#feitan x reader

Chrollo

✦ ── It was typical for him to disappear for weeks to months at a time, with none of the Troupe aware of his whereabouts, doing who knows what. Except he always contacted you once a month to meet up.

✦ ── Different place every time, but always some kind of book cafe. He would meet you there late in the evening and update you on his dealings and treat it almost akin to a one-sided book club.

✦ ── This spot had a nice couch, and you took the opportunity to lie across it, head on one armrest while he sat at the other end, your ankles on his lap. He'd read aloud to you, even if he spotted you drifting off.

"Am I that boring?" Your leader mused, closing the book to rest his chin on his fist, elbow propped on the other armrest. You were fast asleep and had been for a few minutes now.

Once Chrollo was sure he had memorized your sleeping face, he went back to reading his book, held in one hand. His other toyed with the small chain around your ankle, an anklet he had gifted you long ago.

He wouldn't dare rouse you, nor would he let anyone else. Chrollo would sooner kill everyone in the shop if it meant he got an extra moment with you like this.

Feitan

✦ ── He's small. He's cold. He's uncomfortable. Feitan has no reason to believe you'd ever go to him for 'comfort'; he is a sea urchin of a human.

✦ ── So when he's reading, having just finished torturing the man bleeding out a few meters away and having gotten the intel he wanted, and you slump against him? Yeah, he's surprised!

✦ ── When you do wake up, you might catch him practicing some of the words from the book aloud. But once he realizes you're awake, expect his lips to be sealed and to be shoved off him.

"What doing?" He practically spits the words, harsh as always, and throws you a hard side-eye.

You're asleep. How? How on earth could you sleep like this, and with the victim's ugly sobs audible no less? Whatever. You can stay, only because you'd be no use to him deprived of sleep.

You're nice and warm, too.

Hisoka

✦ ── Are you sure that's a good idea? It's certain that he wouldn't shy away from contact or find affection gross, but he might not be the safest option.

✦ ── At least that is what anyone else would think, but you don't seem to care, because you're fast asleep with your back to his chest.

✦ ── Hisoka doesn't seem to care either; he just adapts. He pulls you closer so you don't slump forward and rests his hands on your lap instead. He can still shuffle, even with his arms around you, and he might try to build a card tower on your lap if you're still.

You were always direct with him, telling him to move his arms so you could plop yourself right between his legs and use him like a rest. Still, he didn't expect you to fall asleep.

"How amusing." He poked you a few times, but it didn't gain any reaction, so he continued practicing small card tricks in front of you, even if you wouldn't see.

He has his head resting on your shoulder so he can see his hands as he works and listens closely to every breath you take.

Illumi

✦ ── Always as stiff as a board, effective, and calculated. It's insanely hard to get close to Illumi because he always assumes one's actions are for the worst.

✦ ── But you're just so disarming. You make every effort to touch him—usually his hair—and never seem offended when he moves away; you just try again. So, Illumi decides it's a waste of time making space between you two.

✦ ── You can play with his hair, poke his needles, and fall asleep on him all you want. It's not like it brings him any harm, and why would it matter what you did?

You make him feel weird, and you always do strange stuff, but at least you're predictable while you sleep.

It did leave you vulnerable, though. He thought you were being stupid for resting on him when he could so easily kill you. He would not, no, not ever, but he could.

Illumi is used to being still for hours on end, and so he will amuse your antics for the time being by staying still and allowing you rest. Assassins do not need friends, but allies are good to have, right?

Machi

✦ ── Machi keeps her distance from everyone, even those she likes, just to be sure she's ready for anything unexpected. That, and it was harder for the others to tell who she liked.

✦ ── But when you two are alone, she stands close, like a guard dog. You want to sleep on her? Yeah, okay, she won't hold still for you, but she'll let you.

✦ ── God, you're so in the way of her sewing that she has to run her arm around your waist so she can get around you and keep working. So annoying.

"Seriously?" She mutters under her breath, scoffing at your ridiculousness. There was a bed not more than a few meters away, and you still decided this was the best place?

Who cares? You can sleep wherever you want. So long as you don't ruin her project or tell anyone about this, she'll let you rest.

Pakunoda

✦ ── She was friendly, sweet, and alluring. You always commented on the captivating scents of her perfume oil, and she always tried to find one you'd like more than the last.

✦ ── Given she always has the relaxing aura about her, especially with you, it seems to finally slip beyond a pleasant feeling into something so gentle you get real tired around her.

✦ ── Paku watches you fall asleep in real time, and she gently guides you down until you're resting with your shoulders and head on her lap. She won't touch you any further, but she will admire you.

It was late, and they were still waiting on the rest of the troupe to arrive. Pakunoda methodically polished her revolver, counting each bullet as she locked them in place.

Below her working hands was your resting face, head cushioned from the floor by her thighs. Her eyes traced you every few minutes, making sure you showed no sign of discomfort.

When it was time to wake up, she'd give you a quick kiss on your forehead and nudge you until those pretty eyes opened.

Phinks

✦ ── This cocky asshole may act like he's nothing but a fighting machine, but he cares. Yeah, he cares a lot actually, and you're his soft spot.

✦ ── You could tell him point blank you're going to sleep on him, and he'd let it happen, but he's glad you did it unexpectedly because he can play it off as if he isn't happy about it.

✦ ── He'll wrap both arms around you and hold you close, lie back so you can rest comfortably on him, and do his best not to move too much.

Thank god there was a couch nearby when you fell asleep, because without his track jacket he'd have frozen if you'd both stayed on the floor.

That very jacket is pulled over your shoulders like a blanket, and he's holding you close to steal some of that radiating warmth you let off. His expression remains cold, almost annoyed, but he's still holding on tight.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood." He says it knowing you won't hear it, mostly to rationalize his affectionate actions as nothing more than chance.

Shalnark

✦ ── Out of anyone, he's most likely to have fallen asleep on you before, and he's always opening his arms to envelop you in a hug once he knows you'll accept it.

✦ ── So when you finally make yourself comfortable, curling up next to him and resting the side of your head on his lap, he has to stop himself from celebrating.

✦ ── There is no shame; Shalnark will let his hand play with your hair and touch your face. He wants to feel you, and it seems to soothe you into an even deeper slumber!

His fingers were careful not to mess up or tangle your hair as he carefully brushed through it, moving his hand to trace the outer edge of your ear and follow your jaw where his thumb could caress your cheek.

Your soft breathing was a sign that he wasn't being a disturbance, so he kept going. Mindlessly memorizing the dips and plush parts of your face while he listened for any small noises you offered.

"Sleep as long as you like." His voice was more soft-spoken than he expected, a smile making its way to his lips. You really did mess with his feelings, huh?

Shizuku

✦ ── Not the kind to initiate contact, but also not the kind to shy away from someone else. She is quiet and a great companion for sleep if you want to be watched over the whole time.

✦ ── Shizuku is pretty certain you've never just passed out against her, though. She was sure she would remember something so meaningful! That's why this is such a big deal.

✦ ── Stares at you the whole time and wonders aloud what you might be dreaming about. She'll ask questions, even if she knows you can't answer.

"Are you asleep?" Her eyes peer at you through her glasses, though the answer is obvious when your breath is moving so slow and you give not an inch of a reply.

"Did you not rest well last night?" This time, her hand lifts to hold the side of your head and pull you against her more, making sure you're at least a bit more comfortable.

"If it's okay, I won't wake you up." She could, but she doesn't really feel like it. She likes you anyways, so you should make sure to sleep extra long so she can enjoy it!

Uvogin

✦ ── Ah, yes, this is certainly not the first time you would have fallen asleep on him. Uvo is big, warm, and well-cushioned. He naps all the time while being forced to wait on orders, too.

✦ ── But in the middle of a mission, while you're in the getaway car and being chased down? He barely feels it when you lean against him, but when he tosses a glance your way, he can't help but chuckle at your carelessness.

✦ ── You're moved to his lap, both to make more room for the others and so he can shield you from any stray bullets or if the car takes a tumble.

"You're crazy." He says it with a grin, because quite frankly he likes that about you.

Watching you rest as if you're in a safe haven, and watching you cling to him, is extremely amusing. You're nowhere near this clingy when you're awake, so he's going to savour it!

Even as the car comes to a screeching halt, you don't wake. So Uvogin takes it upon himself to sling you over his shoulder and fight one-handed! He's extra vicious because he's gotta make sure Sleeping Beauty gets her rest.

"What will I ever do with you?" "Can I keep playing with your hair?" "You'll do it regardless of what I say," he murmurs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

His breath is warm against your skin as he speaks, his words brushing against your ear like a whisper. "Yes, you can," he relents after a moment. Chrollo hums in contentment as you start to run your fingers through his hair, his eyes closing at the feeling. He nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against your skin. "You know, you're very distracting," he mutters against your neck, his voice muffled by your skin.

He pauses, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, his breaths warm and fast. "Very distracting," he murmurs again.

Bonolenov

His whole body stiffens when you touch his head; soft flick or no, he flinches, as though it's the first time someone has ever laid their hand on him. His breath shakes, and an inhale comes sharp, almost painful. Yet, he doesn't move away from you at all. Bonolenov stares at you.

"Don't…" He whispers. At your laugh, Bonolenovs glare transforms into something more hesitant— as if unsure of what to do with his face in response to your laughter. "Don't tease me," He mumbles, eyes flickering from your face to the floor. "No teasing." "Sorry, sorry." You keep softly laughing as you rub his bald head again. (Wtf am I writing) Bonolenov shudders again at the feeling of your hand on his head. He leans into it, slowly, a flower seeking the sunlight.

"You do this on purpose," he mutters. Despite his protest, Bonolenov can't seem to look away from you, or stop you from touching him.  He shivers ever so slightly every time your hand moves over his head, and he still hasn't moved away. In fact, he's almost… pressing his head against your hand.

"Or is this a ritual from your tribe?"

Dalzollene

Dalzollene stirs slightly from the gentle motions of your touch, tilting his head up, almost as if seeking to lean against your hand. Dalzollene blinks slowly, eyes half-lidded. He makes a soft, sleepy sound, a low hum that is more of a content hum than anything. He's half-asleep, completely at ease and utterly lost in this moment. "You're overworking yourself." You whisper as you carefully take a seat on the desk he's resting on. Dalzollene's eyes flutter as he tries to focus in on you more clearly.

"I am simply doing as I should," he says, his words slightly slurred from sleep. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, before he blinks up at you again. "I have to—" his words interrupt themselves with a yawn, "—work." "Neon is draining you." Dalzollene frowns at the mention of her name, but he can't find it in him to speak against you. He knows it's true, even if his job means he has to spend most of it within a few feet of her.

"It is… tiring," he admits, trying to be subtle about his slight disdain for the woman. Dalzollene's eyes shut again as you run your fingers through his hair, his body relaxing further. "This is… nice," he murmurs, the last word coming out more as a hum than a spoken word. "Your hands…" His head tilts into your touch.

Feitan

Your hands are in his hair and he would love nothing more than to melt into you. But his temper is getting the better of him, and he’s trying all he can not to show you just how good it feels.

“Stop that,” he mumbles, a bit testily. “Stop what?” You ask, as if you don’t know perfectly well what Feitan was referring to.

Your hands remain in his black locks, running your fingers through the smooth strands. He huffs and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore the way gooseflesh rises on his arms every time your fingers comb through his hair. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He snaps back, but his voice lacks most of its usual sharpness. “You mean… playing with your hair?” You ask, feigning innocence.

Even now, as Feitan is glaring up at you like a petulant child, you continue to brush your hands through his hair. Feitans eyes flash, temper flaring like a candle in the wind. He glares up at you, teeth snapping in irritation.

"I told you to stop," he says, a hint of a warning in his voice. "Or are you really that intent on annoying me?"

Franklin

"I'm sorry for your loss..." you whisper as you run your hands through his short hair, trying to comfort him. Franklin can feel your fingers combing through his hair, gentle enough to leave an imprint on his soul. "Uvo-" He blinks, his brow furrowing as he remembers who you are mentioning. "You don’t need to apologize."

He lifts his head to look up at you, and his gaze softens. "You have nothing to apologize for." He leans his head back, moving closer to your hand like a cat craving attention.

"If I’m being completely honest," he admits, his voice almost as soft as a whisper, "I think Uvo deserved it." He grins, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. "Don't say that," you say softly, "he was your friend, you loved him." "He *was*." Franklin closes his eyes for a moment, then sighs as you continue to play with his hair. "He was a friend, and a partner." The words are almost a hiss, a whisper of a curse on his breath.

"And he lost that when he laid hands on you." Franklins eyes are open again, staring up at you. "I didn’t like him as much as you think I did." He says, his tone blunt.

"He was a good fighter, and a decent person, but…" He’s quiet for a moment, and his eyes lower as he looks at the floor. "He tried to touch you. How could I forgive something like that?"

Ging

For a moment, he is still like a statue, then his lips curled into an agitated snarl and he starts to pull away. “Enough!” He snaps, swatting your hand away. "Dammit old man lemme brush your hair-!" You snap back. “No! No, that’s—“

Gings words stop the moment he sees the expression on your face. He gulps the lump lodged in his throat down and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You can brush it. Just— just make it quick…” While you work to untangle the mess that is Gings hair, the man grumbles and mutters to himself.

“I could’ve untangled it myself, you know,” he murmurs, his words a complaint more than a statement. “You didn’t need to do it for me.” "Stop pouting." "I am not pouting," Ging huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He glances sidelong at you, his expression a blend of annoyance and something else he doesn't want to admit.

"And for the record, I was perfectly capable of untangling it myself." "Uh-huh." With another grumble, Ging lets his head droop forward in defeat. He tries to steal a glance backwards at you through the tangled mess of dark hair before remembering that he's not supposed to look.

"How much longer is this going to take?... my neck is starting to ache..." "Till you fucking die." "That doesn't tell me anything," Ging mutters, his words clipped and quiet. The pain in his neck is starting to mount, but he's not quite sure how to ask you to be gentler. "Could you… try and be a bit… more… careful?" He winces, his shoulders involuntarily twitching as needles of pain shoot down his spine. "It… hurts…" "Manchild." "Women these day's, i tell ya."

Hanzo (you could totally play with his eyebrows tho, they look like lashes, what a queen honestly)

"Are you just bald or cant you grow hair at all?" You blurt out while you both cuddle. "Bald?" Hanzo flinches as you touch his head. There aren't words to describe the touch of your hand against his scalp. A shiver runs through his shoulders; he seems to be holding back, somehow. "Um, I…" He pauses, clearing his throat.

"I can grow it… if you wish." His voice is soft, like a child speaking up to their mother. "No." you laugh by the thought of him with hair. The look of relief that washes over Hanzo, you've never seen on anyone else. He sighs, shoulders relaxing into your touch.

"Good, I—" his voice cracks, almost as though he's holding back. "I'm not sure I want to grow it to be honest." "And I'm not sure you'd look good with it either." A surprised sound leaves him, almost like a breathless laugh. He shakes his head a little.

"I didn't think so either," he murmurs. "Not to mention! A good ninja never leaves behind traces!" he adds. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if in thought. When he speaks again, his voice is low, a murmured admission. "I like it when you touch me." "Hmm?" You hum, "You do?" Hanzos breathing hitches, his chest rising quickly with each breath. “I…” his voice is breathless, a strangled whisper. “I do.”

He shivers again, and this time he doesn’t try to hold it back. He just closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

Hisoka

His head is tilted back slightly, leaning into your hand as you play with his hair. Like some touch-starved little dog, he can't help the low sound that slips out of his mouth.

"Ah," he gasps quietly as he looks up at you. And yet, the smirk at the corner of his lips betrays him. "OH-! You didn’t...." "... I didn't just what?" He asks, eyes full of mischief. "Moan like that you slut-!" That makes him laugh. A soft, sultry little chuckle that sends a shiver through his frame as he grins up at you. He's utterly shameless, and he knows it.  "And what if I did?" He coos, raising one eyebrow up at you. "Will you punish me, baby?" "Whore." A huff of air leaves his mouth, almost a sigh, but not quite.

"Maybe I am." He grins, not denying it. "And maybe I want you to do something about it." Hisokas breath is knocked out of his lungs as you pull his hair, and another soft, desperate sound slips out of his mouth. He can feel his body heating up, blood flushing under his skin as he lets out a little moan.

"Ahnn...!" He shivers, eyes squeezing shut as your hand is tangled in his locks. "That's it I'm done." You say with a straight face and leave. "Leaving me all hot and bothered?" He pouts. "How cruel."

It's a joke, of course— but he really is rather bothered.

Illumi

The gesture catches Illumi off guard, and he blinks in surprise. The feeling of your fingers in his hair is unlike anything he has known before. For a second, it's like the whole world has stopped in order for him to experience the sensation.

He has to resist the urge to lean into the touch. "Why are you touching my hair?" he asks. "Am I not allowed to?" Your hand stops in his hair, waiting for his answer. You never know what happens when you overstep the assassin's boundaries. Illumi almost stutters, but manages to respond in his usual even tone.

"You are allowed to do whatever you please," he murmurs. "It's just… I am unaccustomed to the sensation." "Did your mother never do your hair?"

"No." He doesn't look up as he says it, his eyes focused on the floor. "She didn't. I used to do my own hair from a very young age." "Not even maids?" “No.” The answer is short, sharp. Illumi takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay still as you continue to play with his hair.

“Mother said that my last priority should be my hair, my first is to make the family proud and train. Maids weren't allowed to either talk to me or touch me.”

"So that's why it's so long." You laugh, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood. "What does that have to do with the length of my hair?" "....Nevermind"

Kite

"You…" Kites voice has a tinge of awe in it that only comes out when you are together. It is late. The sky is a canvas of stars. He sits next to you, so close that he can feel your warmth. His eyes are closed. Your hands glide through his hair, untangling some of its knots with a gentle, soothing touch.

"You would…" A brief pause, as if he cannot bring himself to ask. "...stay here with me?"

"Looking at bugs for a whole month or longer? Yep, with you always." You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. A huff of laughter escapes him. As always, he is powerless against the light you bring to his mind, the warmth you give him when you are near. "A month…" he murmurs, repeating your words. The corner of his mouth quirks up in the smallest smile.

"You'd spend a month in a forest watching bugs with me?" "Romantic." His smile widens into an actual smirk. As he glances at you, Kite cannot help but think that you look the most beautiful when you are like this— lighthearted, carefree, at peace. He is entranced by the way you look in the moonlight. "Romantic, hm?" He shifts a little closer, until his knee is grazing yours. "...you’d think watching bugs with me is romantic."

"I can imagine better things, but I won't complain." Kite's smirk only grows. He is close enough now that his body is almost flush with yours. He reaches a hand up, resting it against your waist, tugging you just a little closer. His voice is low, deep, but there is an element of playfulness to his expression as he looks at you.

“You won’t complain?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you in a challenge, "That's a new one." "EY-!"

Knov

Knov doesn’t react when you reach for his hair, though his body jolts ever so faintly as you touch him, his eyes staring up at you the entire time. "Ew-!" you withdraw your hand.

His voice is very different when he replies to your exclamation, though, his voice taking on a hint of annoyance. “What?” He asks, brows furrowing. "The gel, it's ew." You scrunch up your nose. Knov's expression is a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment. He looks like a puppy being told off for eating its owner’s shoes. “The gel isn’t supposed to be touched. It— it’s supposed to help control it.”

He reaches up and tries to pat his hair back down, which is only slightly successful, with a few black wisps falling back down to cover his forehead once again. “It isn’t supposed to… feel like that,” he says, still mumbling to himself, trying to fix his hair back into the pristine fashion it had been a moment previous. Then he looks up at you, eyes searching for approval.

“Better?” "When you wash it later, I wanna play with it." Knov's face turns a slight red color at your request. He’s still fiddling with his hair, trying to get it to behave. “You… want to play with it?” He repeats, like he can’t believe his ears. "Mhm!" His face heats up once more, the red flush spreading to his ears. “Ah…” His fingers stop trying to fix his hair, leaving it messy and unkempt. He looks a little disheveled, especially when compared to the perfect image he always has in public. “…sure.” He says, as if he can’t refuse anything you say.

Knuckle

"It's surprising how it stays up..." you mumble in slight amazement. His hair is surprisingly soft under your touch. He lets out a gasp at the motion, almost like a puppy who wasn’t expecting to be pet. "It.. it does that," he stutters out, face going pink. Knuckle is utterly flustered, but far from annoyed at the touch. "I… I don't know how it stays up."

"...you style it every morning tho." "Ah… I…" he falters, realizing that he's been found out.

"I use a little bit of hair gel," he admits, like he'd just confessed a terrible sin. Knuckle looks up at you through his eyelashes, face still flushed. "More like a whole container." Knuckle flushes a deeper shade of red. His mouth opens for a moment, wordless with protest, then he sighs and looks down at the floor.

"Fine," he mutters, his hands clenching into fists. "I may use a bit more than just "a little bit" of hair gel…but only because my hair keeps falling back down otherwise!" He adds, a slight defensive edge to his voice. "And if I'm not always perfectly presentable.. I-"  he falters, biting his tongue before he says, "I just…" He looks down, refusing to meet your eyes.

Finally, he looks back up at you and admits, "I can't look anything but perfect when I'm next to you. Not even a single hair can be out of place." "Awww baby." Knuckle blushes at the pet name, but doesn’t protest when you begin playing with his hair. He even leans into your touch, craving your closeness as if it was the only thing that would make him whole.

Kortopi

"It's so tangled..." you mumble as you brush his hair, the small male sitting between your legs. Kortopis eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as you brush through his long hair. He tries his best to keep still, a slight shiver rolling through his body. He's never been a fan of people touching him so intimately. With you it's a different story tho.

He'll hold still as long as you like. “Please be gentle. I don’t… I’m not used to this.” He whispers the words, eyes still closed.

The feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair and across his scalp is almost dizzying. Each brush of your touch sends a shiver down his spine, his breaths leaving his parted lips in soft gasps. "Am I too rough? I'm sorry." You quickly apologize. “No, no.” Kortopi is quick to shake his head at that, a hand lifting to reach hesitantly for your leg.

“It’s just… it’s a lot.” He mumbles, eyes fluttering open. He looks up at you, cheeks reddening a bit. “It feels nice. Keep going.” He can’t explain the feeling he gets from you just playing with his hair— the way that the slightest brush of your fingers makes his stomach clench and his heart flutter.

No one has been this gentle with him before. No one ever bothered to look at him with any form of compassion in their gaze.

He leans into your touch, his grip on your leg tightening when you scratch ever so slightly across his scalp. "I don't wanna overwhelm you." “It’s okay,” he says quietly, almost breathless. The feeling of your fingers against his hair, your touch against his skin, it almost makes him dizzy. He reaches his hand up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist as he guides your hand back down, silently asking you to keep going. He closes his eyes again, leaning against your leg.

Kurapika

A shiver passes over Kurapika, but he does not look up from the pages of his book. "You're playing with my hair," he notes, a simple observation. "I am," you say as your fingers slide through the strands. You twist a few around your fingers and pull slightly. He tries to keep his focus on his book, but the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his hair is quite distracting. You feel more than see the effort Kurapika makes to keep his attention on the words in his book, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

"You're making it difficult to read," He says, but he makes no move to pull away from you. "That's the point," you reply, a light chuckle in your voice. Kurapika grumbles and makes an attempt at turning the page, only for one of your hands to tug on his hair again.

This time, he makes a soft noise and sets his book down, closing his eyes and sighing. "Why do you do this to me?" His voice sounds almost mournful, but there is a sense of joy in his words. It is almost as if he were grateful for the situation he has found himself in.

His hair is tousled from your ministrations, messy and disheveled. It is a sight that is both attractive and adorable. "Because I like to see you this way," you reply, still lightly pulling on his hair. The action makes Kurapika shiver. He turns to look up at you, a mixture of defeat and happiness in his eyes at the same time.

"This way?" He repeats, voice wavering faintly, "Disheveled? Frantic? Utterly distracted?" You nod. "It reminds me how cute you are." Kurapika lets out a huff, his cheeks growing a little warmer.  He tries to school his features into a frown, but he can't help the corners of his lips from twitching upwards.

Leorio

The touch of your fingers through his unruly black locks soothes Leorios mind. He leans into your touch, the tension seeping from his muscles, and his eyes flutter shut. He lets out a low, almost inaudible sigh, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. He's silent for a long moment, simply enjoying the gentle ministrations your fingers give to the hair around his face.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and quiet, as if not to disrupt the peace that's settled over the two of you. "You are too good to me," he whispers, his eyes still closed. He slowly reaches up to take your hand. He pulls it from his head and instead places a firm, lingering kiss upon your knuckles.

His thumb caresses your skin, the pad of it tracing little patterns against the back of your hand.  "You've been so stressed lately so i-" "You are much too generous to me," Leorio mutters into your skin. His grip on your hand is tight, as if he's worried you'll pull away.

His eyes flick open, and he looks up to meet your gaze. "You do not have to be this kind to me. Yet you are. You are too kind, my God," he repeats, the words quiet and reverent. He lifts himself up, resting on his elbow as he looks down at you. He brings your hand to his chest, holding it just over his heart. His free hand reaches to cup your face, his touch gentle yet firm.

He brings his face down to your ear, and the sound of his next words are as soft as a whisper. "Why do you have to do this to me? Why do you have to be so damn good?"

Menthuthuyoupi

You stare up at the big guy, "can I try something?" Menthuthuyoupi blinks, then gives a firm nod.

No matter what you say or ask for, he will do it without question or complaint. He has been yours since the first moment he laid eyes on you. "Can i play with your hair?" "My hair?"

Menthuthuyoupis voice is quiet, bewildered. Never in his long weeks of life has anyone asked to touch his hair before. "You… you can." He tries to keep himself still, but his body is tensed up. It takes all of his willpower to keep from leaning into your touch.

"Does it… is it good?" He can't help but ask. "Does it feel strange?" Yes. Yes, it is. "Yes," he says bluntly. "Didn't even know i had hair." "What?!" A small huff of irritation. Menthuthuyoupi shakes his head. "Now I know have hair." His hand reaches up to touch at one of the red locks, wrapping it around his finger and giving it a small, harsh little tug.

"I've just never…" he continues, pausing as if he isn't sure how to say what he means. "I've never been taking care of it." "Figured, it's greasey as hell."

Meruem

His eyes snap up to your face as you drum your fingers against his skull. He frowns for a moment— the barest twitch of his lips down.

He doesn't quite register what you are doing, just that your fingers are against his skin. Meruem is silent for a single heartbeat, and then he tilts his head into you, leaning into the touch. That touch makes Meruem pause, tilting his head back to give you a look, one corner of his lip lifting in an almost smirk.

"And what makes you think you can do such a thing to me?" Meruem asks. His voice has a hint of challenge to it, like he's testing you. "I just can." You smirk, knocking on his head. Meruem's smirk grows, and he lets out a soft laugh. There's no sarcasm in his voice, just a hint of amused disbelief.

"And that makes you think you're above me?" He asks, the challenge growing with his smile.

"Above the great king? Everything of course." Another laugh. Meruem shakes his head, letting out a breath as though he can't believe what he's hearing. He's not bothered or annoyed— far from it. Amusement is written all over his face as he looks up at you with a wide, wolfish grin. "You think you're that powerful, do you?" He muses, still with that hint of challenge in his voice. "My love for you is." That makes Meruem pause, looking up at you for a moment. That hint of challenge turns to surprise, and then that surprise fades into a soft, warm look. His smirk is gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a small smile.

"Is what?" He asks, voice much softer. "Love? The strange pulling in ones heart? What we talked about?" "What we talked about, yes." "I doubt your pulling compares to mine."

Morel

"Ey old man! Come here!" "Eh? Old man?" He sputters as if the very notion offends him."I am not that old," Morel protests. "How old do you believe I am?"

"100?" "One hundred?" Morel stares at you incredulously. His eyes narrow. His shoulders tense up. For a short moment, it looks as if he’s holding back a snort.

"You think I am a hundred years old?" "You have white hair." You run your fingers through his hair as he sits down. "That does not mean I am old," Morel saya. "It just... means my hair is white. It always was." He falls silent, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. "You wouldn’t ask others with white hair their age, would you?" "I was just joking." The admission seems to soothe his wounded ego a little bit. "You could have used a more believable number,” he mutters, but there’s hardly any heat in the words.

"For your information, I’m not a hundred. I’m not even close to that old." He huffs, rising to his feet and dusting off the dirt from his clothes. "Not that it matters either way,” he adds, giving you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. "I don’t suppose my age matters to you, my love," Morel says, the reverent title slipping easily from his tongue.

“I could be a hundred or thousand, immortal or not, and still,” he stops suddenly, eyes fixed on your face as the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he swallows, as if suddenly unable to find the words. “I would still be yours...and i know you like em older anyways.” "Ey-!"

Neferpitou

"No one? Ever?" You asked in disbelief. Neferpitou leans ever so slightly into your touch, enjoying the soft feeling of your fingers against their hair. No one else has ever done this.

"No," they murmur, "never like this. No one ever touched me like this." "What a shame...it's pretty." The corners of Neferpitous mouth twitch, something like pride swelling in their chest at your compliment. Your simple words mean everything to them. Praise from you is more valuable than all the riches in the whole universe.

"You flatter me," they say quietly, although there's no attempt to deny it. Not only is their hair pretty, but so are they, and they know it— but they also know only you can tell them that. "Hmm, maybe." your lips crack a smile. Neferpitou stares up at you, eyes burning like fireworks. They're not blind— they know you're teasing them. Your smugness is something they adore. All of your expressions are so unique, from the look on your face when you're fighting a battle, to the curve of your lips when you smile, all the way to how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh. Humans are interesting. You especially.

They know exactly what you mean, even if they're not willing to admit it. Neferpitous expression is mischievous, their tone bordering on dangerous. They won't admit it out loud, but they do love playing with fire. Especially when it comes to you. You're a feisty little inferior species.

"Don't smirk, my human," they murmur, leaning closer until they're a mere breath away from you. "We both know I'm more than just pretty."

Netero (me and my eyebrow or bald jokes in this post are wild)

You can't help but feel slightly upset, "Damn...why'd you cut it?" A soft sigh escapes him as you ask why he cut his hair.

“It would've gotten in the way, and it became difficult to manage,” he murmurs in response, his eyes still closed as he drinks in the feeling of you touching him. “Plus… it will grow back,” he says. For a few moments, Netero remains still, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, until he opens his eyes and looks upward at you.

“Are you really that fond of it long?” He asks,  in his voice, as if he’s worried he disappointed you by cutting his hair in the first place. "You could've at least cut your eyebrows." You add with a smirk. Netero rolls his eyes dramatically, but even the small action isn’t enough to disguise the soft, flustered look on his face. “You know I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s mirth behind his words. “Unless you want me to run around with no eyebrows at all.”

"That would be a sight." You imagine. “I’d look absolutely ridiculous,” he says, but the way he’s grinning gives him away. "And you think you looked better before, old man?" Netero shoots an unimpressed look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he knows you’re only teasing him. “You’d rather I looked like a caveman?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "You already d-" Netero cuts you with an indignant scoff at your comment and, for a moment, looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he stops, a small smile twisting his lips.

“Oh, quiet,” he says, his tone holding no bite. “I may be older than rocks, but I’m allowed to care about how I look.”

Nobunaga

"Washing is an option, yk?" "I know that," he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. He shivers slightly under your palm, his body as sensitive to your touch as a rose to sunlight. "I've been busy," he clarifies as you play with his hair, trying to come up with a good reason to escape your chiding. "I don't have time to bathe, is all."  He lets out a sigh, leaning into your touch like a kitten against a hand.

"And it's not that bad," he says, though his voice falters slightly— he knows he's lying. "Yeah sure." You smirk. "I've been sweating!" Nobunaga protests, as if that will solve everything.

"That's not my fault." He mutters, but when you tug lightly on his hair, he shivers again. "Relax." You calm him down. "I can't relax," he hisses, his eyes snapping open to glare up at you. "Not when you're—" He cuts himself off, his gaze suddenly shifting away as his cheeks flush. "I'll wash it for you later, okay?" taking care of a mess like this men is actually fun activities in your book. Especially when you can see him flustered. It takes a moment for his brain to process your words.

Nobunaga blinks, lifting his head from your hand to stare up at you, his mouth falling open.

"You—" a beat, "—you'll wash my hair?" You can practically see the smoke coming from his head. Nobunaga blinks, once, his mouth slowly falling open again as he processes what you'd said. His throat works silently as he grapples with the situation.

"You…" the word comes out faint, almost a whisper, as he tries to grasp what you're offering. "You'd… wash my hair?" he finally manages to get out, his face already starting to tint pink. "Yes?" "I—" he starts, hesitating as he tries to form a sentence, his thoughts flying to every possible meaning and implication of your words. Finally, after a moment of silence, his face completely flushed red, he manages to utter a response.

"I'd like that," he whispers, voice barely more than a sigh, though his words speak volumes as to how badly he wants you to do this.

Pariston

"It's so smooth?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. With all the products he uses you were almost sure his hair was like hay. He leans into your fingers, closing his eyes, a satisfied hum escaping his lips.

"Of course it is," he mumbles back, pride and arrogance dripping from every word. "After all," he continues. "I keep it that way for you. Gotta look good for my girl." His head tilts into your hand, seeking more of your touch. You can't help but roll your eyes at him. "What?" Pariston asks, his eyes opening. He lifts his head just to look at you, a single eyebrow raised.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, I'm being sincere," he says, tone a mix of amusement and mock-offence. "Since when." "Oh, always." He says, sitting up a little straighter. He leans back on one of his hands and grins. "You just don't notice because you never pay attention to me," he retorts. "I think..." He speaks slowly, fingers dancing over the top your other hand. "I think you're just cruel to me. That's what it is," he says decisively.

"You have no idea," he continues, his tone going from teasing to serious for a moment, "how much I adore you, and yet you treat me so callously." He fake pouts, a frown on his face, but you can see his eyes are dancing with mischief. "It's very insensitive of you." He admonishes you, his fingers moving over your skin.

"You should feel very guilty for treating the person who loves you more than anything like this," he admonishes, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips.

"And the person that finances your very being."

Phinks

"No," Phinks insists, pulling a little away from you. He scowls, crossing his arms at his chest. "Just… No." He won't let you ruffle his golden locks. "Why?" You whine slightly. "I don't want you to ruin it," he protests, running his fingers over his hair. He glares at you as his perfectly styled locks get mussed. "It takes hours to make it look good." Phinks frowns, his hair tousled from your touch. He combs his fingers through the messy blonde strands, trying in vain to return them to some semblance of order.

"I don't understand why you always have to touch my hair," he complains. "You're just like a child, always grasping at what the world has to offer without regard to the consequences," he says, still combing through his hair and trying to keep it away from you. "You have the impulse control of a three-year-old."

"But you love me." You smile innocently. Phinks can't help but soften a little at your words. He lets out a huff, his shoulders slumping as he gives up on his hair. He can never resist you.

"Yes, I love you," he admits, running a hand through his hair one last time. "Now, don't ruin my hair or I'll punish you." He doesn't sound all that threatening. In fact, you can imagine a hint of a smile flickering at his lips as he glares at you.

"If you make me look awful, there will be consequences," he says, though you suspect he's more likely to give you a kiss than actually punish you. He lets out a quiet sigh, running his hand through his tousled hair one final time before admitting defeat. He's fighting a losing battle— his hair is messy and sticking up at all sorts of ungraceful angles, and he's only going to undo any progress he makes by touching it. With a huff, he gives up, looking back at you.

"You're going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that?"

Pokkle

Every time you even think of coming near his hair, he looks up at you like a frightened doe. "I'll bite your hand, you know," he adds, though it is a very empty threat. "Why not? Shy?" You tease. "I–It's a mess." Pokkle protests, lifting a hand up and attempting to tame some of the messy locks of messy hair. He quickly gets frustrated however, huffing as it just flies right back in his face. "Besides… You'll mess it up…" "Can I at least brush it? Make it better?" Pokkle bites the inside of his cheek, looking down as if contemplating.

He remains like that for a few moments, thinking it over. He can't deny he wants you to touch his hair. That much is obvious. He's simply very stubborn, and won't say it.

He mumbles something under his breath that sounds vaguely like a reluctant yes. He turns around, presenting his back to you. His hair hangs messily over his shoulders.

His spine is ramrod straight, almost painfully so, and he’s clearly trying not to look over his shoulder at you. He's expecting his hair to be pulled, not brushed. He stays completely silent once you begin to brush his hair. He is still as stone, like a statue, but you can almost hear the sound of his mind racing even when you touch the brush to his hair.

He doesn’t look at you the entire time. In fact, he appears to be trying so desperately not to look at you that it’s like he’s fighting a losing battle with himself.

"Good?" Pokkle is quiet for a few seconds. He seems to have to collect himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to process what's just happened.

Finally, he nods, answering your question in a single word. "Good."

Razor

Razor doesn't question your request for a moment. If you want to, he will allow it. His head dips down, allowing you better access.

"You may. It's yours." "...its so short." you mumble. "I never let it grow." Razor responds, then lets out a quiet little hum as you play with the strands of his hair. It is indeed short, just barely long enough to play with. His neck twists a little, tilting to the side as you ruffle his hair. Razor is surprisingly pliant at your ministrations.

"You like to play with it, I take it?" He asks, a touch of amusement in his tone. "Meh, it's alright." Razor lets out a quiet scoff, the corner of his lips twitching.

"Only 'alright'," he mutters, but there's a hint of a smile in his words. "Just say you like it." He leans closer to you, head tilting down to look at you. "I know you like it," he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You love to play with this short hair. Admit it."

"Hmm,...no." Razor snorts. "Why not?" He murmurs, leaning in a little more, so his head is resting against your leg. "It's short and soft. I can tell you like it, don't lie." Razor lets out another quiet scoff, though it is not meant as rude. He is too comfortable to care how he sounds. "Your hand is still in my hair," he whispers, tilting his head a little more to give you better access.

"Admit it, you like it." He smirks.

Shaiapouf

Shaiapoufs head is leaned against you, his eyes closed as your fingers run through his golden locks. He shudders at your touch, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he finally opens his eyes and speaks.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment. "Hmm, nothing." Shaiapouf raises an eyebrow, glancing up at you from his place beside you. He smiles a little mischievously as he leans into your touch. "Just playing with my hair for no reason, then?" He teases. Even through the weariness in his voice, there's a hint of mirth there, like he wants to see how you'll respond. "Yeah." "Liar,"

He laughs, reaching up and grabbing your wrist, moving you hand back to his hair. He gently guides your fingers through his locks once again, his eyes closing, a soft sigh falling from his lips. "You just want an excuse to touch me, don't you?" Shaiapouf rolls over, laying himself against your side, head resting on your shoulder, his body pressed against you like a shadow.

He slings an arm around your middle, pulling himself close. "Gods, you're warm." He mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Shaiapouf hums contentedly as he cuddles against you, feeling the heat of your body seeping into his skin. He pulls you closer, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly.

"You're soft," he murmurs, his breath warm and ticklish against your cheek. "So soft..."

Shalnark

The feeling of you sitting in his lap makes Shalnark hyper aware of you. He tries to stay focused on the computer screen, he really does, but it’s hard to when you’re playing with his hair.  “What are you doing…?” He asks, swallowing thickly as his eyes dart from the computer to your hand in his hair. "Playing, like you." You mumble, keep playing. He lets out a slight huff, but there’s no annoyance in it.

“Are you trying to make it difficult for me to concentrate?” He asks, giving you a light smirk. “Not that I would want you to stop,” he adds as an afterthought, his voice growing softer.

Despite his words, Shalnark still continues to try and focus on the computer screen rather than on how it feels when your fingers glide through his hair. After a few moments, it becomes too distracting. Shalnark lets out a small huff, his fingers resting on the keyboard, unmoving. He turns his head a bit to look at you. A light flush has dusted his cheeks; his gaze almost seems a bit petulant, but there’s no real annoyance in it.

“You are doing this on purpose.” "Noooo." Shalnark gives you an unconvinced look.

“Liar.” He mumbles, tilting his head back a bit. The bare expanse of his neck shines in the cold light of the computer screen. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft sigh as he feels your fingers running through his hair again.

“I know you’re too smart to do this unintentionally.”  Despite his words, he can’t hide the way he relaxes with your hand on him.

Shoot

Shoots eyes slip shut as you touch his hair. It's been a long time since he's felt the gentle caress of your fingers against his scalp. You would think this would be enough to soothe him, but his chest still rises and falls quickly, his breaths uneven and choppy in his chest.

"Thank you," he stutters, trying to control his breathing. "Your touch feels like paradise," he whispers, almost so quiet you can't hear it.

"Missed it?" You laugh as you keep braiding his hair. He nods, feeling the gentle tug of your fingers on his hair. Shoot opens his eyes and looks up at you, his gaze unfocused. His head is foggy and hazy, his mind slipping away as you continue to braid his hair. "Yes," he admits, voice quiet.

"Yes, I missed it." "So...the mission?" Shoots expression darkens a little when you mention the mission. The mere mention of those words turns his mind to memories he would rather forget. "It was complicated," he confesses, watching your fingers move through his hair. "The mission…"

He pauses, his eyes growing a little distant. "...It did not go as well as planned." "...oh." "It was…" He falters. Something in Shoot shifts, a change in the air; as if the very atmosphere around him has grown darker. His mind drifts back to the mission, replaying the events of the past few days.

"There were... issues," he states, trying to keep his voice steady. "Obstacles. Setbacks. It was not the success we were hoping for."

Uvogin

Uvogin ducks his head to avoid the brush once again, a quiet scoff leaving him.

"I can brush it myself," he mutters, and reaches up. His hair is tangled and messy after spending most of the day without his hair being brushed — but he doesn't like having others run their hands through his hair for him. He can do it himself.  "Do you even know what a brush is?" you ask as a joke. Uvogin narrows his eyes at the words, a quiet huff leaving him.

"Of course I know what a brush is," he says, and snatches the hairbrush from you, holding it with an almost possessive grip. "I'm not an animal." Uvogin mutters something to himself— probably something about you being annoying— but he sits down and starts to run the brush through his long locks.

He looks like he is struggling. A lot. But he won't ask for your help. His pride won't allow it. "I can he-" "No."It's a short, quick answer. Uvogin immediately shuts down any offer you may have had before you can even finish speaking. He's stubborn, and he doesn't want to ask for your help— even though he very clearly needs it.

It's a sight to behold, the brush sticking in his hair and him struggling to brush it through. You walk up and hug his back. Uvogin stiffens at your sudden embrace, but he doesn't try to push you away. He continues to struggle with the brush, until he finally— begrudgingly— lowers his hands.

"Fine," he says, and it's clear it pains him to admit defeat. "You can do it."

Wing

Wing practically melts under your touch. His head rests against you like a pillow, and he hums in contentment as you play with his hair. He is warm, his chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm. "Tough day?" A heavy sigh escapes Wing. He nods, just a fraction, his face pressed into your chest.

"Yes." His voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want to speak too loudly, in case it breaks this perfect moment. He pauses, hesitating, his eyes closing as he listens to your heartbeat.

"You make it better," he confesses, the words whispered into your skin like a secret. His breath is gentle, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he relishes being this close to you. After a few moments, he shifts, wrapping his arms around your waist in a hug, and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"Being with you is my favorite part of the day," he admits quietly, breathing deeply of your scent. "Then I'm glad..." Wing nods his head, nuzzling into your chest a little more. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough for even you to hear. His body is flush with yours, his chest pressed against you. Every breath he takes, every rise and fall of his rib cage, you can feel against your own skin. Wings arms gently tighten around you, his grip almost desperate, like he’d die if he was torn away from you. "Love you too..." Wings hold on you tightens when you return the sentiment. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and lets out a shaky breath.

“Say it again,” he whispers, a hint of pleading in his tone. The words are uttered as a near demand.

Chrollo

He tries to be unbothered. He really tries.

You wake up wrapped around him like a vine, arm under his shirt, leg over his hip, and your Nen has accidentally summoned like… some sort of ability.

Chrollo simply resumes stroking your hair like nothing happened.

Secretly finds your sleep-hugging adorable but would never say it. Keeps his arm around you protectively all night.

If you sleepwalk, he will calmly follow behind you like a babysitter. 

Pakunoda

You slap her with a pillow in your sleep once and she just lies there with a hand over her eye like 😑.

She sleeps pretty light, so the first time you clung to her like a body pillow, she was stiff as hell- completely unused to being cuddled.

After a few nights though, she starts letting you wrap around her. She never asks for it, but she’ll rub your back gently when you latch onto her.

She’s absolutely fascinated by your unconscious use of Nen.

Nobunaga

You're flailing, kicking, and talking in your sleep while he’s trying to nap and he just sighs so loud like: “THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You end up curled on top of him one night, drooling on his chest and muttering about pasta, and he lowkey melts a little.

He starts to get used to your chaos. “Tch…damn brat,” he mutters as he tucks a blanket over you and pats your head.

Will 100% tease you about it the next day in front of everyone. “She fights in her sleep harder than half you bastards do awake.”

Machi

Wakes up tangled in her own threads because your Nen activated mid-dream and she had to thread you down to the bed to keep you from flipping off the mattress.

Acts pissed. She's always acting pissed.

But she always ends up being the big spoon anyway because she knows you settle down when you’re being held.

Will knock you out with acupuncture points if you’re sleepwalking too far. Not malicious- just efficient.

Quietly likes how much you cling to her. Won’t say it out loud, but her fingers always stay curled around your sleeve while you sleep.

Shizuku

She sleeps like a corpse, so when you roll over and wrap around her like a heating pad, she doesn’t even move.

It’s actually kind of perfect. You wiggle around like crazy, but once you latch onto her, you stop.

Sometimes she wakes up with you full-body draped over her, snoring into her neck, and just blinks like “oh…okay.”

One time your Nen activated and destroyed a lamp across the room in your sleep and she didn’t even flinch. She just pulled the blanket over your head like “cozy time.”

Bonolenov

You accidentally elbow him in the chest and he just reverberates with a hollow “bong.”

You keep ending up tangled in his wrappings and muttering apologies.

He thinks you're fascinating. A human with chaotic, instinctual Nen? That’s beautiful to him.

He sleeps like a statue, but he’ll gently adjust your position if you look uncomfortable or are about to fall off the bed.

If you hug him, he holds you close and hums lowly. The sound calms you down- even mid-sleep.

Franklin

This man is a fortress. You roll into him mid-sleep and bounce off like a sack of potatoes.

If you somehow manage to crawl on top of him, he’ll just lay there and go back to sleep with a faint “mm.”

Your chaos does not faze him. You’re yelling in your sleep, gripping his arm like a lifeline, and he’s just snoring away.

He likes it though. It’s rare for him to be someone’s comfort object, and you make him feel safe in a weird way.

Kortopi

This poor creature is NOT used to sharing a bed.

The first time your Nen lashes out in your sleep he has a panic attack.

But you clutch him like a teddy bear and mutter something about his fluffy hair, and he just malfunctions like: “...ok 🧍‍♂️”

Eventually, he creates a copy of a pot or something to switch out with when he needs to go sleep in peace, but he always comes back to you in the morning.

Feitan

This little demon child kicks back if you hit him in your sleep. It becomes a nightly war zone.

“Tch. Move… again and I’ll cut your toes off.” (He will not. He lets you curl up beside him every night.)

One time you sleepwalk into his torture tools and he physically carries you back like a grumpy cat.

Secretly adores how warm you are. When you cling to him tightly, mumbling nonsense into his hoodie, he pulls you in tighter under the covers and watches you sleep with unsettling fondness.

Phinks

Gets mad every time you elbow him in the ribs, but still shows up to bed like clockwork.

“Sleep on your damn side- HEY! STOP MOVING!”

Deep down he finds your neediness cute. He starts sleeping with an arm already waiting so you can snuggle against his side.

He’ll grumble about it in front of the others, but if you stop cuddling him, he’s sulky and weird the whole next day.

Uvogin

You body slammed this man in your sleep and he thought it was hilarious.

“HAHAHA you’re like a little gremlin!” he says while holding you in a death grip so you don’t fall off again.

You flail all night and he just lies there like a brick wall. You can’t phase him.

You drool on his chest and he acts like he’s grossed out, but in reality he lets you use his arm as a pillow every night.

Shalnark

Thinks it’s the funniest, cutest thing ever.

“You almost punched me in the face last night- do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Starts installing little gadgets around the room to track your sleep movements because he’s genuinely curious.

Loves when you wrap around him like a little baby koala. He starts sleeping shirtless so you’ll cling even tighter.

Sleep-talking? He records it and plays it back for fun, especially if you say something about loving him.

Illumi

Is genuinely baffled by your behavior. “Why are you not unconscious and still?” he asks while poking your cheek.

Tries to pin you down with needles once. You fling him across the room in your sleep.

He’s intrigued. He starts studying your sleep-Nen with clinical curiosity but eventually gets weirdly possessive over being your cuddle buddy.

You cling to him like a security blanket, and it makes his heartbeat flutter in a way he doesn’t understand. He likes it.

Hisoka

This man is horny about it. You cling to him in your sleep? He’s making the dirtiest comments in the morning.

“Mm, such a needy little thing, even while dreaming~ What exactly were you dreaming about, my dear?”

If your Nen lashes out, he’ll just giggle like it’s a fun game. You accidentally sock him in the jaw? He licks the blood and says, “Encore.”

LOVES that you cuddle him. He wraps himself around you like a spider, legs and arms everywhere. You can’t escape.

Abducted and tortured for information

Pain

🌧️Pain at this stage is for you nothing more than a mystery. A shadow in the streets with his presence not detectable yet still omnious. In Amegakure he is hailed as the savior and the judge at the same time though no one can truly attest to whether he is true but only a myth created to scare the crowds. Indeed, you too don't know whether he is real or not. What you don't know is that whilst for you he may be nothing more than a fearful hush on the streets, for Pain you are very real. Don't you sometimes get the feeling that you are being watched even though no one is there? Don't you sometimes imagine a shadow behind you that vanishes the moment you turn around? You are being watched constantly as you have a strange grasp on Nagato's heart yet with his body barely holding together, he can only protect you through the bodies of Pain. All too familiar with the feeling of loss though, you are closely monitored at all times. Threats and minor inconveniences are taken care of with brutal efficiency as Nagato eliminates all before it could escalate into any danger for you. He has learned from the past that the world is cruel and unforgiving so mercy is a good not needed for his vision.

🌧️​Yet despite close surveillance one day you simply vanish. He cannot detect you any longer in the rain. Pain is unable to find you. Konan fails to trace you with her paper jutsu. Panic fills Nagato's chest, a familiar tightening around the hole left behind by the loss of someone important. His breath that already fails him at times gets cut off and the moment Konan returns with a look of failure on her face he shortly loses grasp of his control. His quiet and hoarse voice starts talking too fast and too much for someone who rarely uses it anymore, resulting in a coughing fit where Konan has to walk over and calm him down. A few things are obvious immediately though. You could not have left on your own, meaning that another person must have been involved. Whoever it was must have known about him or otherwise they wouldn't have worked so efficiently to escape without leaving any trace behind. There was never any reason to believe you knew you were being watched but whoever took you knew. Nagato fears the worst. That you have been taken to serve as a leverage against him. His mind takes him back to that day where Konan was taken and Yahiko took his own life. Not again.

🌧️​What follows after is a terrifying hunt. Nagato is no longer the boy from back then. Konan is no longer that girl she once was. The death of Yahiko and the years that followed have desensitised them. The vision they share have dulled their empathy and the deaths that have piled up for it serves a greater purpose. Nagato doesn't get the Akatsuki involved for this is a personal matter that he himself sees as his responsibility to solve. When Pain discovers the hideout you are kept in, there are no chances he allows for the culprits to plead. He murders all but one for he needs information to figure out how they knew and if there are others still involved and alive. The problem needs to be burned by its roots after all. All of that before he even finds you and sees the torture you were put through because they thought you had information you didn't possess. Pain doesn't show anything, it is Yahiko who panics when he sees what has been done to you. There is no comfort he can give you through Pain though. So you are only untied and lifted up, too weak and dehydrated to walk on your own. You don't know where you are being taken. You only hear Pain stating in an absolute voice that from now on you will be safe.

Sasori

🦂Emotions are nothing more than a liability in Sasori's eyes. Humanity is a flaw that he has believed to have rid himself off a long time ago. Yet then you have to appear before him like a curse of the very life he has rejected. Initially it is your beauty that stirs his interest. It is such a shame to think that you will wither away so soon. But maybe he can do something against that. In Sasori's eyes he is offering an act of mercy to you as he starts watching closely, memorises every inch of your body so he may replicate it truthfully. Yet as he starts practicing and eventually stands above the limp body of a puppet made to be your image, something is terribly off. It shouldn't be. Sasori only ever strikes for perfection yet what he has just made, even if it isn't the final work, is an insult to your beauty. All the meassurements and the colour of your skin, your hair and your eyes are flawless yet it is still lacking. Why is that? This already has Sasori spiraling quiety as he starts observing with a brooding intensity. The answer doesn't give him any closure. In fact it only undoes him more. The very beauty that has so utterly entranced him lies in you being alive and human. He cannot replicate that.

🦂​With that you become his greatest obsession and torment. He wants that beauty but he will lose it if he transforms you into a puppet. Sasori doesn't tolerate failure, especially not now that he believes to be so close to perfection. Yet before he can make up his mind about what to do with you now, you are taken. And Sasori? He gets affected by the abduction. Not in the way a human would for he is no longer one. This? It is yet another failure for he was so focused on you that he did n ot pay attention to his surroundings and noticed that others had discovered just whom he had his eyes on. In his mind Sasori has already claimed you as his so now this is far more personal than it normally would be for someone laid hands on his masterpiece in the making. Perhaps the lack of feelings is what helps him for he is able to focus and scheme without ever panicking or his mind scattering. The goal is clear and Sasori knows just as much what he plans to do with those who dared to steal what belongs to him right from under his nose. His pride has been scratched and the very fact that someone dared to do this is only another insult for they believed they could get away with it. Such disrespect has to be punished.

🦂​As it is a matter of pride and as Sasori doesn't need anyone else finding out about you, he does it all by himself. Mostly to teach the young ones what it means to dare to underestimate him. A small part though needs to prove something to himself too as the very fact that they even succeeded is something that should never have happened in the first place. Everything is claculated. The few seconds of fear that lingers before he poisons them to observe the fear and hear the pleas of mercy before they die with the deepest regret and fear that they ever dared to test him. He's indifferent to your obvious fear when you see him for the first time, or rather Hiruko. Yet he steps out of that puppet and walks over to where you are tied up, brown eyes taking in the damage they laid on you. That is no way to treat a beauty of his. There is maybe the briefest hint of his eyebrow twitching as a wooden hand cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing over a nasty cut on your lips. Whatever plans he had with you, now they need to be delayed. As long as you look like this, he cannot do anything with you. However, he will make sure that from now on no one gets the chance to steal you away from him again.

Deidara

💥Deidara is much more of a social creature than his brooding partner is. His obsession is very much like the explosions he calls his greatest art as well. It's loud and it has his heart shaking. He is almost immediately smitten with you and he is neither shy nor careful about it. In fact he approaches you almost immediately whenever the chance is there with an infatuated grin on his face. The only smart thing that he ends up doing is at the very least shedding his cloak when he approaches you to hide that he is a member of the Akatsuki for now. Then again, with the way he constantly blows things up he isn't doing an excellent job to hide the fact that he is a criminal with a love for bombs either. His passion is hardly hidden either though as he creates fireworks that spill your name in the sky so you are either incredibly dense and refuse to believe that he is serious or you fail to see the deeper obsession that goes off for you at any time of the day. The more you deny that though, the more extreme Deidara becomes in return to have you acknowledge his feelings for you. That entails even more firework and more explosions. He screams his devotion whilst you cover your ears.

💥​With all that he is doing it is hardly a surprise that the wrong people take notice of his feelings that are truly everything but subtle. All that they have to do is wait for the perfect opportunity before you are taken away. Deidara stays in denial for quite a while about it. At first he believes you're just playing a prank on him but the more time passes, the more volatile he grows. Eventually he blows up your house and other homes soon follow as if he believes doing so will push you out of your hideout. Yet when there is no sign of you and he is left in the middle of the smoking remains of a village, he is finally forced to confront other explanations. As a man who operates on delusions he cancels out the possibility of you running away so the only possible conclusion he is left with is that someone must have taken you. And that is not funny. Really, not at all. There is no grand plan though. Not if you count blowing up everything in his surroundings is. Deidara just threatens people he comes across as he completely drops any subtle act he has hardly possessed in the first place. It'll all work out somehow in his mind. And surprisingly enough it really does.

💥​You hear the screams and explosions, breathe in the scent of curling smoke and burned flesh before Deidara kicks open the door to the cell where you have been chained up and tortured. That optimistic grin he has on his face turns all wrong when he lays eyes on the way you have been treated into something much more angry and violent. Still, he is all sweet reassurances and kisses when he unties you and helps you outside the basement. Outside there is only carnage that awaits you. One of them is still somehow alive and tries to crawl away, wheezing through a bleeding face and punctured lungs. All Deidara does is laugh and unleash a clay spider on him that ends the job and leaves you feeling forever horrified and traumatised. Not that he notices. None of them ever deserved mercy in his eyes, especially by taking you away from him. Outside there is already a large clay bird waiting and he eagerly helps you on it, promising to give you a real show. High in the skies with the wind howling around he keeps that promise as he blows up the entire surroundings, erasing all traces of what happened down there with a bright grin and a sweet promise that now he will keep you properly protected.

Chrollo Lucilfer

📖Chrollo is the master of masks. The greatest pretender of them all as he can mold himself to fit in perfectly and fool everybody. There is no shame to be felt as you too fall initially for the act of this man. It is hard not to get pulled in as he is charismatic and knows exactly what he must say and do to swoon hearts when information is needed. Yet there is no mission around when the two of you meet and there is no need to get so close to you. Yet you remind him of gravity. Whenever you are around his heart and body seem to get pulled closer and instead of it disturbing him, it deeply fascinates him. This fascination is much more damnatory than anything else could ever be for you. Because the moment Chrollo notices something that intrigues him, he doesn't just observe it. He obsesses over it so that he may understand it and with no heist planned you are made the sole object of his intrigue. Around you he feels something he probably has never truly experienced before. It's a taste of something unique and precious that no gold or diamonds could ever replicate and so Chrollo makes the decision to keep you for himself. Around you he feels like he has a heart and one has to keep his heart close, right?

📖​It is a grand feat to steal from a thief like him and the tiniest part of him acknowledges that when it turns out that you have been abducted right under his nose. That despite the Phantom Troupe keeping an eye out for him on you. Yet it changes little with the fate that will await those who dared to steal the heart beating outside his chest. Chrollo acts immediately but not irrationally. His spiders are all in and he knows that. Chrollo doesn't operate alone and that makes everything much more efficient and also much more terrifying. Shalnark manages to track you down and locate the place where you are kept in and Pakunoda manages to retrieve vital information from one of the culprits they capture before he is succumbed to a cruel death. Throughout it all Chrollo reminds terrifyingly calm and composed though. There is more at stake than there has ever been before and somewhere within his chest he even feels that but his emotions have never been the kind to burst out. He arrives with the grace of a king at the hideout before he turns to his spiders. His orders are clear. He wants the leader barely alive for more interrogation. But otherwise? No survivors.

📖​The place becomes a blood opera in a matter of minutes. A symphony of screams and death fill the building all whilst Chrollo calmly walks over corpses and crawling bodies. It is only when he breaks into the cell where you are being kept that some emotion flickers on his face for a moment. He sees the blood on your body and the injuries inflicted by people who didn't know how to handle you with the care and worship you deserve and a look of ice appears in his eyes. But eventually he gentle kneels down and frees you, his hands all soothing touches and his voice all soft promises of protection and revenge before he carries you outside. You have heard it all whilst you were stuck within but now you actually see it and it terrifies you. Chrollo senses it and shifts you in his arms, murmuring for you to close your eyes. You do. Not only because you don't want to see but because he feels like the only reassurance you have right now even if you know that he is responsible for all of this. There is indeed only the leader left alive though not for too long if you had to guess. None of that will be something you will ever have to witness again though. That's what he promises. You believe him.

Feitan Portor

☠️Feitan is one brooding and quiet mess already. A sadist who only ever feels loyalty for the Phantom Troupe whilst other life is of no meaning for him unless he can torture them. For him to catch feelings, as twisted and messed up as they may be, is a catastrophe already in the waiting and just waiting for the final catalyst. From his side there is only festering resentment though. Those feelings? To him they are worms that have infiltrated his chest and no matter how hard he might yank, they only snake deeper into his heartflesh. There is this very dangerous period where Feitan gets close to murder you in cold and cruel blood more than once as those feelings destabilise him dangerously. He wants to lash out on specifically you but he is unable to do that. So instead he lashes out on other people, whether they are innocent or not. Still, he does not allow you a peaceful life after what you have done to him so he leaves threats written in blood behind or voice mails on your phone where you can only hear hoarse breathing from the other side of the line. He relishes in the fear and paranoia he inflicts on you as he views it as fair payback after what you have done to him.

☠️​And just when he believed that you had been the most stupid person he had ever encountered, someone even more stupid just had to come along too. What competition is this supposed to be? Yes, Feitan despises you but that doesn't change that he has already established you someone only he is allowed to torment and torture. Yet someone believes that they can just grab you and threaten him? As he stares at the recordings of the security system Shalnark has kindly provided for him, he doesn't know what he should be more furious with. The fact that people now start to believe that he can be emotionally guilt-tripped like a fool or the fact that they feared him so little when pulling through with their abduction of you. That fury simmers for painful minutes inside of him as he watches the recording loop from start to end over and over again. Until it finally breaks out of him and leaves him cackling there in ways that would terrify others to their bones. Because it doesn't matter. He knows what to do. He will storm this place. He will murder all of them except maybe keeping the one alive who annoys him the most for some fun later. And you? Oh, he will chain you up in his basement instead.

☠️​Feitan storms into that place like a fury incarnate. It's murder on sight. And every time his blade slices through flesh and muscles and every time he hears the pleas and screams of agony, he gets more and more entranced. He taunts. He laughs. One time he even grins which has those spotting it running before they too suffer the same fate as the other bodies laying in puddles of blood. It is the one who rushes to your cell and threatens to end you that Feitan immediately deems as the one he will keep alive for just a while longer. Their fingers are gone before they can even process it and the scream of horror they let out is silenced when Feitan grabs their head and slams it against the wall. And as he stares there in his black coat and with a bloodied blade in his hand, he can see how you start shaking in terror at the sight of him. That's good. Means he won't have to teach you all over again to fear him the most. His rasp voice mutters quiet curses as he frees you before he yanks you up by your hair, demanding you to walk as he drags the unconscious body with him. They barely tortured you in his books. Not like they'll ever do it again. No one besides him does anything to you. You're his.

Tsukinami Carla

🔮You are being considered as his potential wife who will eventually carry his heir and continue his bloodline. Not because you are strong or skilled. You are only human after all. By all accounts nothing more than food for someone like Carla. It is a different fact which has him even considering to take a mortal as his wife and it is one that isn't build on logic in the slightest. No, it is something so utterly ridiculous which has Shin cackling when he first figures it out. Carla feels something whenever he sees you. A dead heart that should belong to no one stirs within his chest whenever there is so much as a trace of your scent in the air. Golden eyes analyse and inspect every twitch of your fingers and the way your lips curl the moment you are within his vision and even in quiet moments you dare to infiltrate his mind. Carla never expected to ever fall for the same foolish disease that inflicts humans in their short lives. Shin probably cannot help himself but mock his older brother for falling in love only for Carla to silence him with one quiet warning. He cannot let go of you. That would require a selflessness he has never possessed and so Carla decides to make you his.

🔮​Yet perhaps he simply considered for too long instead of succumbing to his instincts immediately. Because you are stolen just when he has made the decision to make you his wife. Oh, Shin is having the time of his life when he finds out. Carla on the other hand locks himself in his room. Not to grieve. That would be too human for him. No, to scheme. To strategise. To locate those who laid hands on what he has just decided will be his and to plan how to punish and murder all of them in ways they deserve. He doesn't want Shin's help nor does he really require it. Not with the power that he holds. Carla isn't even angered with you. As a human there is nothing you could have done but that only proves why you will need him and his protection the moment he has retrieved you. In fact he isn't even insulted that other forces now try to use his attachment to you as bait against him. He has accepted his feelings for you at this rate and harbors no resentment or anger. No, his wrath is solely directed at those who believe they can steal his spouse away from him and be foolish enough to believe to witness the next sunset. He will make all of them pay to leave a clear message to never touch you again.

🔮​There is no commotion. There are no screams. There is no explosive and brute violence. That is beneath Carla. In a way that makes him much more terrifying though. The people who have captured don't even get a chance to run or beg before all of them are erased. There aren't even bodies left as Carla uses magic to not leave anything behind. By the end of it all it is as if none of them have ever existed. There is only one alive though Carla has made sure that he does not speak unless he is being asked. From him he retrieves all the information he needs before that person too vanishes into the nothingness they have always been. Only then does he retrieve you out of the cell you are being kept in. No blood on his hands or clothes. No bodies that could fuel your imagination. Instead he appears before you like an angel sent to rescue you and all of that is a calculated pat of Carla's plan as he takes you with him and nurses you back to health. Because in your eyes in that moment he is the hero who saved you from the savages and the quicker you start adoring him, the sooner he can claim the sole spot in your heart and mind and make you his utterly and completely.

Tsukinami Shin

🐺Shin is a dangerous man. He sees humans as beneath him. As little toys and snacks that he gets to abuse and use freely as he is something better than they could ever dream to be. So when you catch his interest you may as well start counting the last few days of your life that you will end up enjoying as soon enough your life will belong to him. And you better believe that he will have all the fun with it that he can squeeze out of you. You though? You won't have so much fun anymore. In Shin's eyes you become his favorite toy which he always prioritises but not with care and tenderness but sadism and cruelty. He may not immediately take you but he is already playing his twisted little games with you long before you know what he is. He sends his wolves chasing after you, he breaks into your home and even attacks those important to you to break you down and have you cry for him. It all serves as the sole purpose so you may keep him amused and entertained as he has zero remorse and probably laughs in the fact of your tears, demanding for more from you with a grin only a true psychopath could give you. Your entire life becomes hell.

🐺And yet someone snatches you out of his grasp, leaving him clutching empty air. Carla merely reminds him that this is his own fault for Shin has been far too careless with you yet the younger brother is for the first time not feeling quite as carefree and amused as he does mostly. Don't misunderstand. The grin is still on his face but it is twisted with mad fury and disbelief. Seriously? Someone thought they could just take his favorite human toy away from him? For what purposes exactly? You know what, it doesn't matter. Because now they have a problem and Shin will make them pay with blood and tears. There is little Carla can do to remind him that he should make a plan first before storming blindly away but he knows that his little brother wouldn't listen anyways so he just lets him do as he wants. This is Shin's mess to fix after all. Shin immediately lets his wolves track down your scent which they are very familiar with as they have hunted you down for fun multiple times before. Shin meanwhile twists a knife in his hand, mind already racing with all the ways he can and will make each person responsible suffer. He plans for no survivors. None of them are of any use to him.

🐺​He announces his presence boldly and loudly and relishes in the mixed expressions of shock, panic and fear on all of their faces, your included, before he creates hell on earth. His wolves tear those they catch apart and purposefully kill the bodies slower to prolong the pain and suffering. Shin assaults them with his knife and stabs them over and over again without going for death blows. He sets some of them on fire and watches as they scream while they burn alive. He laughs and cackles in amusement as people cry and plead and beg yet he gives mercy to none. Some of them he might promise it only to ultimately send his wolves after them. He puts on a show especially because you are there and are forced to listen and watch it all. By the time no one is left there to survive he walks over and kneels in front of you, cutting you free. He comments how he doesn't like how others touched and harmed you because now you remember their pain instead of his. He might even lick a bloody cut or two and sigh in disappointment because you bleed so deliciously for someone who isn't him. He kicks a corpse on his way out and you swear you hear ribs crack as he does. He killed one hell to bring you back to his.

Kibutsuji Muzan

🩸Once upon a time a human himself, Muzan has long since shedded any attachment he has to the life of one. Perhaps he never had any to begin with. He certainly holds no regret over having lost his own so long ago as it finally freed him from the shallow and frail shell he was stuck in from the moment he was conceived. Humans are food and at the most potential foot soldiers when injected with his blood but never anything more. Your life on the other hand? It threatens him in such insignificant yet simultaneously significant ways that offend him even though he tells himself that it shouldn't. Throughout his entire life Muzan has never loved anyone. He has had wives and he has had people warming his bed but never before has anyone gotten as close as him forming something akin to attachment for the only person he truly cares about is he himself. Yet here you are, swimming within his mind and stealing his focus and attention away from the sole goal he has had for centuries now already. So many times already he has been close to odering his demons to kill you only to pause and hesitate. That hesitation is always enough to make him call it off.

🩸​Up until now Muzan has been in denial. So when he finds out that you were taken by humans who know of the existence of demons and his existence and want to use you for information, he should let go. After all you don't know anything about him as you aren't even aware that has been watching. It is almost as if the universe tests him by giving him the chance to forget about you and move on as he has been the one blaming everyone and everything except his own heart. Yet what does Muzan do instead? He summons one of his Upper Moons and orders them to retrieve you and to kill everyone who has been involved in your abduction. He doesn't let go. Not at all. Instead he strives to get you back in his hold and is only after the Upper Moon has disappeared to track you down that he has the time to process that he could have just let you be but actively chose against it. He has no way out anymore. There is no denial left anymore yet still he doesn't take it gracefully. He decides to keep you as soon as you have been brought to him but he doesn't plan to be gentle. If you, a mere human, truly have this much of a hold on him then he has to rip the leash out of your hand have you subdue to him instead.

🩸​Muzan doesn't get involved in freeing you himself. That much would be beneath him when he has so many paws who will do it for him with a simple command from him. Perhaps he believes it would be too much of a sign of vulnerability if he himself were to appear and free you. In his world it would stand for weakness and the chance of exploitation. But he waits. Every minute is a minute too long for him and when the Upper Moon eventually does bring you with them, they do not receive any praise from him. Instead they receive his anger because they took so long but he lashes out especially once he takes in the sight of your damaged and bloody body. It doesn't matter to him that this damage was inflicted to you before the Upper Moon arrived and that it wasn't their fault as the humans tortured you for information. All Muzan sees is that something belonging to him was damaged and he had no control over it which is in his mind reason enough to lash out in anger. He excuses the Upper Moon after they have regenerated before he finally turns his attention to you. Look at you. So weak. So frail. You should be on your knees and thank him for the fact that he extends his mercy to you by taking you as his pet.

Akaza

👊For Akaza you are a precious and beautiful flower that he has decided to guard so that nothing and no one can ever dare to rip you our and trample on you. He is the silent guardian that watches over you at night and keeps other demons who lurk too closely away from you. The secret admirer who leaves bouquets of flowers or gifts that he stole from others at your door or on your window. Even though he is a demon there is a certain reverence that Akaza exhibits when he thinks of you. He believes that you deserve to be treated with tenderness and care and those who do not treat you with that reverence he expects of them are either killed or scarred and frightened forever if they should be women. You don't know who he is but you are aware of his presence in your life even though he remains invisible to your eyes. Nevertheless, Akaza makes you feel protected and that knowledge alone is motivation enough for the Upper Moon to keep going. Sometimes when you're already asleep he dares to peek through your window and watch you sleep, always quietly swearing to never let anyone touch even a strand of hair on your head wrongly. Not as long as he exists.

👊​But then one night he returns to find your house empty. Only the faintest traces of blood linger in the air and he immediately identifies that the scent belongs to you, accompanied by a human scent he does not recognise. Still, that is all that Akaza needs to pick up to piece the rest together himself. Someone took you whilst he wasn't there. He failed. It's anger together with grief and guilt that rapidly fill his veins and chest. He doesn't lash out within your house. It holds too many precious memories of the times he watched and stalked you. So instead Akaza breaks outside. Tree barks splinter and an entire section of a forest is obliterated in his rage and pain which he expresses through violence. Only after does he feel somewhat less angry. He is far from calm. Not with the knowledge that you have been taken away from him. But now he focuses fully on the hunt. Akaza will trace you across the entire continent if he has to do so and he certainly won't rest until he has saved you. Out of guilt for failing the oath to protect you though he starves himself on purpose, punishing himself until he has made up for his previous failure. He will enjoy the flesh of those who touched you wrongly.

👊​When Akaza has finally located you after nights of endless searching, he can smell what they have done to you before he even sees it. The scent of illness and blood fills his nostrils and before he knows it, he starts attacking. The demon who normally enjoys battles so much doesn't laugh or smile once. He breaks bones and rips spines apart out of rage. The cowards dare to run away when they spot him with bloody hands but no one will escape him tonight. Not after what they have done to you. Once all signatures of life besides your own have died down Akaza rushes to your side. The guilt on his face is obvious the moment he finds you in the condition you have been left in all because they thought you could give information you did not have. He goes down on his knees, lays his head in your lap and whispers quiet apologies and guilty confessions of failure before he frees you and takes you far away from this place. That night serves forever as a reminder though that he has to become even stronger for you so that something like this can never happen to you again. At the same time on that night you are abducted by him so that he may protect you better from now on and hide you somewhere.

Gyutaro

🟢Gyutaro is a man who is deep down deeply insecure and spiteful all because he is all too aware that people have always despised and hated him for his ugly looks and will continue to do so. In return he has started loathing all of humanity so his feelings for you come as a shock to him and he doesn't know how to deal with them. But he doesn't dare to show his face in front of you because he is anticipating the same look of disgust and fear that he has received so often before in his life. Nowadays he relishes in it as he takes pleasure in the terror he inflicts but thinking seeing that look on your face? It terrifies Gyutaro more than he cares to admit and so he asks Daki to spend more time with you so that he by some extent can be close to you without showing his face or body. She objects obviously but eventually she just gives in after Gyutaro has promised to do something for her. She doesn't see what is so special about you but Gyutaro leans in entranced when you're close to her. He gets rid of anyone who looks at you in admiration and in his creepy desperation he breaks into your house to sniff your stuff and feel somewhat close to you. On somedays you find a weird scent clinging to your sheets.

🟢​They don't know of Gyutaro. They are under the misconception that Daki is the one who is the Upper Moon and that she is the one who has such an interest in you when it is in reality Gyutaro who is telling her to do all of those things. Oh, humans really can always get so much more stupid. If they would have known that it is Gyutaro then maybe they would have never dared to even consider it to begin with. But that just means that he gets to kill and devour someone and relish in terror and fear. Daki openly tells him that she will not help him with this matter as this his problem. He is the one who is so creepily obsessed with you so you are his problem to take care of and not hers. Gyutaro decides to not argue with her and instead disappears to do exactly as she has told him to do. Whatever it is that is churning around within his stomach, he hates it though. It almost threatens to ruin his appetite but spite is ultimately always stronger. He knows that this will most likely be the night you will see his face and as much as that thought still frightens him, he decides that ultimately he won't care. After tonight you will be his whether you want to or not. Stockholm Syndrome is a thing, right?

When he saw you for the truest version of yourself despite you never losing the charisma; it was the only thing Gon could see. 

Rage, poison, bitterness, everything you saw yourself as. 

Gon never saw you that way, truly he tries his best to help you. 

He’s very expressive with his actions, words, he won’t do something he doesn’t mean. 

Whether it's trying to get you to express how you truly feel, or making sure he’s always there to protect you. 

Gon knows your life mission and he supports you, but he doesn’t want to watch you die trying. 

Scenario

Gon had invited you to explore the forest of whale island and considering you weren’t familiar with the area, he wanted to show you around. He had been in there more than a dozen times despite learning his lesson when a bear had attacked him as a child. That didn’t deter him from going back, now Gon was taking you for a quiet walk. 

He’s quite a talker and much sillier than you but it was comfortable. You’re not quick to act on how you feel at the moment, only doing what you know will be best for the long run. While he was, ‘That's tomorrow's problem, not mine.’ 

Still, it works wonders between the two of you. 

“Hey, You made it!” A voice called, head perked up at the sight of you. Gon rushed over to you, walking back to the edge of the forest but now with you. “Hey Gon! I wouldn’t miss it.” You laughed quietly, his excitement rubbed off on you the more time you spent with him. 

The spiked haired boy continued to walk next to you, talking about the randomest things. From how his day went to whatever popped up in his mind. 

You smiled and let him speak his mind, speaking when there was room for you to pop a question. Gon lit up when you spoke, answering your question and telling you more information than necessary. 

The grass crunched with every step, you assumed this grass had never been stepped on. Gon always found nice spots to take you so you didn’t doubt it was secluded. “You okay?” His head tilted, scanning your figure in the process. Your attention went back to him in a millisecond, the green of the grass quickly shifted into the green on his hair. 

“Yeah, What happened? You’re feeling okay?” You moved the question to him, nothing had happened to you. So something must’ve felt off or happened to him while you weren’t paying attention. Gon hummed with a subtle nod of his head, “I’m okay! I was asking you because well..” He lingered over your shoulder, head especially close to yours. “Because?” You repeated quietly looking over your shoulder at him. 

“You seem angry, I can smell it. It’s coming from you.” His nose grazed your neck, accentuating his point of it being you. 

“It doesn’t smell bad, does it?” Your eyes followed him, only seeing his hairs green ends. Gon stood straight, “No, It has its own scent like a type of nen except instead of feeling it, I smell it.” 

“That’s interesting,” He always did have a freakishly good sense of smell but was it obvious enough for him to pinpoint it to you? 

“Yes, I am angry but not at you.” You spoke up before he could, giving him the answer he already knew. “I noticed it when I met you, I never assumed it was because of me.” Gon smiled at you, scratching the back of his head. 

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you bit back a deep sigh. Not one of surprise, but instead one of relief. The words expressing your growing anger had never escaped your lips, or been brought up in any other way. Almost like something that should not be spoken of. 

Gon hummed, looking around seeing all the things being beautifully illuminated by the sunset. “Why are you angry?” His eyes still looked forward but his words were directed to you. “I’ve never seen you mad, at least not genuinely.” His tone was soft, though being quite reckless, he tried to think before speaking with you. 

“That’s a long story, we’ll talk about it another time. Is that okay with you?” You smiled. Not about your situation, but Gon was trying and it was clear. “Yeah! Just know I’ll be here. Alright??”

His pinkie extended to yours. 

Killua

Killua isn’t the type to express how frustrated he is, not on purpose at least. However it's visible with the way his eyebrows furrow and his scowl grows. 

You weren’t like that, you seemed so down to earth; at peace with the world. It took him some time watching to realize that wasn’t the case. 

The way you were passive aggressive with yourself when you were ‘alone.’ The slight head shake you gave when people called you kind, thanking them with grace.

It might've been the overpowering aura, that you couldn’t even hide yourself. 

Killua learned what had happened to you, and it was eye opening to say the least. 

He didn't know how to feel because truthfully he wanted his parents and his brothers dead. Alluka was the exception. 

He had seen and lived tragedies, but it was different to know things happened to you. You were the opposite, you didn’t want any of them dead. You would've given up your life if theirs was promised. 

Killua tries to do things with you, take your mind off or make you more at peace for even just a moment. 

Even offering to kill anyone of your choosing, Killua wouldn’t hesitate to contact his family with empty promises to make sure it was done. 

You never said yes, so he’ll stick around you to make sure you don’t get too hurt. 

Killua knows you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t want you to have to be strong all the time. 

Scenario

Killua watched you intently, waiting for you to make one wrong move. You had walked into the large room, and shut the door too aggressively. But that wasn’t why he was watching, not entirely at least.

You hadn’t done anything wrong from the moment he met you. 

Regardless of his attitude, snarkyness, and avoidance, that never discouraged you from talking to him. That stood out to him the most, you were kind regardless of how he acted. That didn’t mean you were just passive of how he acted, you scolded him like a child which he enjoyed deep down. 

Killua straightened up when he heard it, the cracks that came from your clenched hands. “You okay?” He spoke up with his usual tone but it hid the hesitancy he felt.

You looked back to where he sat, “Yes, I am. Are you okay?” You threw the question back at him, scanning his figure in the process. He approached whilst watching you right back. The same way you analyzed him to see what could possibly be off, was how he had been watching you. 

His hands found his pants pockets hiding the finger tapping he was actively doing. Killua wasn’t fond of being an open book to those who wanted to know how he felt.

“I’m fine. You just haven’t seemed okay recently..” He stood in front of you, it wasn’t a big deal in the slightest but carried such a heavy importance. 

“Huh?” You struggled to respond, but Killua tried his best. “Is it a person, a place, a thing?” He swallowed hard enough for you to hear, the way his ears flushed told you it wasn’t intentional. You smiled, shaking your head. “That sounds awfully familiar, a noun?” 

“I guess so,” Killua looked off to the side, “Well..?” His eyes couldn’t stay in a particular place, he was nervous. 

“Its complicated, but the short answer is that it’s a person. I suppose I’m getting less patient by the day, so I may seem angrier.” You spoke with an inimitable certainty, not speaking of it as shameful anger nor someone to be scared of. It was a form of acceptance. 

“A person..?” Killua repeated it the way you said it, not a question or a mere word. It was a statement that he couldn’t quite understand. Someone was making you angry of all people, the kindest girl he had ever met ? 

You nodded, “Something like that at least.” A soft sigh escaped you, closing your eyes momentarily to think. It would be hard to explain all of it to a boy of that background.

Killua still has feelings and emotions like any other, but he wouldn’t understand to the fullest extent considering how desensitized he was. “I can handle it for you-” 

“No, I can’t let you do that.” 

Killua reached deeper into his pocket, fishing out his bug phone. “Then, my dad or grandpa will do it. I’ll tell ‘em that I’ll come back home if they do.” 

You snatched the phone out of his hands, his whine followed immediately . “Let me help you damn it!” 

Kurapika

Kurapika finds comfort in how welcoming you are. The fact you whole heartedly understood his own anger, and didn’t see him differently.

 He feels like a monster at times, like he is undeserving of your kindness. Kurapika didn’t know you saw yourself as an angry girl when he saw you as the exact opposite. 

He’s used to your gentle touches, though he isn’t the most affectionate. He enjoys it. 

Your hands gripping the bottom of your shirt didn't go unnoticed by him. Nor was the more frequent trips to your prayer room.

The heavier footsteps weren't different from to the average person. However it wasn’t normal for you to do.

He was direct when questioning you, not wanting to wrongfully accuse you of anything. Kurapika learned and immediately understood your built up anger that was expressed in such subtle ways.

He saw himself in you, you tried your best to be kind even when your anger rapidly grew. Kurapika likes to ask you about your plans, seeing if they're similar to his. He knows he might die during his but he gets upset when you accept that fate for yourself. 

Not because he wants you to give up on revenge, Kurapika just doesn’t want you to feel as he does. 

His goal is to hunt down every member of the phantom troupe but he couldn’t say it didn’t shift to include helping you too. 

Kurapika felt even more so connected to you, he could relax knowing someone knew almost exactly how he felt. 

He’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you’re safe.

Scenario

Kurapika was getting busier by the day. The hunt for the phantom troupe was to say the least, exhausting. He was overworked, his duty of being the last kurta weighed heavier. Safe to say, he wouldn’t have been able to get up some of these days without you. 

He was grateful to have you by his side, and considered himself lucky to be by yours. 

“Are you doing alright?” You came from behind him with a cup of tea. Your fingertips burned, a red hue started to pick up. “You seem tired,” Your word choices were careful, and so was how you placed down the tea without a clink against the wooden desk. 

Kurapika wore a weary smile, “I’m okay, I’ll go to sleep soon.” His eyes drifted to the tea placed to the side of his papers. “Thank you.” 

He received a hum of acknowledgement, “Do you need help with that?” Your head signaled to the paperwork, some were actual paperwork while others were information on the troupe.

Strategies, plans, possibilities, location, “I may understand more than you know. Let me help you.” You insisted with your hands on his shoulders before you walked off, coming back with another chair. 

“You don’t have to, it can be very mentally taxing. I don’t want you to-” Kurapika was cut off, “But I want to, this isn’t a type of burden. It’s helping you besides you’ve had a massive workload recently.” You spoke up, your hand swept the hair from his face to behind his ear. “Better..” 

You sat with him, hearing him occasionally sip the tea you had made while the two of you worked on papers. You started with a small stack that held information on the scarlet eyes.

The Kurta massacre, no work necessarily had to be done on them but you still read over it. Kurapika had told you all about it when you asked, finally receiving a form of comfort on it. He had stayed kind despite going through so much, that was one thing you aimed towards. All of this just reminded you of how bitter you felt towards it all. 

Maybe he was angry too. 

“You’ve done a lot better than me, you’re one of the kindest people I know.” You broke the silence with a small comment that confused him to a degree. It seemed like a compliment at first, and it was. However, he caught on that there was more to it than that, you were actively comparing yourself to him.

What purpose did that hold?

Kurapika's eyebrows furrowed, “I’ve done better than you?” His attention was fully on you, the papers forgotten for what seemed like the first time today. “You’re still kind despite being given all the reason in the world not to be. When the people most important to me died, I couldn’t help feeling so angry.” Your eyes were still set on the papers in front of you, small black and white pictures with poor quality of the aftermath.

Your words sat long, marinating in the silence that had been built in mere seconds.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You aren’t what you think you are.” He spoke up with certainty filling the air. 

Kurapika won’t pry but he’ll do anything to make sure you get the revenge he yearns for too. 

Chrollo

Chrollo finds you quite charming, the honey practically dripping off of you with every move you make. 

This put aside, he knows how to act and look on command to be ‘likeable’ to an extent. 

He knew about your past, what made you who you were today. 

What brought you to be by his side, to be okay with sitting next to a criminal. 

You were kind, loyal, and so much more that he couldn’t name in one measly day. 

It intrigued him, human behavior and why you still acted this way despite having such a past. 

Chrollo didn’t enjoy seeing you degrade yourself, even mentally where he couldn't hear it. But he always had a way of knowing so he brought it up to you. 

He would expect your honesty and nothing less considering that’s all you’ve shown all this time. 

When you give the answer he expects, he’ll linger more often. 

Chrollo knows you’ll want to deal with this by yourself but he can’t help intervening. 

You’ll just have to forgive him for trying to take care of your problem himself. 

Or if you find out before he takes action, don’t agree, and insist you’re capable, he’ll stand by the sidelines to still be there if needed. 

Scenario

Chrollo had been staying in your vicinity, always a call away despite how busy life got.

Whenever you thought too long he was quick to snap you out of it. Not letting your mind wander for even a second. He didn’t do this with the purpose to bother you, but with the intention to keep your grievance from growing. 

The past you lived was one he felt partially guilty for, he had terrorized many people in such a manner. That wasn’t something he would blink twice about, it just wasn’t acceptable when it happened to you. 

Chrollo had a goal in mind that he planned to keep away from you entirely. Your blessing would not be granted if he asked to torment any one you had a vendetta with. It would be because you didn’t want to burden him with the troubles you were carrying, Chrollo couldn’t help not find it sweet. 

“Why did I find Shalnark searching for information on the murderer?” You had spoken so casually that it sounded like you were asking what he was craving for dinner. Chrollo enjoyed your pleasant voice, but he understood that you were smart enough to know a member wouldn’t do that unless asked to. 

“Love, can I not look for more information to help your hunt?” He smiled, trying to make it seem like he had only done it for your benefit. No ulterior motive in mind, not that he would outright want to tell you about. 

Your hand delicately held the door frame, grounding you to the room. “Is that the case?” You tilted your head with a questioning smile. “You would’ve told me prior if it were.” You didn’t outright accuse him of lying, just calmly stated your beliefs. Chrollo knew he would have to be truthful, it was hard to hide things from you. 

Chrollo stood up, walking over to where you stood. His fingers trailed down your arm until his hand intertwined with yours. “I didn’t want you to stop me. You’ve been getting more self-disciplinary in the most unhealthy way.”  

You didn’t pull away from his grip, instead finding comfort in it. He knew you like the back of his hand even with you being so reserved. Even if all the battles you were dealing with were in your head, he just knew. “Is it bothering you? If it is, I apologize for that..” 

“Yes, just not in the way you’re thinking of.” His thumb slowly grazed over your hand, “I’m worried for you, you’re truly wonderful. A blessing in other words, it’s bothersome to see how much this affects you.” He spoke with purpose, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

You didn’t have much words, only wearing a flustered face. Chrollo succeeded, he enjoyed making you a wee bit nervous. It was always amusing to see you thank him after trying to keep a neutral face when he spoke highly of you. 

“You’re too kind Chrollo..” Your head bow was interrupted when he held your chin. “You are,” Chrollo gave you a quick kiss on your forehead, “I’ll take care of this, please let me.” 

Feitan

Feitan found you to be quite the opposite of him. 

You were patient and kind. A sort of unspoken class he thought he could never reach. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t like you, that wasn’t the case at all. 

If the two of you were alone there would most likely be a comfortable silence, and he was okay with that. 

Your anger was never misdirected but it was always there. Whether at the pit of your stomach or the tip of your tongue, it never left you. 

At times, he would notice. Feitan would see you handle things with grace but more privately sit alone with a blank expression. 

He never wanted to hurt you by asking but he knew something had to be up. There was no way you could be so perfect, with the way you walked and talked. 

It would make him be ever so slightly softer with you. 

Feitan could understand being angry, but he respected you for never making it any one's problem. 

He wouldn’t be so against helping you reach your goal if you ever told him. 

Even he could sense the rather nasty feelings when you sat in silence for too long. 

He’d promise himself to make sure it didn’t take over your life.

Scenario

Feitan wasn’t close to you. Not at first. He was rather blunt when he did speak, not finding the extra effort in things necessary. That system worked for him, until you started coming around more often. Not for him, it was for business or meetings you would have with other members. 

Occasionally he would be among those chairs that were in front of yours. It was like talking to an angel in the simplest terms. Though the two of you wouldn’t converse much, he saw you as the most genuine state of politeness. Feitan was okay with that relationship, not one keen to change. 

It felt effortless, as smooth as silk. Feitan started to be more expectant of your presence than your absence. He didn’t even catch himself in the act of all this until it was too late. 

There you were, he had been in the area and recognized you almost immediately. You were alone, sitting in front of a flowing river. The troupe was there to deal with some business but he had finished his task first. Which meant he was free till the rest finished up with theirs. 

You stared down at the ripples of water, the calm flow filling your ears. It was rather a contrast to how you felt. Angry, so very angry. The feeling wasn’t worn on your face but it was still visible to those who took note of the smaller things. 

Feitan made up for his silence by his attention to detail. 

“The troupe is here too?” You spoke up without hesitation, you knew who was there. He stood behind you, he assumed you heard the crunching of the grass beneath his feet.

“Yes,” He pulled his jacket down from his face so he didn’t sound muffled, “I’m waiting.” Feitan wasn’t one of many words so it definitely seemed like he was trying to talk to you. If he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn't. 

You looked back at him, eyes exploring his face. “You don’t want to sit down?” You spoke low, offering him to sit down next to you out of habit. Feitan stared at the ground complying faster than he would admit he did. 

It was silent for the most part, comfortable at first. The sounds of the water running and splashing against the rocks filled the air. Feitan started to think of it though, the longer the silence went on. You were in a secluded place, alone, and dead silent staring off. 

If something didn’t happen beforehand, it must've been something bigger bothering you. His thoughts made him feel somewhat softer in the moment. Why was he even talking to you?  

Feitan followed where your eyes stared, “Are you okay?” He spoke gruffly in the same volume he always did. 

“I’m okay, how are you?” You looked back over at him, seeing the furrow in his eyebrows. Feitan let out an irritated sigh, not the kind of answer he was looking for but he won’t push you for more. 

He stared back at you with a plain answer. “Fine..” He looked away, this time up at the sky. The silence stayed until he was about to meet up with the troupe again. It took them longer than he expected but he wasn’t mad about the wait. 

“You’re too proper, say how you actually feel next time. I’m asking for a reason..” That was the most you’ve heard from him in a while. He got up abruptly after speaking, you assumed the others must've finished up whatever they had to do. 

A small smile plastered on your face, you listened, “I’ll try, thank you.” It was casual, until it wasn’t. 

Shalnark

Shalnark was the type to watch from the sidelines. With no malicious intent, or anything in mind and just let his eyes follow. 

Though with this he did like to tease and prod to get other reactions from you. That was just how he was, Shalnark knew you were kind but he was just curious. 

He wouldn’t avoid serious conversations, knowing that was how he would get the most from you. 

Still, you had a pleasant look on your face, he was almost completely sure that was permanent on you. 

Shalnark had stalked around, he knew of your past long before you had said it yourself. 

He’s more likely to still see if he can gauge a reaction from you by lighthearted things but doesn’t like it when others do it. 

He’s respectful when it comes down to talking about your anger and where it's directed. 

Shalnark watches you cautiously, not because he doesn’t have faith in you. He just doesn’t know how much you’ll throw away to win. 

Scenario

Shalnark already knew everything he had to know about you from the moment he started to feel his favoritism for you grow. It wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be to say the least. Hours of searching, even physical papers until he finally understood who you were and where you stood. 

You were kind yet he didn’t understand why. There was the possibility you were because you thought it would grant you more success or maybe you were just raised that way. Shalnark believed it to be the latter, you were just like that. 

He had been trying to get under your skin recently. It had been working so far, you showed your displeasurement with his teasing. Still, he didn’t push personal or deep stuff.

Shalnark was trying to make you be anything else other than perfect. Your attitude would be described as such, you were gentle and caring. 

He wouldn’t mind seeing an angrier version of you. In his own way, he wanted to help you put that anger somewhere else instead of pent up.

So, he poked and poked at you until you showed your frustration. Shalnark didn’t mind the occasional laugh though, his reward after getting hit in the back of the head. 

“Is this annoying?” He asked, poking you in the rib unintentionally tickling you. “No, not at all!” You moved away from the touch as fast as possible. A smile spread across your face, “What’s that for?” 

Shalnark ran his hand through his blond hair, “I wanted to try something, but I should try something else.” He got on his  phone, typing up something too fast for you to guess what it could be. After a few moments of silent searching he put it down, now looking back at you with something sinister. 

You raised an eyebrow at him, you could barely even work a phone while he was searching up evil plans to use against you. How cruel. 

“What are you up to now..?” You stared at him cautiously, “Shalnark?” You called out his name and that's when he stood up. 

Shalnark put his hands up in surrender, “Hear me out okay? I have an idea that can take away your stress with a small pin.” He spoke as if he was a salesian selling a car. 

Despite the oddness of it all, he was trying to help.

 “It’s not that easy, I’m not trying to forget my anger.” You denied the solution he wanted so desperately to give you. Yes, he enjoyed trying to make you aggravated, yes he would prefer if it was all how you genuinely felt.