#phinks

Chrollo

At first he just… watches. No alarm, just quiet curiosity.

He notices you don’t move and it weirdly intrigues him, like, “Ah, such stillness… almost angelic.”

He’ll lowkey compare you to a wax doll in his head, but in a poetic way.

Probably reads by candlelight next to you and occasionally checks if you’re breathing, but doesn’t wake you.

You’re giving him “holy relic resting in a tomb” vibes and he’s not mad at it.

Pakunoda

Paku is worried. Like mama mode ON.

She’ll lean close, listening for your breath, sometimes even brushing your hair back to check.

“...Are you sure you’re okay?? You’re way too still, Y/N.”

Once she realizes it’s just how you sleep, she relaxes but she’ll always sneak in those little checks anyway.

Nobunaga

The first night, he legit thought you died. He was about to scream for Machi.

When you woke up he was like, “DON’T SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, DAMN IT.”

After that, he always pokes you in the arm before bed just to remind himself you’re alive.

Calls you a corpse but affectionately.

Machi

She’s unfazed. Machi’s like, “As long as you’re breathing, who cares?”

Still… she’ll sometimes tie a thread around your wrist so she can feel if you move at all.

Pretends she doesn’t check on you, but she does.

Secretly appreciates how quiet you are- no tossing or turning, no snoring. Peaceful.

Phinks

“Hey, you dead??” is the first thing he says when he notices.

He has to nudge you at least once to be sure, even if it annoys you.

Once he realizes you really just sleep like that, he’ll brag about it: “This one sleeps like they’re in a coffin. Hardcore.”

Finds it funny more than anything.

Shizuku

She straight up thought you were dead and got super confused.

Woke you up before she realized you were breathing.

After you explained, she just nodded like, “Okay. So you’re alive. Got it.”

Sometimes she leans over you just to double check, cause she keeps forgetting you’re breathing.

Shalnark

This man is annoying about it. He’ll lean over and whisper, “Wake up, zombie~”

Takes pictures of how still you are cause it cracks him up.

“You look like you’re in a crime scene photo, Y/N. Adorable.”

But he’s also the type to put his finger under your nose just to confirm you’re breathing.

Feitan

Honestly? He thinks it’s perfect.

Quiet, no movement, no disturbance? Ideal.

He’ll still hover a second to check your pulse, though, because he doesn’t trust it.

Sometimes he mutters, “Creepy… but fine,” before settling in himself.

Franklin

Gentle giant is concerned the first time. He’ll put his hand near your chest to feel your breathing.

Once he realizes it’s just how you sleep, he doesn’t mind.

He actually likes it because you’re so peaceful. He’ll sit nearby on watch and not worry about you fidgeting awake.

Bonolenov

He views it as a kind of sacred stillness. Very ritualistic, very ceremonial.

He’ll hum softly, almost like a lullaby, convinced you’re resting like a warrior in a sacred slumber.

Doesn’t disturb you at all. Actually admires it.

Kortopi

Little guy panics. He shook you once cause he thought you were gone.

After you startled awake, he apologized a thousand times.

Now he just sits awkwardly nearby, clutching something he duplicated, like a nervous comfort habit.

Eventually he gets used to it but will always check your breath before bed.

Uvogin

Oh he hates it at first. He’s like, “Y/N. Y/N. WAKE UP. …Oh, you’re alive? Damn, thought I lost you.”

He cannot resist putting his huge hand on your stomach to feel you breathe.

Once he gets used to it, he laughs about it constantly.

Calls you “Sleeping Beauty” but in a big teasing tone.

Hisoka

He lives for this.

He thinks it’s creepy and therefore delightful.

Will lean over you whispering, “So still~ almost like a little doll…”

He’ll poke your cheek just to see if you’ll twitch.

The silence lowkey makes him wanna mess with you more (like braiding your hair into weird shapes while you’re out cold).

Illumi

Completely unbothered. He sleeps like that too.

He actually thinks it’s the proper way to sleep- silent, unmoving, efficient.

He’ll stare at you in the dark for a long time, quietly approving.

If you ever shift even a little, he’s like, “…Oh. You can move. Fascinating.”

“Alright, kid. Lady at the store said this was good for babies.” Uvo holds up a bag of mixed vegetables. “Personally I prefer meat and beer, but I don’t know how many teeth you have yet, and most people say babies can’t have alcohol.” That’s a shame, considering his fridge is mostly beer.

You don’t really reply to him, but that’s because you’re so focused on colouring in pictures. Maybe Uvo shouldn’t have left you alone, but whatever. You seem okay. You usually cry if he’s not around though. Then again, you’re probably really hungry. Uvogin has decided kids are useless, because you don’t eat any of the food he does. He tried to give you beef jerky and you spat it out, much to his annoyance.

“And I gotta stop calling you kid,” he says to himself. He walks over to you and gets down on his knees to seem less intimidating, though you’ve not seemed to mind that yet. “What’s your name?”

You pause and then hold up your teddy bear. “Bear.”

Uvo pulls a face. “No, that’s not - I mean your name.” Your last connection to your clan, apart from your eyes.

“Bear bear!” you happily say, passing him your bear like it means anything. Uvo sighs. This won’t get him anywhere.

“Do you know what a name is? Naaameee.” He points at himself and then at you. “I’m Uvogin. Who are you?”

Nothing in your expression changes. Uvo thinks it’s for the better though. He wouldn’t want to remember your old life anyway. “Okay, kid. This isn’t working. So I’m just gonna call you…” He doesn’t know if he can call you Sarasa actually. He doesn’t want that to drive him mad. Or madder.

Uvo thinks for a moment. “Eh, Gremlin will do. You’re a gremlin anyway.”

“Gremlin!” you repeat. Uvo nods. Yeah, this’ll work.

Nobunaga knocks at the door. Uvo should be home, even if this is a surprise visit. He just fancied going to a bar and drinking like always. When there’s no response, he shrugs and just uses his key to open the door. Not like there’s anything he hasn’t seen anyway.

“Uvo! Hey, Uvo?” Nobunaga makes it two steps before seeing you, sat on Uvo’s ratty old couch and drawing what looks like an awful interpretation of Uvogin.

Nobunaga’s soul all but leaves his body. What the fuck? He doesn’t remember Uvo having a kid. Sure, he’s drunk most of the time he hangs out with his best friend, but Nobunaga thinks he’d remember that.

“Uvo!” The man in question finally comes into the living room, hair damp. “Uvo.”

“Yeah?”

“Uvo?” Nobunaga repeats for a third time.

“What?”

“Why do you have a child?!” You don’t even look like Uvogin! You look - Nobunaga sees it. Not as strongly as Uvo does, but enough to see Sarasa in your face as the light catches it.

Uvo just shrugs. “I dunno. I guess I’m her older brother.”

That breaks Nobunaga’s stare, and he focuses on Uvogin again. “When did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“A few weeks? Uvo, that’s a toddler! It takes more than a few weeks to make a-”

“She’s not related to me!” Uvo says. Well, Nobunaga can clearly see that.

“Okay. Then where’d you get her from?” He looks at you again. And realises. “Uvo… Uvo, is that a - that’s a Kurta?”

Uvogin shrugs again. “Relax. She doesn’t remember any of it, and she’s mine now anyway.”

Nobunaga runs his hand through his hair. This can’t be happening. “Oh my god. She’s a Kurta. She’s going to grow up, see Scarlet Eyes, and murder us.”

Uvo laughs like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “She’s not a Kurta anymore. I told you. She’s mine.” He crouches slightly and faces you. “Hey, kid. Come meet Nobunaga.” You put your crayon down and shuffle towards him. Uvo catches you when you stumble and puts you in an unwilling Nobunaga’s arms.

You squint up at him like you’re trying to make sense of him. “No… Nobu… Noba…”

“Nobunaga,” Nobunaga says.

You try for a bit longer and then point at him. “Nobu.”

Nobunaga’s heart might have just melted. “Yeah, I’m Nobu. That’s right. Well done, kiddo.”

Uvo grins in the most little shit way possible. “Knew you’d like her.”

“I didn’t want to like her! I came here for drinks! And now I’d…” You gently touch his hair without pulling it.

Yeah, Nobunaga is pretty sure he’d die for you.

Nobunaga visits often, teaching you how to hold a stick like it’s a sword. You don’t seem that interested though, as you just keep hitting him in the knees with it. Uvo encourages that.

It’ll be strange seeing Uvo without you today, but as the Spiders are all on a mission, Nobunaga assumes you’ll be left at home. Not great for you mentally, but what can he do?

His assumption is very wrong.

Uvo is uncharacteristically late, which already gets the troupe’s attention, but when little footsteps echo down the hallway, everyone goes from concerned do confused.

No. No, he wouldn’t. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Nobunaga’s jaw goes slack as you make your way slowly into the base, Uvogin, your 8ft 6 protector, strolling behind you.

“Sorry I’m late,” he bluntly says. “She wanted to stop for crackers.” There’s a clatter and a thump, and Nobunaga sees Feitan and Chrollo have respectively dropped their sword and book.

“Uvo!” Nobunaga yells. “Uvo! What did we talk about? Why is she here?” You run over to him laughing and happy to see your ‘Nobu’.

“She cries when I leave her alone for long,” Uvo explains. “I mean, she’s a baby.”

The murmurs go quiet as Chrollo stands up and makes his way to you. Nobunaga doesn’t miss the way Uvo keeps his eyes on you. Half pride and half worry that Chrollo will try see if you have your family’s eyes.

Chrollo stops just before you. “Uvo. Why is there a baby here?” He sounds so calm. How is he calm about this?

“Oh. She’s my sister. Can’t call her my daughter cause I don’t know anything about being a dad, so I’m her brother.”

“Ah,” is all Chrollo says. A nice leader-like way to process this.

Then you finally look at Chrollo. The boss pales, if only slightly. His hands twitch before he controls them.

“She looks like her.” Not everyone knows who he’s talking about, but those who do understand perfectly. Phinks goes as far as to do a double take.

“I know,” Uvo says. “That’s why I forgot to kill her. And, uh, can’t really do that anymore.” His gaze hardens. “And before any of you get any ideas, if her eyes turn red and you try taking them, I’ll tear you apart.”

So he’s basically shoved the fact you’re a Kurta out into the open air. There’s silence for a minute.

“No,” Chrollo agrees as you put your tiny hand in his open one. “It’s a rule that Spider doesn’t harm its own.”

You quickly get curious about these strangers, and so Uvo lets you wander around. Feitan hisses when you get close, and you hiss in return. He nods in a way that might be acceptance of your new standing. Machi would swear blind that she’s not, but her eyes constantly follow you as you move around. She’d also swear she didn’t form a tear at the sight of your face, but that’s a lie too.

Eventually, you make your way to Chrollo, and the book that contains all the Nen abilities he’s taken. Uvo’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know how Chrollo would react to that.

You point at the book. “Book.”

Chrollo freezes, and when he looks at you, his eyes are in a different time. Then when he blinks and lowers the book, he softens. “Yes, little one. It is a book.” You pause and then run your hands over it gently, like you can practically tell it’s precious.

Uvo knows Chrollo is seeing the same thing as him. The same trust. The same innocence. The same bright presence.

You even flip through the pages. Chrollo doesn’t even flinch. He even looks away, towards Uvo.

“What’s her name, by the way?”

Uvo smiles with pride. “Gremlin.”

The entire Troupe explodes at that.

“Uvo!”

“Are you fu - freaking kidding me?” That’s Phinks, remembering he’s in the presence of a toddler.

“Have you met a child?”

“That’s not a name!”

“Name her something normal!” Machi yells.

“I think Gremlin is a nice name,” Shizuku offers.

“Name fits, in my opinion.” Uvogin would be mad at Feitan if he didn’t have a point.

“It doesn’t fit!” Nobunaga protests. “She only hits if she has a weapon!”

“She likes it!” Uvo defends.

“Gremlin!” They all go quiet at hearing you say your ‘name’.

“See?” Uvo laughs. “She likes it!”

Despite themselves, the Troupe end up adoring you, though not as much as Chrollo and Uvogin do. Five seconds after meeting you, Shalnark downloads tons of kids games, ones that are easy on the eyes for babies and not overstimulating.

However, he ends up liking them more than you do. Most of the time you’ll get bored and wander off, while he’s furiously tapping at the screen and trying to beat the levels.

“No, no, Gremlin! You need to catch all the apples! Look at what big brother Shalnark’s doing! No!”

Uvo finds him three hours later, still playing.

Chrollo is besotted by you. Utterly besotted. He will more often than not be found with you instead of the other Spiders, putting on some classical music for you (though you prefer the loud rock that Uvo blasts).

He also takes it upon himself to teach you how to read.

“Every child deserves literacy,” he argues.

Uvo scoffs. “She doesn’t need to know how to read, boss. Not gonna force her to go to school. Who the fuck needs to find the x in real life anyway?”

Despite these complaints, Chrollo buys you plenty of educational books, and begins teaching you the alphabet. Uvo suspects that Chrollo’s enjoying the teaching more than you enjoy learning.

“The letter S is shaped like this. S is for ‘Spider’.” He taps the pen to his chest and yours. “Spider is us, okay?”

You could draw scribbles and barely legible letters and he’ll praise you like you wrote a thesis. Chrollo ends up spending day after day lying on the floor with you, patiently teaching you until you have a reading ability far higher than your age. Yet no matter how much he says you need to be able to do these things yourself, he will read it to you.

He’s grateful for how Uvo never comments on the fact most times, Chrollo will slip up and call you Sarasa.

While others in the Troupe tend to baby you, Feitan doesn’t. Machi makes you clothes, and Phinks pretends you’ve beaten him in wrestling, but Feitan doesn’t do any of the sort. In fact, he acts almost tsundere towards you. He’d die for you, doubtlessly, but he’ll never let that show.

In fact, he has an odd little nickname for you. As you only called him Fei for the first year of knowing him, he retaliated and shortened ‘Gremlin’ to ‘Grim’. You could run up to him and happily start speaking about a new book or fighting move, and he will say ‘Hello, Grim’.

He did get you a smaller version of his umbrella for your third birthday (aka the day Uvo found you, because none of them know your birthday), and laughs when you ‘beat’ Phinks in a wrestling match though.

You’re six when they start planning to go to YorkNew.

And you’re the absolute spit of Uvo in personality. You’re half wild and strong and feisty, and nothing at all like what a Kurta ought to be. You haven’t killed before, but it’s only a matter of time. When you come of age, you’re going to be made into Spider 0. That was the conclusion Chrollo came to. You’re the next generation of the Spider. The blank slate. The new beginning. Their symbol.

Also much like Uvogin, you only listen to Chrollo and the other members of the Spider. The rest of the world could burn in your eyes. You’ve never known anything but them. You don’t want any other life.

They’ve already warned you that out there are scary people who might want to hurt you for your red eyes. People who wouldn’t care for who you are, or how much the Troupe love you. Because of that, Uvo taught you how to fight at a young age, and how do bite. You’ve inherited his volume and most of his personality, and his loyalty. Sometimes the Troupe genuinely forgets you’re not actually his sister, and you’re the last surviving Kurta.

Not that they’d ever tell you what a Kurta is. You were never meant to be with that clan anyway. They couldn’t even protect themselves, let alone you. You’re just aware that Uvogin took you in and your biological family were too weak to be fitting parental figures.

Uvo loves you more than anything in the world. You’re his legacy, and his kid. Maybe you started a a a replacement for Sarasa, but you’re a piece of him now too. He swears that he was meant to find you, and you were meant to be part of the Spider. Why else would you be born looking exactly like Sarasa?

He’ll still see her in you though. Especially when you trail after him and Chrollo with a fearless smile.

Uvo lost Sarasa. He’s not losing you.

Kurapika sometimes hears stories about surviving clan members. All rumours, because he buried everyone who was said to survive.

Except one.

He never found you by your parents. Of course, he’s not foolish enough to think his baby sister is alive, but he hopes. He hopes so bitterly. He doesn’t know how you’re still alive, but logic evades him when it comes to you.

He’s got a reward on every Hunter website for your safe return to him. For there to be another Kurta, let alone it being his sister… he doesn’t know how he could ever let you out of his sight again.

The car goes hurtling down the street, and you yelp and dig your nails into Feitan’s arms.

“Grim!”

“Sorry, Fei-Fei!”

Shalnark brakes suddenly, and the car twists around. You look out the window for that split second. There’s a large group of people about, but no one’s that focused on Shalnark’s awful driving. You were meant to stay at the base until tonight, when the auction would be raided, but you’d so badly wanted ice cream. As soon as you’d mentioned it, Shalnark had the same craving, and so he, Phinks, and Feitan promised to take you.

Oh - someone is focused on the car. Some blonde boy.

Who’s staring at you.

It’s been four and a half years. The last time he saw you, you were barely able to walk. Your eyes hadn’t even turned scarlet.

And yet you’re here.

Impossibly, perfectly here.

Kurapika knows Leorio will call him insane. After all, he’s only seen you for less than a heartbeat, and it’s been so long.

But he knows. He knows because he’s your big brother, and the world is less terrible when he knows you’re alive. It will never erase the pain of the massacre, but to have you back. If Kurapika could’ve brought back anyone, it would be you.

Uncaring of anything else, he breaks away from Leorio and Gon. Killua briefly calls his name, but he can’t focus on that. All he can focus on is the fact you’re here. He doesn’t even notice who you’re with.

He can’t help switching into the Kurta tongue flawlessly despite how many years it’s been.

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s me! It’s Kurapika!”

The car races away and he can’t keep up with it. But he can hear you from where the window is down.

You look back to the weird blonde guy and frown before turning to Feitan.

“What was that language?”

Feitan shrugs. “Never heard it before. What’s a Y/N?”

You shrug too. “I don’t know. Can’t be anything to do with us. Now can we get ice cream?”

“Yeah,” Phinks adds, “before Shal murders us all.” You burst into laughter with your older brothers as Shalnark argues and protests and tells Phinks he can drive himself if it’s so awful.

“Where is she?” Kurapika asks. The chain is wrapped around Uvo’s heart. He’s so close to getting to you after so long. “I heard her say the name of your fellow Troupe member. Give her back to me and I’ll let you go free. I’ll let you all go free.”

Uvo laughs, and blood comes out of his mouth. “Go to hell, chain freak. Gremlin’s ours. Been like that since we found her.” Found her. As if they’d just encountered you randomly. As if they hadn’t killed your entire family.

Killed all but one. Kurapika tightens the chain.

“You think,” Uvo manages, ”I’m letting you drag my girl back to graves she doesn’t remember? She’s happier if she doesn’t know.” Kurapika knows he’s right about that. But damn it, your older brother needs you.

“You kept her alive all these years. Why? You killed others far younger than her.”

Uvogin grins. “She reminded me of someone. Couldn’t leave her. I got attached too quickly. I loved her the moment I saw her.”

No. That’s not true. Kurapika loved you the moment he saw you, the moment your mother placed you in his arms and told him to meet his new baby sister Y/N.

“You couldn’t leave her,” Kurapika repeats. “So you made her into one of you?”

“She wanted to be with us!” Uvo yells. The chain is too tight. He has to be using all of his strength for this. “She doesn’t know anything about you! Doesn’t even speak your language! Don’t waste your breath trying to remind her! The others will kill you before you get to her! She’s mine! Do you hear me? She’s my daugh-”

The chain crushes his heart. Kurapika supposes he should’ve asked for more information on the other Spiders. He doesn’t care though. Any mercy he had is gone now.

You sit up and blink, startled from your nap. Nobunaga notices and intentionally loses the game of cards he’s playing with Shalnark.

“Gremlin? You good?” He walks over to you. You frown. You feel fine. “Was it that ice cream? Shalnark, she’s six! You can’t just get her four scoops of ice cream. She’ll be sick.”

“No,” you interrupt. “I don’t feel sick. I just feel… weird. Like there was something in my chest.” A faint ember of scarlet blossoms in your eyes as you concentrate to recall the sharp feeling. Nobunaga doesn’t even bat an eye towards it, all of the Spider used to your eyes changing colour, and puts his hand on your forehead.

“You feel fine. No temperature.” He then laughs teasingly. “It’s just because Uvo’s not back yet, I bet. Jeez, you really don’t sleep well when he’s not around.”

He’s not back yet? You look around the hideout like he’ll appear.

“Nobu, when is he coming back?”

“I’m sure it’ll be soon, kiddo. Don’t you worry. Uvo would sooner die than miss telling you your favourite bedtime stories.” He ruffles your hair, but not like how Uvo does.

You partially relax as the other Spiders reassure you too.

There was a rare species of lily native to the region, nearly extinct, and you'd chosen it instinctively. Earlier, you'd noticed a bee—likely the exact one needed to pollinate the flower if you remembered the colouring correctly. It seemed fitting.

It hadn’t been a corpse in front of you, but rather a whole stack of documents that had been infused with nen to oppose fire, decay and brute force. Destroying them outright was perhaps impossible with your strength, but Chrollo had proposed a loophole. Your nen didn’t destroy so much as it reformed. Maybe the nen protecting the papers wouldn’t resist if the object was simply changing shape.

You doubted he cared much about the documents themselves—what he really wanted was to see if his hunch had been correct.

And then, the moment your pen grazed the packet of seeds, something clicked in your mind. A quiet, almost imperceptible snap—like a door opening somewhere far away.

You caught yourself just before scoffing aloud. A joke had nearly slipped out, something offhanded and dry. But you bit your tongue. You both knew too well how humor could be misread- taken as a sign you were in a better mood (you weren’t), or worse, interpreted literally. That would have been the more dangerous misunderstanding.

Still, as you stood waiting for the sprinkler to finish filling, the joke kept looping in your mind. Harmless at first. Just a mental echo to pass the time. But with each repetition, it grew heavier. Less like a throwaway thought, and more like a seed itself.

When you poured the water over the documents, the nen inside the paper immediately expanded for a brief moment, during which you felt Chrollo bristle and step closer to you. Usually it took a while to take root, but the water was sucked up by the nen like a sponge.

For a split second, you thought your hatsu had failed. Maybe there was something in the protective layer that repelled your ability. Some condition or counterforce you hadn’t accounted for.

But then it happened.

The defensive nen withdrew. And yours surged in.

Ivory lilies exploded from the document without warning. No slow bloom, no curling vines easing out, just fully-grown flowers tearing through each page like shrapnel. One launched straight at your face, and you had to jerk back to avoid getting skewered by a stem.

The room went wild. Pages split open with violent force, spitting out blossoms at every angle. Chrollo grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the door, nearly getting his leg caught as a wave of flowers surged past. Thick stems and petals slammed against the walls, bending the wood inward like the whole cabin was breathing too fast.

You stumbled out just ahead of the crush. Behind you, the cabin groaned under the pressure. Lilies burst through the floorboards, cracked through the windows, and split the roof open like wet paper. Within seconds, the entire clearing was buried in flowers, thick and fast and still spreading, swallowing everything in their path.

And they weren’t stopping.

Chrollo didn’t say anything at first. He stood still at the edge of the field, chest rising and falling, eyes fixed on the cabin as it disappeared under the spreading mass of lilies.

The wood cracked again, louder this time, then collapsed inward. The roof caved in completely. Petals and splinters shot up like a geyser. Chrollo lifted his coat to block the debris, but didn’t step back. His stare was intrigued as he wolf whistled at the destruction.

You glanced at him, still catching your breath, realizing you felt your nen expand even further, with no trace of the original nen. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Before he could say anything, see any more, you grabbed the edge of his coat and tugged on it in the direction away from the cabin. “It’s dangerous to stay here. The nen on the documents must’ve had some trap built in on it.”

Instead, he stepped forward, brushing a lily aside with the back of his hand. His fingers hovered just above the flower, but didn’t touch it again.

“It did not bypass the nen,” he said, more to himself than to you. “It exorcised it.”

You felt a chill crawl up your spine. He’d noticed. “That isn’t possible. I did not-”

“It was my nen on those documents. I felt it,” he continued. “I thought your ability restructured matter, but this-”

He turned toward you now, eyes sharp.

“You could purge nen.”

You shook your head and like a broken record when talking about your own ability, you fearfully muttered. “That’s not what it’s for.”

“But it could be.”

You hated how interested he sounded. Like he was already weighing the options on how to use your ability. This was a problem. At least he’d discarded your ability as useless at first, but this was dangerous. He’d steal and use your precious ability for even more horrendous things, not just to hurt you, but because your ability made it possible to begin with.

Behind you, the lilies kept spreading. The ground cracked as roots pushed deeper. Something groaned beneath the soil, like the earth itself was struggling to breathe.

The feeling you had while standing there, watching it slowly get drowned by previously extinct lilies, until the foundation of the cabin could no longer support the pressure and the flowers made wood splinter everywhere, made you certain. 

Chrollo had done this to experiment with you, to see how your ability worked to the finest details. But the possibility- the opportunity that had arisen within you as a joke by mere chance. He did not know about that. He didn’t. And even without experimentation you knew.

It’d work

…

Chrollo looked back at the wreckage. His expression was unreadable.

“We should leave,” he said finally.

You followed, but couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder to see the growing mountain of blue. The cabin was gone. The forest edge was next.

– X -

The calendar loses a precious component.

 The remaining months gather to mourn.

 The mourners play a melody

 While the eleventh moon quietly rises.

The chrysanthemum withers and falls,

 To lie on the ground beside bloody Scarlet Eyes.                

But you will remain supreme

 Even after losing half your limbs.

Enjoy the interlude.

 Search out new allies.

 East is the direction to go.

 To find help and chase the pollen

– X-

The calendar loses a precious component.

The remaining months gather to mourn.

Do not detest the silence

Your companionship will be sought

A door appears, silent and unmoving.

To pass through it is to hold yourself in stasis

To refuse is to dissolve into something else

True progress lies in the surrender of what was.

Be wary of those who wish you well

The fangs extend not out of need,

You will face the moon from a place of shadow,

 and in your bloom, the seeds of your kingdom will scatter.

– X -

Then came Nobunaga’s voice, low and unusually quiet: “There is someone.”

All eyes shifted. Slowly. Toward you.

You knew it before he said it. Felt it in your gut.

“You.” His words hit like a quiet gunshot. “Boss mentioned you could purge nen. Could you get rid of it specifically?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came. Your stomach flipped.

“I—no?,” you tried. “I still don’t think that’s what happened, and the boss would have to die first. I can’t fix whatever the chain user did.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Pakunoda interrupted, arms folded tight. “We can experiment with it a little beforehand. plenty of items here have nen, we can see what happens when you target nen specifically. If it doesn’t work, we’ll know then.

And there it was.

You froze.

Nen was a highly personal energy, and you couldn’t form a hatsu if you weren’t highly attuned to its properties. It was how you felt that something had changed with your hatsu recently, how you instantly recognized your own actions as a purging nen and it was how you could tell that their idea would actually work. It’d cost something, but it’d work.

Not that you wanted it to.

But it would.

You felt like a doe in headlights, everyone’s eyes suddenly pointed at you. The sudden full-attention of the group was intense, and you could do little but shy away, knowing deep within that there was no way in hell.

“I’m not going to do that.” You said softly, looking down at your feet. “Even if it does work, I won’t give back his nen.”

Feitan hissed something in his native tongue that you knew basically meant ‘moron’ and Phinks moved in at the same time. Too fast. You didn’t even flinch before his arm was around your waist. He hauled you up like you were nothing, a sack of nerves and regret, and carried you out of the main room without a word. The others didn’t stop them. They just watched in silence.

Pakunoda and Franklin exchanged a glance. Neither spoke.

You were dropped, none too gently, outside the door. Feitan followed, eyes sharp as blades. He flicked you in the forehead, hard.

“Stupid,” he spat. “Stupid, stupid.”

You stumbled back, hands raised instinctively. “I’m not stupid! Giving him his nen back would be the stupid thing! It’d be suicide for me—you know that!”

“Suicide?” Feitan scoffed. “Boss helps you. Don’t spit on his affection for you.”

You paled with anger. “His affection? Mind-controlling me, kidnapping me, stealing my ability?” 

There was more you wanted to say. About the frilly outfits he sometimes made you wear, or the incessant ways he touched you. Only Pakunoda knew about that, because you’d loudly screamed the memories at her when she’d braided your hair once. She’d let go and hadn’t mentioned it once. 

“You don’t get it,” Phinks snapped. “You really don’t get it.”

His face was flushed with frustration, fists clenched like he was holding back from shaking you. “You think we won’t force you? You want to see what that looks like? Do you want us to flip a damn coin on it?”

“Do not do this.” Fei said, eyes intense, pleading with you not to go down this path. Immediately, you realized the extent of his question. Don’t make us do this. “Using Shalnark’s ability would break the rules. You have to do it.”

You stared at them.

The realization sank in slowly, like cold water seeping into your lungs. For a moment, you had clung to the desperate hope that this was just pressure, just tension, just a show of force to scare you into compliance. That they were bluffing. That maybe, just maybe, there was still some line they wouldn’t cross when it came to you.

But there wasn’t.

They didn’t want to hurt you.

But they would.

They’d do it without blinking, if it meant bringing Chrollo back.

You looked at them. Feitan, barely containing something sharp and venomous under the surface, and Phinks, with his jaw clenched too tightly, fists twitching like he hated what he had to do. Like he wished it could be any other way.

But not enough to stop.

And that’s when it hit you: these people, this group of thieves and murderers, this family, the only one you’d ever had... they must be dead inside. Not metaphorically. Not poetically.

Truly.

Utterly.

Because if these men, who’d grown up alongside you, who you’d fed and taken care of and loved for years and years and years, could look at you, and still weigh your pain against someone else’s nen and choose that?

Then what else could they be but hollow?

“Oh, wow,” you said, voice almost dazed, eyes flicking between Feitan and Phinks. “You two really mean it, huh.”

For Chrollo.

Always for Chrollo.

Phinks opened his mouth, and for a second his voice betrayed him, there was something raw, something reaching. “Please-”

But you were already smiling.

Not a real one. Not even close.

It was the kind of smile that made people flinch, made both men instinctively take half a step back. Like it physically hurt to see that expression on your face.

“Well,” you said, blinking fast, keeping the tears from falling by sheer force of will. Your eyes shone anyway, too bright, too full. “If my life’s taught me anything, it’s that-”

Your voice cracked. Just once.

“-you don’t always get what you want.”

–X-

The stone beneath you is cold. It seeps into your skin like it's trying to erase you.

You shift, barely, and pain lights up your body in white-hot streaks. Your wrists throb. Your ribs ache with every shallow breath. There’s blood dried into the lace of your sleeves, crusted into the delicate frills that once made the dress feel silly, excessive. Now it just feels obscene.

That’s a lie.

It’d felt obscene for a while now.

Ever since Chrollo took you in and turned your style into a way to appease you, a concession in the mountain of things he took from you. Even then, he chose what you wore, he chose when you wore it, and he chose when you’d take it off. 

You blink hard. Your vision swims. The dim basement around you blurs, tilts. Shadows flicker along the stone walls. Someone must’ve left a single bulb on above the stairs- barely enough to see by. It casts a long, lonely circle of light that doesn't quite reach you.

Your dress is torn at the hem. One shoe is missing. You’re not sure how long you’ve been here, but your legs feel like they belong to someone else. You try to sit up.

Bad idea.

They’d really tried.

Soft words at first. Promises whispered like lullabies: It’ll stop the moment you agree. Cold strategies followed- detached discussions about alternatives. Other ways. Mercenaries who could escort you. Tools that might “make it easier.” It all unraveled into one barren truth: if you refused, they couldn’t force you.

And that made everything worse.

Feitan had taken it hardest. The failure, the powerlessness. He hadn’t said anything when he tore the nail off your finger- just stared at it afterward, as if expecting it to hold some kind of answer. It hadn’t. After a moment, he turned and walked out without a word.

Phinks had surprised you. He didn’t touch you. Not once. But he stayed the longest.

He just watched.

Watched while you trembled. Watched while you bled. Watched while the silence filled every crevice of the room until it pressed on your ribs like another weight.

You heard voices above you, muffled through floorboards and walls. Heated. Familiar. Then violent. The air cracked thick with killing intent – sudden and suffocating–when one of the newer members offered to “take care of it.”

Tried to, anyway.

You remember fragments.

Phinks shouting. A crash, loud and final, like a table thrown across the room. Feitan’s silence, more vicious than anything he could’ve said. The ring of something hitting the wall.

Then quiet.

You don’t know how long it lasted, but you remember Phinks stepping back from you, hands twitching. His face had gone pale.

“She’s not going to do it,” he’d muttered.

“She will,” someone else said. “It’ll just take… a bit longer.”

“Then I can’t look at her right now.”

That was the last thing you heard before footsteps left the room. The door stayed closed. You were left here, discarded for now– because hurting you wasn’t working. Not yet.

Your fingers twitch against the stone. You pull them closer, tucking your hands to your chest. A curl of ribbon from your dress is stuck to your palm, soaked dark. It used to be pink.

You don’t know if you’re crying. You think maybe you already were.

Even if you survive this. If you crawl out, breathe fresh air again. It won’t matter.

You’re done.

You can feel it in your bones, deep in the marrow. There’s nothing left to give. Your body is broken. Your mind is splintered.

 A part of you wants to give in, save Chrollo and just continue the impasse as it had been. Some part of you wants to fake it all and try and escape mid-way, to run and run until there’s no place they’ll ever find you. It’s a fun little mindgame, but that would mean giving up on your dream. It would mean living on when your heart is torn between such intense hatred and sorrow towards the only family you’d ever known.

It’d mean living on in exhaustion.

The poem repeats in your mind. This is the end of the line, and some quiet part of you accepts it.

Your hand trembles as you raise it. It takes everything you have to summon your hatsu.

It appears in your palm, but the weight is too much now. You can’t even lift it properly. Doesn’t matter. You’re not using it the usual way.

You can barely read through the blur, through the haze clouding your mind, but you don’t need to. You know the shape of what you're doing.

The seed packets appear, edges crumpled from the blood you’ve already smeared across them. You don’t have ink. You don’t need it.

You bite into the tip of your finger, fresh pain blooming. The blood wells up fast.

You write your name.

It’s shaky. Almost illegible.

You stare at it with a strange sort of detachment. A signature on your own grave.

They wouldn’t let you bleed out. They took a break, just as much for their sake as for yours, but you know they'll be back with Machi, who’ll beg and plead you to give up and save their precious boss. 

If you’re going to die down here, you’ll leave something that outlives you. That’ll fulfil your purpose even when you failed in every single way. Something they can’t just burn and defile and turn into trash like everything else.

You flip the packet over with unsteady fingers. It sticks to your skin.

You press your finger to the paper and begin to scrawl. Each letter jerky and urgent, like your body knows it doesn’t have long.

WORLD TREE

Your vision pulses. The pain in your body dulls under something colder.

Whatever happens next… at least it’ll be yours. Not Chrollo’s. Not the Troupes.

Yours. You think as you wait for the watering can to fill. You reach for the watering can. The spout gurgles to life with that usual violet flow. It’s luminous, heavy with Nen. It surges faster than it should, as if it, too, understands time is short.

Your arms tremble. The muscles threaten to give out. Footsteps echo, drawing closer, but they no longer matter. You grip the handle, dragging the can toward you. With a last effort, you tip it forward, letting the water rush over your body, saturating your skin, your wounds, your will.

There is no pain now. There’s only a rising haze, a thick, slow confusion as your body falls back. Your breath catches. A tremor moves through your gut. Then–

It breaks through.

A sapling, small, impossibly green, pushes free from the center of you, its roots already threading down, as if the earth itself were waiting beneath the floorboards.

You blink once, twice. Not in agony. In disbelief.

So soon?

Didn’t you have to kill yourself first? 

You weren’t even sure it would work.

Were you already gone?

You put your head back on the floor. It doesn’t matter now. Let them come. Let them find what you’ve left behind.

Let them remember what bloomed here,

-X-

You wake with soil in your mouth.

It’s cold, wet, packed around your limbs like a second skin. You can’t see. Everything is pitch black, your chest squeezed tight by the weight pressing down on it. The air is stale. You choke as you cannot breathe anything in.

Your arms move first. They are slow, aching, like they’re not yours. You push against the earth above, fingers clawing at compacted roots and stone. You don’t know where you are. Panic hits hard and fast. You thrash, kicking, scratching, forcing your body upward with brute instinct.

Fingers break through first. Then your wrist. Then your face. Light stabs your eyes, sharp and blinding, as you rip through the final layer of dirt with a hoarse gasp.

You tumble out onto the ground.

But it’s not ground.

It’s bark.

You lie there, chest heaving, sprawled at the gnarled base of a tree so large it takes your brain several long, confused seconds to even register what you’re looking at. The roots arch above you like ribs. The trunk stretches upward past the clouds, past the sky itself. You try to focus, but your head is spinning. You feel small- no, insignificant- beneath it.

Your hands press against the bark. It feels familiar. Too familiar.

You look down at your arms.

Your skin is wrong.

It’s your skin, but not. Coarse in places. Your fingertips are rough, like they’ve been dipped in sap and left to dry. Hair falls in front of your face as you lean forward, and you freeze when you see it. Vines twist through it. Soft blossoms are tangled in the strands, fresh and damp like they’ve just bloomed there.

You tear one out, and it grows back instantly.

Your heart hammers. Something has changed. Something is changing. You stare at the massive trunk again, and your mind flashes back. Roots, water, poems, Chrollo, the lilies. The last thing you remember is–

The tree shifts.

A groan vibrates through the ground…no, through you. Like it recognizes you. Like it remembers with you.

You take one step forward and stumble.

The bark underfoot is uneven, slick with moisture, and spongy like new growth. You catch yourself on a thick, knotted root the size of a car, your fingers pressing into its grooves. Your nails scrape over something smooth. Stone? No, concrete. A piece of a streetlight is tangled in the wood.

You blink. A distant thump-thump-thump rattles your ears, low and steady. You tilt your head. It’s not the tree. Not this time.

Helicopters.

You look up, squinting through the shifting branches that cut through the sky. A black shape passes overhead, then another. Spotlights drag across the trunk. There's shouting, static in the wind, and something sharp and shrill. Sirens, maybe.

Your eyes drift down, finally seeing what lies beyond the roots.

The city is broken.

Buildings are split open like toys stepped on by a careless god. Roads are ruptured. Glass glitters across sidewalks like frost. Cars are crushed beneath the roots, some still smoking. In the distance, an entire skyscraper leans sideways, stopped only because the tree’s limbs have wrapped around it.

Fires burn in scattered clusters, too small to catch on the damp, growing wood, but bright enough to stab at your vision. You see people running. Tiny figures, far below, scrambling through the chaos.

A helicopter arcs lower. Through the spinning blades and flashing lights, someone shouts something through a speaker, but the words don’t reach you. All you hear is the wind, and the slow, almost thoughtful creaking of the tree as it shifts again.

Your head throbs.

You try to step off the root, but your legs buckle. The bark of your shin splints as you land hard. There’s no blood, just a sticky amber seep.

You stare at it.

You should feel fear. Pain. Something.

But your mind is foggy. Heavy. Like you're still dreaming. You try to speak, but the sound that comes out is hoarse and quiet. Not quite yours.

Another helicopter swings around, closer now, its spotlight locking onto you. You raise a hand, instinctively, as if to shield your eyes, but the vines in your hair move on their own, twisting upward.

The light flickers.

Then the tree groans again, louder this time.

You squint up.

The helicopter shifts, hovering just a little too close.

Then the tree moves.

A branch (no, a limb, thick as a train car) lashes downward, not fast, but with terrifying intent. The spotlight cuts out instantly. There's a flash of motion, then smoke, metal shrieking, and the sound of the helicopter being torn in half like paper. One half spins out of view, trailing fire. The other crashes into the side of the tree with a sickening crunch, where vines immediately wrap around it like a closing fist.

You stare, unmoving.

The tree is protecting you.

The realization settles like a stone in your gut. It’s not instinctive. Not wild. It knows you. It’s watching. You can feel it. A low hum beneath your feet, resonating in your ribs. The same hum in your blood, in the way your breath syncs with the swaying of the limbs above.

A groaning sound rumbles from deep inside the trunk, vibrating through your bones. Another root lifts behind you, arching high like a wall, shielding you from another spotlight that swings in from the east. Leaves unfold in the air like a curtain. The light never touches you.

From above, the helicopters hesitate. You hear voices again. Sharper now, alarmed. The spotlights begin pulling back, slowly, circling at a safer distance. You don’t know if they saw what happened to the first one or just felt the warning. Either way, they’re not getting closer.

The tree won’t let them.

You stare down at your arm. The bark-like texture has spread—rougher now, patterned like something between skin and wood. You run your fingers along it, tracing the grooves. Your fingertips come back sticky with amber. The wound on your leg has stopped bleeding. The sap has already sealed over it, cooling into a thin, glassy crust.

You reach out and touch a stray branch jutting from the trunk beside you. The moment your skin makes contact, buds pop open along its length, fast, blooming in a second, white petals peeling wide like they’ve been waiting.

You blink. Something about it is… familiar.

A picture drifts up, uninvited.

A place made of broken things. A sea of rusted metal, piles of forgotten lives, and children who called the trash heaps home. You can’t remember the name at first, but then it clicks, like a splinter under your skin.

Meteor City.

Your chest tightens. You remember dreaming of making it different. Making it softer. Safer. Not just for yourself, but for others. For the angry children who didn’t know how to stop fighting. For the hungry ones hidden beneath the metal. Names surface like echoes.

Phinks. Feitan. Pakunoda. Franklin. Shalnark. Uvogin. Machi.

Chrollo.

The memories don’t come all at once, but enough of them leak through to form a shape. A feeling.

You’d wanted to fix it. To make something beautiful from the ruin. A home that gave back in abundance, instead of taking. You remember the desire, how much you’d trained, how much you dreamed of making it a beautiful place. You had a responsibility to fix it.

You weren’t just anyone.

You were the princess of that place after all, weren’t you? Chrollo had asked you to be. You remember the lines, the dress you’d been given, the flowers you’d hid in your shelter, the memories of being so much more than hungry and cold.

And the moment the thought fully lands—I was the princess—the change begins.

Leaves unfurl from your ribs, soft and warm. Pale pink petals spread across your torso in overlapping layers, delicate as silk but impossibly strong. A corset of vines tightens around your waist, weaving with purpose. Frills bloom along your sleeves, puffed and sheer. Your body reforms itself to showcase this newfound knowledge.

You are beautiful.

You lift your eyes to the tree. It towers above everything now, monstrous and serene.

Still growing.

Its roots stretch through the city like veins, splitting pavement, swallowing steel. Flowers burst from the cracks. Vine-covered buildings groan as bark overtakes their walls. The chaos is softening into something stranger. Gentler. The city is still dying, but it’s also being remade.

And not into what it was.

Into what it should have been.

A place that protects.A place of abundance, of enough for everyone. Just like the tree protects you, you’re sure it will protect others too. Everyone that needs it.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the dizziness, the soreness, the layered petals and the bark creeping across your arms, a quiet certainty takes root. If you work really hard, you can spread this joy anywhere. You can make the world a better place. You can make Meteor City into the perfect place. You can make sure Feitan and Phinks don’t go hungry anymore.

You’ll make it beautiful.

Feitan followed you for a year before kidnapping you. You'd caught his eye by surprise one day- technically Phinks pointed you out to him- but your fate was decided then and there. So he'd yearn for you during nights he struggled to sleep, which turned into a battle within him raging of emotions unlike any he'd felt day in and out. It was like his chest and heart swelled so much around you or at the thought of you- he was so full with a warm giddiness that he thought he'd burst. For some days he wondered if killing you would make his life easier, until he realized one night that the thought of you dying hurt even more than any injury. 

For eight months you'd been his. 

And time didn't seem to matter anymore as you spent it in a small attic turned bedroom with a small bathroom. A tiny round window, with metal bars, was your only door to the outside world. You'd watched the seasons change from summer to fall, and now to winter. A dusting of white snow had fallen on the ground and furthermore a cold draft had you shaking under a mountain of thin blankets. 

The first month you never left the attic, Feitan wouldn't let you. You didn't see him either, just opening the door to place food inside then immediately locking it again. Screaming and crying until your voice was hoarse and you had no more tears to cry. Days on end curled into a ball as you stared devoid at a plank wall. The ceilings were low, meeting at a point in the center, thankful you were short to be able to move around easier. For a while you refused to be broken, trying to do small things to keep up fitness, but slowly the lack of signs of rescue froze everything. Like your mind and body shut down so matter how you yearned for your prior life. Slipping into your own world you began in your head, an alternate reality with your loved ones that did its best to comfort you. 

But each day you awoke in that same room in the same bed. Chilling how Feitan took your own pillows and blankets, to provide you some comfort or familiarity. Your favorite outfits in the drawers across the room, the cloth baby doll you slept with every night- it made you realize just how long your captor had been watching. 

Month two you realized things in the room were moved ever so lightly in the morning. At first you chalked it up to your poor mental state, that you had simply forgotten. Until you woke up one night, around 2AM to a pair of dark eyes watching you. Feitan. He was the one who pulled the chair to your bedside. He was the reason you woke up feeling vulnerable and gross. After you caught him, he didn't bother to hide anymore. 

He started watching you do the most mundane tasks, primarily eating, worried you'd choke. Started asking you the food you preferred and when you scarfed it as fast as possible, he grasped your jaw and helped you chew. That was the first time he'd touched you and your eyes lit up in shock from the chills that went down your spine. He didn't come around much after that, as you started getting too bold. You'd yell and scream at him, try throwing whatever you got your hands on. He left you isolated for weeks. 

Maybe it was your pathetic nature of wanting to please everyone, not being able to stand up for yourself that really drew Feitan in. Because never once did you try to escape— Especially not when the way Feitan walked around the house had your eyes glued to him with stars dizzying within them.

By month four he let out downstairs, let you sit in the kitchen as he cooked. Let you watch a movie as long as you sit on the couch with your hips just touching his. And you did it, because watching the reruns of that boring soap opera was the best thing to happen to you in far too long. It kept you from attempting to escape- asides from the fact there was no way out of the dingy attic, especially when Feitan left for weeks on end. 

The basement was cold. 

Your feet felt like they'd freeze off the first time he brought you down there. You realized, rather quickly, that you never wanted to be there again.

And it was in that basement that you understood who Feitan truly was, what he did for work and why he constantly disappeared. And why you needn't disobey. 

Even when he opened the door to the basement for the first time and motioned, you followed. Because five months in you'd listen due to fear. 

But your disobedience shown in the way your body froze when you reached the bottom of the stairs- whimpers escaping your lips as you tried to go back up. Feitan had just stood there, pushing you further. 

"Sit," He said, pointing to an armchair set up towards the workstation, "want you see me work." 

"W-work?" You swallowed hard. With hindsight you shouldn't have been surprised that someone as cold as Feitan, your kidnapper, was a murderer. A torturer who relished in pain, as not one did your depressed state bother him.

A man- beaten bloody was strapped to a table cranked forward so his head hung. He was in a loose shirt and shorts, ankles and wrists chained to the steel surface. 

"No.." The tears began to fall thickly, "please let me go upstairs-"

"No." Feitan watched you, "Sit. Waiting too long. Want you to watch. Been five months."

So you had been with him for five months, a part of you felt it'd been years already. "I can't," You whimpered, "please," your stomach was churning, bile rising in your throat as an intense heat dizzied your body. 

Feitan grabbed your wrist as if you were a doll, dragging you over and into the chair, "Stay." it was a threat. You could only nod as snot began to run down your nose and sweat beaded at your brow. Breathing became hard, the air dense and the smell of blood was sickening. 

The man's screams. 

Your ears ring trying to drown the screeches out. 

You couldn't stop your blubbering no matter how many glares Feitan sent your way. Your shoulders shaking and stomach in knots as you were continuously forced to swallow your own vomit to not make a mess, or ensue Feitan's wrath. Because you'd dealt with his cold shoulder or an occasional sprained limb from how strong he was. Used to his harsh words and threats, and invading eyes watching your every move when not locked in the attic. But you didn't want to be on that table, no matter what. 

The man was inconsolable as Feitan grabbed a pair of pliers, snapping them over and over as he crept closer. A heavy whirl of silence, of anticipation- the calm before the storm really before Feitan used the pliers to grasp the captive's fingernail. One after another. Scream after scream. Blood. A sickening ripping noise before tossing them to a palette. 

Oh the man was a mess. Voice hoarse with tears and saliva dripping down the side of his face as he begged for an end. Begged to die compared to the start for a reprise. 

"Please- just kill me "

Feitan's head cocked, eyes darkening, "talk."

"No."

Feitan doesn't like hearing no, you know that. You've felt his silent anger when you'd cry and shriek- because you weren't doing what he wanted. And in that basement watching a man's blood splatter about, you realized you were all out of his good graces he was willing to give. Like his self awareness that you needed time to adjust finally reached its end. Because a wild thump came down with the force of a thousand suns, and three fingers toppled to the ground with crimson red spurting like a wild rose. 

"Who moved merchandise?" Feitan hissed as he grasped another gruesome looking tool with his thin fingers. 

"Go to hell," 

Rage. A sharp crack sounded as a molar went flying with a clatter across the room. It enraged him, all the defiance this captive had, for your first showcase of his work. So maybe he was embarrassed as he seethed from his pores, muscles tensed as an iron poker bent from his sheer will. He could hear your cries. Pathetic. 

As he turned to you- you were cowering in the chair, with your head in your hands. Rocking back and forth as you blubbered about. 

You weren't watching. 

The man wasn't cracking and Feitan's patience expired. With limbs now missing and blood soaking the floor surrounding them, he knew the man had been serious about dying rather than spilling information. 

So his focus was on you. 

With horror your head snapped up as a nasty crunching noise forced vomit up your dried throat, the man's neck snapping in half, head falling limp with a bouncy recoil. 

"Oh," you whimpered, you shrunk back as humanly possible. Coated in red, with anger, Feitan stalked his way to you. 

You stumbled from the chair, your flight kicking in for the first time since he'd brought you here. Crawling and kicking until your back hit the wall and the tears stream heavier than before, like you were smack dab in a horror movie. His grim eyes preying on you like you were nothing but a snack, a glimmering blade at his side that has you quaking. Terror as he stood over you. 

"Not watching." He hissed. 

"I'm sorry! N-ext time!" You cried, holding your hands up in a meek defense, "I'll be better,"

Feitan was high on adrenaline. Enraged by the lack of pleasure his torture session brought. Frustrated by your reaction. How scared you were of him when all he was trying to do was include you in his work, something he loved. Something he wanted you to watch with pride.

You shriek as he grabs hold of your legs, yanking you toward him. Preying on you like a monster as he crouched down to put weight on you, knife in hand. Such a sadistic look in his eyes as he ripped your shirt up enough to show him your rib cage. Legs flailing. Arms weakly hitting at him. But he didn't move. Feitan brought the tip of the knife down to your skin and you went limp with shock. No noise left your mouth after a few seconds until a throaty, airy cry sounded out with spasming of your eyes following. Blood trickled down your stomach as Feitan carved letter after letter against your pained jerks. Begging. Sobbing. You were a mess underneath him as your vision began to falter as terror and agony washed over you making you numb. 

"Next time, tie you on chair to watch." Feitan said with a smirk, possessively tracing the bloody gash that spelled out his name on your delicate skin. All you could do was cry and wheeze in and out of consciousness. 

And as you finally went limp, a heavy breath shuddered from Feitan's lips as the reality set in. He grimaced. It was pure adrenaline and anger that he acted on, and the aftermath was a sickening regret bubbling in his chest. Hurting you wasn't something he wanted to do again.. unless absolutely necessary. 

-

The following months you grew familiar with the schedule of when Feitan brought his victims and wanted you to watch. 

Perhaps you were too sensitive. Too much of an empath as each incision he made into a captive, you felt the carving of his name burn on your skin. Like a searing branding of understanding their pain, to an extent, that they went through. An understanding of being a victim like them, but you were luckier in a sick sense because you had Feitan's mercy of love. If you could call it that no matter how many times he insisted he took you for protection because you were his. 

Life with Feitan could be like living with a bomb, never knowing when or why it set off. Somedays you didn't look at him enough, others you stared too long and when his cheeks turned pink and he grew vicious. Learning his habits or moods was hard, but slowly you became accustomed.

Feitan liked to touch your waist, specifically shoving his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. His fingers would grip and prod even if you flinched from a sudden pinch. His greatest show of care was patting your head. He started doing so after you convinced him to let you take over meals, reminding him you always cooked for yourself prior. In another life basically. Then out of the blue Feitan took your things from the attic and into his room. You'd panicked looking for your missing plushies you needed to sleep, your missing pillow and favorite blanket. The dresser and closet were empty. Your toiletries were gone. Oh. Your heart sank, Feitan had enough of you. You were going to die. 

So you went back downstairs, ready for him to take you down to the basement and tie you up. You let your mind wander to what methods or tools he'd use. Maybe he'd be kind and make it quick. 

Feitan quirked a brow up as he saw your dejected form pad into the living room. You sat with a glazed, far away look on your face and immediately he panics. 

"Y/N?" To hear your name from his lips, made yours tremble.

"I'm sorry."

He was upon you within seconds, grasping at your arms to pull up your sleeves, "What's wrong? Hurt?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

A look of disgust flashed over his features, "No, never. You're mine."

"But my room?"

"Oh." Feitan's eyes immediately flit anywhere other than you, dropping your arms to rest on the couch. He was embarrassed and you're trying to figure out what's going on. "Moved into my room, figured you liked me more, things have been... nice."

Did you? Like him? Not particularly, right? Sure you liked the sound of his voice or when his eyes softened when you walked into the room. You thought the faces he made were cute asides from the maliciously crazy ones when he tortured somebody. And you were beginning to like feeling his touches, unsure advances that showed he was human in there somewhere. Because he wanted your approval, that much was apparent after all these months. Wanted you to watch him with pride and reassure he was touching you correctly, caring for you correctly. And perhaps you were flattered realizing how enthralled he was, how much he knew about you down to the most minor details. While you only knew he was a killer. So maybe you did like him in a twisted way, your brain fogging past details of cruelty and pushing up warm emotions instead. For your own good you needed to forget he forced you to watch others die, that he cut your own skin, that he might have killed your family. You bargained with yourself that perhaps him locking you in the attic was for your own good, that you needed to see Feitan in a better light and you only needed some time. Right?

"Oh!" Your relief is evident. And he looked happy to see that. "Oh my." You place your hand over your heart, breathing in and out. 

Feitan slowly rested a hand on top of your head, "Should have told you sooner... sorry."

"S'okay, misunderstanding. I'm good." 

Feitan nodded simply because he could feel your pulse begin to slow from its prior heightened pace, "Come." 

You followed behind him like a lost puppy needing its owner to find its way. Your heart felt at the bottom of your stomach, nervous to what Feitan had in mind moving you to his bedroom. The realization hit that you'd be in bed with him as you entered. His room was bare, which didn't surprise you. The only hint of life were your colorful blankets and plushies set up on the large bed. Two dressers, loveseat, and two doors you assumed were a bathroom and closet. Secretly you felt relief as it didn't smell of blood and there wasn't any sign of death.

Feitan watched you as you took your time to look around the room. He said nothing as you opened drawers to find your things, while some had his. The closet had more of your clothes. The ensuite was clean as well. He liked seeing you nod an approval of the space you'd share with him, filled him with pride. 

You sat on the bed. 

You felt along your blankets and then his own he originally had. You rearranged your stuffed doll. Fluffed your pillow. Not having changed out of the clothes you slept in last night, you decided not to change because you weren't sure what Feitan was expecting of you. Embarrassment licked the edges of your neck as you felt your palms begin to sweat. 

Terror coursed through your veins, your heart about to beat through your chest as you laid beside him. A few inches of space between the two of you. But it was suffocating as he joined you under the blanket. 

"Relax. Won't hurt you."

You gripped the sheets tighter, "Okay."

"Don't believe me."

"I'm sorry." You immediately countered, tensing.

Feitan sighed, trying to remember advice Chrollo gave him: to be more understanding and soft, "Sorry for cutting you few months ago, wanted you to see what I enjoy and you seemed not to care. But I enjoy you more so, only come to basement if you want now. Free reign over inside when I'm gone, just no hurting yourself. No going outside unless I'm with you."

Huh? "I- can go out?"

"With me."

"Can we go out tomorrow? Will it rain? Can I run around on the grass?" You were like a child in a candy store, excitement dripping through your tone that has Feitan's lips turning up in the dark. 

"If it rains tomorrow, go another time. Okay?"

"Yes. Perfect!" You were absolutely giddy, to the point personal space did not matter. You flung yourself across the bed to hug Feitan. Feeling his cold body you go still, filled you with horror realizing what you just did. "I'm sorry- I.."

Yet he wrapped an arm around you, ghosting along your skin like he was scared to scare you. He waited to see if you'd flinch away but you didn't. 

"Don't apologize, like this." He hugged you taut. 

There was nowhere to go but on him, really. You rested your head on his shoulder, forced to sprawl a leg across his own while your other wrenched beneath you. It felt like you may explode, a litany of conflicting emotions pulling you every which way. Hesitantly you placed your left hand across his chest, waiting for him to decide to hurt you or that this was taking it too far. But that never came. Feitan may have laid there like a statue, though after a few minutes he started squirming, attempting to relax with you in his arms while you listened to his wild heart beat.

You swallowed hard deciding to speak up, "I can move-"

"No." His words sounded laced with venom, but you could tell the slight difference. Feitan was nervous. Just like you were. 

Your lips parted but no words came out. The fact you were both enduring the same confusing emotions, unsure how to physically figure the other out, made you feel so close to him. He was on your level, just as scared. 

"Fei..tan?" You whispered his name, realization blossomed inside you and it was as if the last eight, maybe nine months were finally making sense!

"Yes?" It sounded, at least to you, like he was choking up.

"I- think I realize something. I think we're both awkward people and you didn't know how to go about any of this. Please hear me out." Boldly you pushed yourself out of his grip, pushing up on his chest so you could prop on your knees under the blanket. Feitan followed suit by sitting up to lean against the bed, quickly pulling the bedside lamp's string. He stared at you expectantly. So you continued with his full attention and the sudden coolness of losing his touch, "I think we feel the same way, not sure how to act around the other. I- don't get mad at me saying but you're very rough around the edges and I don't think anyone ever explained you shouldn't kidnap someone you love, or hurt them. But feeling your nerves, I'm realizing we're the same. I never know how to act around you, I thought you hated me or something but you're nervous too."

Your tongue felt numb as you spilled as many words as possible. Unsure if you made sense. Unable to look at Feitan as you spoke. 

He was quiet until a hand touched your cheek, "You- feel for me how I feel for you?"

You nod. 

Feitan brought your chin up so your gazes could connect. There was no maliciousness, only nerves. His lips aren't in their normal frown, instead they're slightly parted. He pulled you closer, hating that you chose to sit inches too far for his taste, having been in his arms prior. 

You let out a whine as Feitan leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips. Your body was begging for him to close the gap, your stomach a fluttering mess of butterflies working its way through your ribcage. Blood pounded in your ears, 

"Feitan?"

"Quiet." Fingers shake as you bring them to run through his black locks, causing a shiver to go down his spine and the smallest of noises to come from his throat. You found something he enjoyed and your heart felt content as you massaged along his scalp as his lips lay centimeters from yours.

The kiss was hesitant. Barely a peck as the touch of your lips had you both upright, shocked, staring at the other. Like a deer in headlights you waited for him to get upset, to kill you even. But he only captured your lips again, for a deeper kiss as your lips meshed together. His tongue pushed in, exploring your mouth greedily as he squeezed your waist. You made a noise as he flipped you underneath him, slamming his mouth back against yours as he pressed himself into you. 

When you two parted, gasping for air, uncertain as you each explored each other's bodies, a gentle smile pulled at the corners of your lips. Feitan licked along your jaw, licked down your neck occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin. You whimpered and he pulled away as if you'd stabbed him.

"Liked.. that?" When you nodded his eyes glossed over. You liked it as he sucked and bit at your neck. What other pain could he inflict to bring you pleasure? You really were made for him, he told himself. 

You reach up to try to take one of his hands into yours, he obliged, put his weight on his other forearm, "So.. I.." Embarrassment hit you and you suddenly felt ridiculous for what you were about to ask.

"What."

"Are we..?"

"Don't understand."

Your face went red, you looked away still feeling his breath across your face, "Never mind."

"Go to sleep, you're thinking too hard." Feitan huffed as he rolled off you, "Taking you outside tomorrow, you need rest."

"Okay."

To your surprise he hugged you from behind, nestling up to you, letting you slot into him as if it were the perfect fit. You could tell this was new, not something he did from how tense his body was. Sleep finally began to overtake your senses. A blossoming happiness in your chest as he traced a finger along your skin whilst holding your waist. 

You fell asleep with a smile. Fell asleep with your back to his chest, him spooning you as if this was suddenly normal. As if you were an ordinary couple. You found comfort in his quiet breaths and knowing he'd watch over you. That night you dreamed of the day you met Feitan, and it changed, no longer was it filled with blood and cries, but a joy as if it were love at first sight. You two hand in hand walking off to a new life. 

-

That morning you awoke with not a care in the world. You thought waking up to an empty bed would hurt, but nothing would diminish the smile smacked onto your lips. From an amazing dream to remembering your first kiss with Feitan, nothing could have taken that away. Giddy, you dressed in your most comfortable outfit and skipped out to face the rest of your day with excitement, feeling lighter than ever. The normal weight and anxiety you woke up with, was gone, replaced with a sense of purpose.  

A list formed in your head of what you wanted to do. 1. Check the weather and if Feitan doesn't have to work, 2. Make breakfast, 3. Go outside.

The morning sun was strong amidst the blue, cloudless sky as you stared out the kitchen window. You grinned before grabbing ingredients you'd need for breakfast, hoping Feitan would be joining, but regardless you'd cook for him. You worked with a hop in your step, movements nonchalant as you continued to glance at the mid-morning sky. Too focused to feel a presence hidden, watching, until- 

"You look... happy." 

You squeaked, jumping at the sudden voice. You felt his dark aura first before you turned to see him, standing in the doorway, "Good morning. Hungry?"

Feitan nodded, inching over to the table. Your smile ignites a pain in his chest that he didn't understand. As he looked over you, all he could think about was his lips on yours and the addiction of it that stained his blood. How you'd snuggled into him. How in your sleep you'd begged him not to leave you. Feitan doesn't think he likes the churning in his stomach or the nerves coursing through him as he looks at you- it scares him. You had the power to turn him into this. 

"Made scrambled eggs and toast, that okay?" You set a plate in front of him, creases at the corner of your eyes as you do so. 

"Yes." He watched as you got him something to drink, then sat down with your own food. On the tip of his tongue are questions about last night, but Feitan felt ridiculous asking if you liked kissing him, or if he could do it again.

"Is it okay? Made it kind of quick, it's a nice day out." You smiled warmly at him, expectantly.

"Yes, good. We'll go outside when you're done."

He remembered and was following through, it meant the world to you. So you finish eating to clean up, which he surprised you by doing himself.

You were like an excited puppy standing by the front door bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

"Stay in my sight. Can't run anywhere without me finding."

"I know I know. Can I run around the yard at least?"

"Sure." His threat went right over your head. It hits him that you don't need a threat to stay put. You weren't planning anything. 

It didn't take long to undo the litany of locks on the door, it didn't matter if you knew where any keys were kept. Nen was the key factor to them.

He had to urge you out, that it really was okay to be outside, "Go out, I'll be sitting right here." He said rubbing the low of your back. 

After a few grueling seconds you comply, a small giggle as you hurry off the porch. There was pure glee on your face, in your body and voice as your feet touched the grass. Squealing you carefully move around, skipping one way then the other.

You were a curious thing to Feitan, who found nothing interesting in the nature that surrounded the house. But you, running around in circles until you collapsed out of breath, loved it. You looked serene, stunning, just taking the breath away from Feitan as he watched you. You were perfect. 

It hurt. It hurt. Feitan's convinced he was dying. Heaviness weighing on his chest and shoulders as he watched you. He didn't know how to be what you need. For the first time since kidnapping you he questions his judgment seeing how happy you were being outside, something he'd stolen from you. He wondered if he could give you the love you deserved when he'd never experienced it himself. While he hated himself. While he hated what was inside his darkened mind compared to the light that was you. So ethereal and kind, unlike him whose hands would forever be tainted. 

Unbeknownst to you, Feitan retreated within himself while you basked in the summer sun. 

-

Five weeks ago Feitan kissed you. He'd taken you outside and it'd been one of the best days of your life. You were certain it was the turning point in the relationship but- it wasn't. Things weren't worse by any means, but he treated your touch like the plague. 

It felt like a continuous stab to the heart, every minute of the day at this point. You felt stupid. After a week of attempting physical contact in bed or on the couch, you gave up not wanting to further embarrass yourself. And slowly the conversation died out. He stopped eating meals at the table. Staying as far away as possible in bed, you began moving your pillows back up to the attic, which caused him to intervene. Making it clear you weren't permitted to do that, he locked the door to the attic shortly after.

He left two weeks ago for an important job. You only knew he was okay because Phinks stopped by to check on you and bring food. It took everything in you not to ask Phinks for advice, you'd only met him in passing and Feitan was... absurdly possessive. Even his closest 'friend' couldn't get within a foot of you without facing Feitan's wrath. 

So you spent the days alone re-reading a book because you can't quite pay attention to it. You spend too long staring out the window by the front door, yearning pathetically from the couch. Knowing there were cameras kept you from crying for a strange reason you couldn't pinpoint, perhaps wanting to seem strong if he checked in. 

You think it's Friday, 16 days since Feitan left. Time blended together, especially when he wasn't there to mark the calendar. 

Frustration bubbled in your chest as you threw your towel into the corner of the bathroom. Your wet hair seeps into your nightgown, purple hues taking over the blue sky. You want to throw your shampoo, then your body wash you think. For a second you felt the appeal of thrashing your fist into the sink mirror. How good that would feel, you'd have control over something. 

Breathe in. Out.

You count in your head, staring at your reflection with disgust. This would show him, right? You thought about him finding you all bloody, the panic that would consume him, and hopefully guilt too. 

Tears prick your eyes, you huff moving back. Your reflection blurred. Annoyance grew, controlled her until-

SLAM. The sound of the front door closed suddenly, announcing that Feitan was back- and in the manner the door slammed, told you he wasn't alone. 

You scamper out of the bathroom, practically forgetting your prior plans, needing to catch a glimpse of Feitan.

In his arms, he carried an unconscious woman bound and gagged. 

Your stomach plummeted. 

He glanced your way once before disappearing down to the basement. 

Lips trembling, you stumbled forward, acting against better judgment. The air leading down to Feitan's torture room was dense and metallic scented. Rotted and death-like. You hated it down there, you felt bile rise up into your throat but you pushed through the fear that begged you to turn back. 

You stood hidden behind the doorway, peaking in just so you could see Feitan had already finished tying her down in the chair. You weren't sure if he felt your presence as if he did he made no effort to greet you. Did he not miss you? Your fists clench as you rake across the battered woman, taking her in. She was beautiful. Fuck. The only relief you felt was that she sat in that chair- meaning she wasn't here to replace you. Feitan hadn't put you in that chair ever. 

You stepped through the doorway as Feitan picked up a knife from a table.

Feitan's head snapped in your direction. His body language went taut, surprised, so he hadn't noticed you. He'd been too wrapped up in the woman who passed you in beauty in every way possible. Did he notice that as he looked at you now? Self conscious thoughts attack your mind as you drop your head. 

"You're- you want to watch?" His voice was filled with hope, not that you noticed. You heard it as disgust by having you in the room.

You nod, drop into your chair beside the door, one you hadn't sat in, in five weeks. 

For the first time he didn't need to remind you to watch his every action. 

Your eyes couldn't be pried from his hands. He wondered if you were even blinking. What happened for this change? Feitan wracked his brain as he cut into the woman. He didn't notice what he was doing, hardly listening to her cries and shit information spilling from her lips. Did something happen to you? Phinks said you were fine. Feitan's thoughts flick to his recent closed-off behavior, knowing it had to be upsetting you. Shit. That was it, right? He moved on to more cuts, more stabs to bleed his prisoner dry. She was saying things he already knew, he told Chrollo this woman would be useless, so this was a waste. Why were you choosing to watch this? He wanted to look at you but also needed to finish work, for once torturing another being was boring him. He wanted to get back to you, needed to talk to you, apologize even. 

SLAM. 

You were reeling- unable to contain yourself as you stormed from the room. One second your eyes were flickering from floor to the captive's body following Feitan's every movement, to watching the walls of the basement fly by as you raced towards a bathroom. 

Disgust curdled inside you. Anger wrenched at your limbs. You fumed as you remembered how he touched that woman's body as if torturing her was a sensual dance. It made you sick to see how his fingers would flit along parts of her skin that you dreamed he'd touch on yourself.  He hadn't looked at you! You gagged over the toilet, head pounding as your body attempted to heave bile from your stomach. Dizzied with jealousy and hurt, you want to cry. Maybe attempt to slap Feitan if he'd let you. You think of your idea with the mirror, that could work.

Feitan stood outside the door, as soon as you opened it, you walked face first into his chest. Out of reflex you shoved him back, wide eyed at him. 

"What's wrong? Throw up?" There was concern written all over him. Actual legitimate emotion, softness in his face as he inched closer. 

"Dry heaved." You said, unable to hold back the snark in your tone. 

"Okay?" 

You glared, confidence surging within you as all you could see was green. Feitan took a step back, surprised. "Seriously?" You huffed, "Just go back to your work." 

As you turn to leave him standing dumbfounded in the hall to head upstairs, his hand wrapped around your bicep. You're pulled back with force that makes you lose your breath. Your back's forced against the stone wall, Feitan caging you between his arms. "What is wrong with you?"

You swallow, the lump in your throat refusing to go. You felt instant shame with yourself but yet- didn't he deserve your anger? Was he really that dense with your emotions? Squaring yourself, you wouldn't back down, "I'm fine. Just.. go back to her." 

Oh! "Funny girl." Feitan cackled. A shallow, chill inducing laugh escaped his lips. 

Incredulously you shook your head, "Why are you laughing?"

He pushed himself off the wall and away from you. Still fucking laughing. 

You balled your fists and walked over to him, fuming. "Stop it!" He let you hit his chest with your fists, let you throw your little temper tantrum as amusement danced in his dark eyes. 

It was when tears began to fall did he finally compose himself. Feitan wiped the stray tears and wouldn't let you look away from him, hand possessively holding your jaw. "Jealous." He smirked. "My silly girl jealous over my work. Work, Y/N."

"I-It's not that- not the same. You've.. You've never brought a girl back here before." Oh god if only you could curl up under a blanket and hide, shame crossing your face, "It's not funny." 

"How is it not? You're jealous over someone who will die."

"You're touching her." You spat, "You don't touch me, barely. Not after.. I thought." Taking a deep breath you collected yourself before beginning, "Since you moved me into your room, since we kissed and fell asleep together, you act like it never happened and ignore me for weeks. So yes I'm jealous of her, you're touching her so gently and in places I want you to touch me."

Your confession threw Feitan off his axis, processing your words at a million miles an hour yet it was like he stared at you brain dead. He really fucked this up. "I'm not being gentle. I'm torturing her." He did not understand how you thought he was being intimate with a prisoner, it killed him to stay away from you. 

"But you brush along her so gently before making cuts, I thought I was going to die!" And he'd skipped past the part where you brought up the kiss and how he'd held you. Of course, "I'm going to go take a nap."

He let you go, watching your dejected form march up the wooden stairs. His brows furrowed over what the fuck just happened. He'd let you storm off and speak to him in a way he'd never imagine you would.  

Feitan clenched his fists. He wanted to follow after you but there was one final thing he needed to take care of. 

Red cascaded down the front of the woman as he slit her throat. Her tears and pleading only fueling the fire started within him. He stripped himself of his gear, leaving him blood free to chase after you.

You don't move from where you lay under the covers in his bed, but Feitan knew you weren't asleep. He pads to the bed, carefully sitting on the edge next to you.

"Y/N."

You don't respond.

He sighed, "She's dead." You visibly tensed. 

You begrudgingly sit up knowing you've been caught, looking at him with reddened eyes. "Oh."

Feitan tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear, "Since our kiss, I don't know how to act around you."

His omission makes you frown, "I don't understand."

"When you said you felt for me how I felt for you.. made me happy. You kissed me back, wanted me to hold you. I didn't expect it, thought you'd regret it later so I ran."

"I thought you regretted it." 

"Never."

"I feel.. dumb." You said. 

"Little foolish. But, I like that. Your jealousy is cute." He smirked, "But no reason to be anymore, okay?" You nod, scooting closer to him. Feitan tucks an arm around you, cradling the side of your head, "Was happy you came down to watch but, guess I know why now."

"Maybe I can.. slowly come down for little bits? I- don't like it but, you like it when I watch you work." You're burning, nauseas, because the last thing you wanted was to listen to screams, to bones breaking, to the noises that'd keep you up at night. But it would be for Feitan.

"I would like that." He nodded with sick excitement behind his eyes. 

Silence. Softened smiles. Fluttering heart beats as a thick tension develops between you two. He was staring at your lips, your neck, and you couldn't tear yourself away from him. Closer, you silently lean in as your breathing turns heavy. You were sure he could hear your hammering heart beat as if it'd burst from your chest.

The gap closed. Your lips meet in a dance of uncertainty as self consciousness absorbs your minds until it bursts from need. Feitan was cold, certain as he pressed his lips hard to yours over and over, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. On fire as you gasp from the pain, metallic blood enters your mouth as Feitan's tongue pushes its way in. He explored you as his fingers dig into your side, your tongue dancing along his as electricity runs through your veins. You think your whole body is trembling, or maybe it was his as the kiss turned desperate, teeth gnashing, tongues shoved down the other's throat as saliva mixed; once light kisses turned to an all out way for the two of you to claim the other. 

Feitan helped your legs wrap around his waist before he flipped you underneath him hovering over you on the bed. His whimpers against your mouth were the greatest thing you think you'll ever hear. And his need to control you, to possess you as his made your head go cloudy with want as his mouth worked against yours. He was consuming you as his confidence grew. That pit in his stomach growing with the certainty of your feelings, the change of the tide after nine months, that he felt. You wanted him. You understood everything he'd done had been to show you his feelings. So now he'd claim you like he should have weeks ago, rather than worry about the kiss. 

Atop you, he watched with dark glee how you panted, mewled for him as he pulled away to watch you. You clambered for him as you were out of breath, saliva dripping from the side of your lips. In a swift motion he lifted your torso and pulled your shirt from your body, and as he pushed you back he leaned down entranced by your bare skin. He bit into your collarbone, licked along the mark that broke skin. You'd gasped in surprise, fingers twisting into his top, tears glistening in your eyes. 

He continued to mark you, your cries music to him as he broke more of your skin with his teeth. Blood trickling only to be licked up by Feitan. You'd be littered with hickeys in the morning and the thought of you all bruised up made his cock twitch. Feitan slowly nibbled along one of your hardened nipples, studying how your body reacted. You were a desperate little thing he learned quickly as he sucked on your nipples, groping and molding your breasts with his strong fingers. Already quaking- how pathetic. 

Feitan began to wonder if you'd done this before, because in the year he'd watched you, you never brought someone home or went to another's. But a possessive streak hits him and he doesn't want to know, because no one else would ever have you from here on out. He was going to make your cunt into the shape of his cock, make it so you'd never want or need anyone else. 

"Fei," You whined, and the usage of a nickname made his head snap up to meet your lidded eyes. Your hips bucked against his as he straddled you and the discomfort of his hardened cock in his slacks began to gnaw at his brain. 

As his fingers begin to toy with your waist band, he lets himself wonder if this was a dream. He'd have been as patient as you needed him to be. So to think everything he dreamed about for almost 2 years was coming to fruition? He stripped himself of his top and slacks, leaving only his underwear. 

Fear clamped in the back of your mind as if you needed to escape. But as the cool air met your exposed entrance as Feitan tossed your boxers away, you relinquished yourself to him. He admired you from his knees as he pushed your thighs apart. 

"Tell me what you want." A mischievous glint shone in his eyes and you shivered. 

"Y-you Feitan." You squirmed under his heavy gaze, desperately wanting to cover up. He inspected every inch of you, but he always came back to the scar on your rib cage that held his name. His property. 

Feitan shuddered hearing how lustfully you spoke his name, he liked this sudden change in dynamic. Liked how you begged for him so easily as he stroked so close but not quite at your most sensitive areas. Your pussy glistened, liquid coating your folds and slowly dripping to the sheets. 

You could only see his dark eyes as your world spun on its axis. You feel him between your legs, tongue leisurely licking along your aching clit. Taking his time he listened to your whimpers, to your gasps as he changed the pace. You're grasping the sheets, knuckles white as your entrance fluttered in want. He latched onto your clit, and you cried as he suckled and teeth brushed along your sensitive bundle of nerves. Working you up to a climax, he presses his palms into your legs to keep them open. You're shaking. You're desperately trying to escape an onslaught your poor brain and body had never experienced before. It wasn't longer before you cried out, visiting turning black then white as you came, hips jerking and your lips babbling nonsense. Feitan continued to lick helping you come down, pride beaming from his chest. Internally thanking Phinks for all the times over the years he pushed him into sharing someone's bed, that he needed practice, all for you even if he didn't know it yet. 

You moaned, furiously blinking before his tongue dances along your folds, licking and sucking at your cum like it's the best meal he'd ever taste. Tongue prodding at your entrance, his gaze flicks up to see you watch him in awe and pleasure, as he licks along your walls. Your clit is puffy as he worked his way back up, a finger delicately toying at your entrance as you gasp. More? 

Feitan hummed against your clit, liquid pleasure pulsing within him but all he could do was grind against the mattress, he wanted to see you come apart some more. You babble something incoherent as he brings a finger up and covers it in your arousal, gently sucking still. His middle finger sunk in with ease, your back arching as he fills you. He adds another. He smiled so cruelly as your heat welcomed them so greedily. 

"Tight cunt." Feitan groaned, "So wet. Taste so good." He hummed against your clit and the vibrations made you whimper. 

You're moaning for him like he was your life line. Sucking him in and begging for more and you were starting to wonder which way was up or down. His tongue oscillating in mesmerizing circles along your clit, his fingers curling along your gummy walls that beg him for more. You were on the edge. You felt pleasure building you up so deliciously, "Fei, more, more, feel good." 

For a second he froze as one of your hands tangle in his hair, but seeing you blissed out in his bed- he made you nearly sob as added a third finger stretching you apart as he cruelly sucked your clit until your moans are cries, gasping and loud, as if you were in pain. But instead, once more, ecstasy blossomed in your abdomen right as you thought you'd burst, and tears fell fast. You came on his tongue and fingers, squirt dribbling, your cunt fluttering around him as his motions slowed. 

"Pretty." He cooed as he watched your writhing body with curiosity. 

A confused cry left you as his touch disappeared, but you watched as he stripped himself of his underwear, finally leaving him bare. 

"Gonna fuck you. All mine." 

You whimper as he settles between your legs, his thick cockhead prodding at your slick entrance. 

"Be good and take me." Feitan grunted as he began to push in. 

"F-Fei- Virgin- I-I'm a-" You cried as you thrashed on the sheets, feeling as if Feitan was splitting you in two as he sheathed himself inside you.

An onslaught of butterflies swarmed in his stomach and could have come on the spot from your words alone. A virgin? He knew you were meant to be his, and him yours. 

"There you go, tight cunt for me to fill." He pressed his lips to yours, knots in his core tightened as he thrusted deeper, hips to the hilt as he was finally claiming you, filling you. 

He watched your eyes go wide, eyes spasming from the intrusion. Your gummy walls squeezing his cock so good as she attempted to accommodate his size. Feitan swallowed hard, trying to stifle his own noises, desperately wanting to be so far in you that you'd never think of anything else. 

Blood trickled from your cunt and onto the sheets and it stirred Feitan's hips into a bruising pace as he felt the warmth of your virgin blood surrounding his cock. Liked knowing what he did to you, watching his outline in your stomach as he pushed down, a slimy grin forming on his lips. 

He wanted to break you. But he felt himself losing composure as he pounded into your tight cunt. The two of you consumed with warmth and fire spreading along your nerves as together, you chased an intense high consummating some sick love. 

"Mine." You were losing your mind as Feitan grunted those words, "Mine." He snapped his hips and you gasped from the intrusion of his cock against your womb, "Tell me who you belong to."

Your pretty eyes were hazy, rolling back into your head as your poor fucked out brain couldn't comprehend. His cock felt so perfect inside your pussy that coated him in your cream from the bliss you felt. 

"You!" You cry out, "Fei- Feitan. You! I'm yours." You sobbed, only his name on your tongue and on your mind. 

Feitan relished in the sight of his cock fucking into you, disappearing into your depth, his hips flushed with your own. And each time he pulled out, the sight of your bloodied cum on his length made him shudder. He gathered your discharge on his thumb and used it to coat your clit, relentlessly rubbing over it. His hips started to move again, desperately forcing himself deeper as he played with your bud. Your cunt spasming around him again as you attempted to escape his onslaught of overstimulation. 

"T-Too much- can't Fei-"

"Never push me away," He threatened, leaning down to nip at your ear, "Will punish you."

You whimpered but the way your cunt opened up for him told him all he needed to know-- the pain, the helplessness, he was turning you on. Straightening again he continued to fuck into you, swiping over your clit, far past the point of pleasing you, rough thrusts hitting your g-spot over and over. You let out an honest to god cry as your third orgasm hit, words thick and hard to understand but Feitan understood how you begged and pleaded for him. 

Feitan gripped your hips harder so he could drive into you at a relentless pace, throwing his head back, looking up to the ceiling as he gave you all he had. You pulsed around him all swollen and tight and he knew he wouldn't last much longer,

"Gonna fill you up. Take my cum in your pussy. Mine. My pussy- you're mine." Feitan was past the point of keeping quiet as his possessiveness slammed into him full force. The thought of his cum painting your insides and leaking out... 

Falling forward he crushed his mouth onto yours, giving several long thrusts before his vision whited out as he came. Cock twitching as he filled you to the brim, hips stuttering all the way against you, hot, thick ropes of cum coating you. Claiming you. Becoming one with you. 

His pace slowed but his lips never left yours, the two of you panting into each other as you came down. Feitan pulled away, resting his forehead to yours, your eyes meeting. Vulnerability. Like truly seeing each other for the first time. He stroked your cheekbones carefully, trying to sense any fear. But nothing. Your eyes shone with a million stars as you shuddered, staring at him, hips twitching as he pulled out. Leaving you emptier than you'd ever been. 

Feitan pulled away, dropping back to his knees, carefully stroking along where he'd carved his name into your skin, stroking down your waist then to your thighs. His touch cold, addictive as he thumbed along your leaking folds, his cum beginning to drip down. "Mine."

"Yours."

He stared at you before his cheeks tinted pink, "I'm yours too. Only yours. Don't care about stupid woman I tortured, just my job. You're my.. life. Won't give you space again, won't run if I get scared, this was all my fault, I didn't want to bring you pain. I'll make it up to you." 

Your eyes widen with love filling them, a stupidly happy grin washing over you from the gravity of his words, "I love you." 

Feitan froze like he was in head on collision, by your proclamation. Love. Did he deserve that? No. He didn't deserve your love but he couldn't deny the happiness he felt in his chest and how his pulse skyrocketed, "Love you as well."

Feitan laid at your side, stroking along your body as sleep eventually overcame you. You seemed so innocent, so small lying in his arms like that. Watching you sleep was a favorite pastime, but knowing you slumbered with his cum buried in you was enough to entrance him back into your gravity. 

Your passed out form hardly reacted to his touches, soft moans as he slid his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt. Little twitches as he sucked on your nipples. And you stayed asleep as he slipped his re-hardened cock back inside of your abused cunt, full heartedly welcoming him in. 

The bed creaked and thumped against the wall as he let loose, let his grunt and sobs loudly leave him as he fucked you full once more. This was heaven. Pure bliss. Not even torturing made him feel this way, so high, so invincible. Feitan indulged in you until he was a whiny overstimulated mess, heaving atop you and leaving even more marks. He fucked you until he couldn't cum anymore, dumping two more loads into your pussy that became swollen and tight, a perfect fit for his cock.