me that didn’t miss this.”

Fuck . Scully closed her grip around his cock and stroked the sleek hot steel up and down. Mulder breathed hard and Scully moaned.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said in a heady rush of impatience.

They kissed their way down the hall, Mulder almost tripping as he had to slouch as they walked to keep them from separating, Pulling off his shirt, hopping on one leg as he stripped off his pants.

The way Scully’s eyes widened when he took off his boxers and freed his cock made him feel ten feet tall. She gave out a warning when he removed her robe that “her body had changed,” and he replied as honestly as he could. “Scully, I’m harder than a male porn star on his first day of work. Yes, it’s because it’s you, but it’s also because you’re more beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on you.”

Scully’s cheeks blushed and her pupils dilated. He matched her smile, both of them recognizing how much was at stake, and how much they both needed this. She turned away from him and he helped her remove her robe. He combed the soft strands of her hair to expose her exquisite neck, trailing soft kisses up the sensitive skin, leaving a wake of raised flesh.

His hands traveled down her body, reacquainting with her new curves: her breasts, her waist, her ass. Soft noises released from the back of Scully’s throat as his fingers brushed over the inside of her thighs. Lust surged through him at the sound, and his length nuzzled the small of her back. Scully gripped the footboard of the bed.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Mulder, please, I want you inside me.”

Her insistence only made him grow harder, but he knew it wasn’t a sprint. “H-how.. What would be most comfortable for you?”

“I think on the bed, on my knees. I can hold onto the footboard, the headboard is a little too high, and if I lean forward… What?”

“Nothing,” Mulder said, but he couldn’t prevent the upturn of his lips. “It’s.. well, you’ve given this some thought.”

Scully lifted a brow. “During that second trimester, you have no idea.”

He helped her onto the bed and followed close behind, holding his hands at her waist. Scully spread her legs and his tip grazed her. Scully looked back at him. “Easy, Mulder.”

On her knees, and hunched forward, her ass in full glorious view, Mulder gripped his length, lined them up, and hesitantly pushed in.

“Oh God, Mulder,” he heard Scully moan.

Sharp pleasure bolted through him. “I know. You’re incredible.”

Easing back, slowly he pushed in again, a couple more inches before easing back again.

“More, Mulder,” Scully gasped, reaching back, her fingers finding his hair, tugging and twisting. “Faster.”

He was so worried about hurting her, but his excitement built and her tight, wet warmth around him only hastened it. He groaned and flexed his hips as another wave of pleasure hit him. She felt so good. The sight of them joining almost too much. This was Scully. They were finally together.

Soon they found a languid pace, her hips doing most of the work, him aiding her movement, pulling it out and letting her push back on him to the depth she craved. Until her knuckles whitened against the footboard. “God, Mulder. I really missed you.” Her walls pulsed and squeezed him tight and he groaned.

With a few light thrusts her body heated and swelled snug around his cock. It made them slide easier, faster. Scully’s jaw went slack as her eyes closed, tightening as she pushed back against him. Her breath was ragged and he could see her concentrating on her movements. It was intense and exquisite and the feelings produced inside him made Mulder moan louder.

He closed his eyes and tightened his fingers on her hips, losing himself in the feeling. Again and again, more and more. He missed everything about this. Her legs tensed and he felt her sucking him further inside. He remembered that feeling. She was close. A few determined thrusts and she cried out, her muscles pulsing hard and rhythmically around him. Mulder’s forehead leaned into her shoulder and he reached for the footboard, covering her hand with his as he shouted, pouring his soul, his love, into her.

“Scully, Scully.” He kept coming, for what seemed like an eternity. It left him spent and shaky. He had to catch himself for a moment, relishing in the feel, and calming his heart. “Everything okay?” As he asked her he could hear the deep octaves in his own voice.

“Mulder,” she breathed out and her blue eyes sparkled at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sated look on her face as she made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, he helped her back onto the bed.

They stared into each other’s eyes as they laid on their sides face to face. Scully softly caressed his cheek and he mellowed into the feeling of her fingertips across his stubble. He pressed his face into her touch, drowning in it. Mulder leaned over, his lips a breath away from hers, and he stopped to feel their familiar pull. An attraction like no other. Scully raised her face to his, brushing his lips lightly, coaxing him. He kissed her even softer in return, teasing her like she did him until her mouth opened and he could taste her. Scully moaned quietly at the contact. Not knowing exactly what to do with his hand, he used it to prop up his head, the other he ran gently into her hair, stroking it softly.

Without words she tucked her head under his chin, her nose nuzzling his Adam's apple. Scully curled into his torso while he rubbed her back, pulling her carefully towards him until the bump of her belly rested against his tight rippled abs. From through the window he could see the last vestiges of light, painting the sky in orange and reds. White contrails highlighting the color in soft wisps.

He was the only one she would ever consider marrying.

Elation washed over his body. I would marry you, Scully. And raise that baby as mine, no matter how it started its life.

As if he had said it aloud she stirred and opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead once more and returned her drowsy smile. Tugging the comforter over her, they snuggled into their cocoon. Scully’s eyes closed and she mumbled right before her breathing evened out, “Don’t go, Mulder.”

I don’t plan on it, Scully. Not ever.

Thank you @ms31x129 for all the beautiful fanart and your beta work

Thank you @today-in-fic for everything you do for us and the fandom

Tagging friends @babygirlmulder1018 @kyouryokusenshi @bbbway @kblackm @borogirl @dontunderestimateawoman @mulderandscullylover2016 @karinanic @motedeweatherly128 @didhehavealightsaber @scullllaaaay @radioactivefish @whyle23 @aquilla27 @justbeachy42 @jaina01 @muldermakesmehorny @season4mulder @tinydi0sa @ombradellaluna @agertiegirl @improlificinsarcasm @xfimnotdone @its-for-you-have-a-cigar @xfilesobsessed22 @edierone @sculderfan @meg4nnn @spooky-fox-1996 @wolfishlyintimate @yaraswhy @scullyfan43 @chippedcup @kiwiphroot @enigmaticxbee @ombradellaluna @furiouskidcollectorlove @catherine-08 @ednitag @pacyt @scully-yeah-run @danaedaniels @secretstarfishgalaxy @amyg2430 @rosedyl @postmodernpromartheus @borogirl @bakerstreetlady @rebecca @haya661 @themarybfiles @masha2341 @impulsive-astrophile @iwanttorememberhowitallwas @knowleitall-super-soldier @gchick1013 @gillywitch @baly87 @veromar23 @alienbaby-babymama @i-turn-to-stare @jaina01 @sandymans-world

#xf #xf fic #Road to All Things #txf fanfic #txf fanart #txf #xfiles #x files #mulder and scully #msr #xfiles fanfic #todayinfic

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