#phinks x reader

Chrollo

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feitan

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

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

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

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

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

You're nice and warm, too.

Hisoka

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

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

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

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

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

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

Illumi

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

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

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

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

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

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

Machi

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

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

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

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

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

Pakunoda

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phinks

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shalnark

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shizuku

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uvogin

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't look away from me," he murmurs. "Your eyes. Let me see them. I need to see you." His mouth is on your neck, his hands roaming over your skin. He's desperate. His tongue follows the path of his lips, tasting the air with a fervour that borders on the needy. He lets out a ragged exhale that turns into a moan against your flesh.

"You're mine," he groans. "You're perfect. You're mine."

Dalzollene

Dalzollene is pressed against your body, hands at your hips. His head dips to kiss you, lips trailing across your jaw and down the column of your throat. "You're so good to me," he murmurs between pecks and kisses. "Good," he repeats. He presses closer against you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. Dalzollene's body presses hard against yours, pushing you back against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hips to come up under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place. His lips find your sensitive point just under your jaw, and he nips you there. "My good girl." He says, as though he means it. "Gods, you're good to me." His kisses are hot, almost feverish, against your skin as his lips dance and suck to a new spot after just leaving the last. One hand grabs your hip tighter, pinning you to the wall behind you. The other slides down your chest and stomach, leaving fire in every place his fingertips graze you. "You're gonna make me weak if you keep being so good to me," he rasped against your neck. "Oh, you're so goddamn good to me." Dalzollene nips the soft flesh of your collarbone.

Feitan

"Ouch-!" Feitan lets out a soft laugh against your lips. His teeth nip at your skin, taking the tiniest tastes of you, relishing in the sweet moan that escapes your throat as he does so. His hand curls around your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

"You are delicious," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "I could feast on you for eternity." Feitan's hand slides back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He tugs, pulling your head back and baring your neck for him. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Who do you belong to?" He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Say it. Let me hear those sweet little words." His hand continues to grasp at you, as if he cannot get enough of your touch. His teeth graze against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the line of your pulse. "Whose are you?" He breathes, his voice as soft and sweet as honey. "Tell me. Who do you belong to? Answer me. I will have my name on your hips, your back, everywhere. I'll carve it into you."

Ging

"Watch my-?" Ging stutters before cutting himself off, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He blinks once, twice, before letting out a soft, almost inaudible exhale of breath. "My tongue?" Ging pulls you against him. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you right flush against him. Gings other hand slides lower, slipping down to your hip.

"You're a brat, aren't you? No one ever complained about my kisses, ever." He murmurs, smirking. "Probably cause you never ever kissed someone, ever." You mock him. "You've always been a brat." Ging lets out a quiet laugh.

He tugs his hand from your hair, coming to rest it on your hip instead; his grip tightens ever-so-slightly. The hand at your stomach begins to rise, creeping just beneath the edge of your shirt. His hand slides higher, fingertips brushing against your skin, just shy of the waistband of your pants. Ging lets your ear fall against the crook of his neck, the action bringing you even more closely against him than you were a moment ago— it's as though he's attempting to meld the two of you together like an experiment.

He grins. "How long has it been since you've been on your best behaviour?"

Hanzo

Hanzo is a mess of kisses. He worships your lips like a shrine, he worships the curve of your neck, he worships the slope of your shoulders, the dip of your waist, everything. In a moment, he is a man drowning in an ocean of bliss— his body pressed against yours, his hands gripping you tight, holding you close to him.

The man is a kiss-soaked mess— his body a trembling mess, every kiss turning him to jelly. He holds onto you like he never wants to let go. "Did you ever-" but you were quickly shut down, "Never before." The answer comes in hushed, urgent tones. His hands trail over you like fire, tracing the curves and lines of your body like your skin is a map he wants to re-draw a thousand times.

"Never like this." His hands roam down your back. "Not with anyone like this." His words end on a gasp as his hand comes down to cup you, his touch possessive and almost reverent. It is a caress, but at the same time, it's claiming you.

"I have longed to touch you," he whispers, his words like a prayer. "To caress you… to hold you…" His words are like nothing he'd ever thought of before, but he seems to be spilling them without a care. It's as if he has been holding them back for years, and your touch has forced them out. For the first time, Hanzo is a man without a filter, no hesitation, no hesitance. "To touch you..." he murmurs, as he leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. "So desperately."

Hisoka

"Yes." He moans between kisses, arching up into you. He presses his body against yours, as close as two souls can be. Every kiss, every touch, only makes the fire inside him grow. His fingers, cold as moonlight, dance over your skin. His lips are soft, but his touch is hungry— he wants you, needs you, like a starving puppy that only a single meal will suffice. "Oh," he whispers against your lips, "OH~" he moans, "Mmm, yes, keep it coming." He lets out a shuddering breath. Hisoka's fingers dip into your hair and thread through the soft strands, grabbing the locks in a way that makes it hard for you escape from his hold.

"So good. You're so good, so—" He cuts off a moan, his breath hitching in anticipation of something. "Can you shut the fuck up, clown ass-" you blurt out.

Hisokas eyes gleam, sparkling like jewels as he looks up at you. He loves it when you take control like this. All those sounds he made before are nothing compared to his cocky grin now. "Mmm, make me," he responds, teasingly.

Hisoka's hand slides up your arm, all the way up and his fingers dig into your shoulder hard. His smirk is playful, but that look in his eyes… that's no joke. A low growl rolls past his lips. 

"I dare you," he teases. "Make me shut up."

Illumi

Kissing Illumis lips feels like kissing a statue. His body is rigid, like the very air around him has frozen. The only response you get from him is from the way he shudders against you, or from the soft sound that slips from his lips when your tongue touches against his.

The kiss feels as if it were frozen in time. Illumi is completely and utterly frozen. The only sign he makes of life in his body is his hands— they're resting on your shoulders, fingers curling and releasing.

Your lips part from his, it's pointless and in a way embarrassing for you to keep going. "Did you...ever made out before?" "No." His answer is simple. His fingers grip tighter against your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him. The stiffness in his body grows to the point that you might believe he stopped breathing entirely.

"Mother has taught me." "WHAT?!" "She said that making out, or kissing is a waste of time and should not be part of the relationship process. It takes away too much time." "Ah-"

The little sound you make makes Illumi pause.

His fingers flex and loosen against your shoulders. He's tense, body frozen in place, when suddenly he pulls you a little tighter.  "Ah," he repeats, your single little sound is so perfect to his ears. Soft and breathy.

"Well, seems like you have to...teach me then."

Kite

"My everything." Kite's fingers trail along your jaw, over your lips, tracing the lines of your face. "My only love."  He buries his nose into your neck, breathes you in. "Please." He says, the word almost a whimper of desire.

"Please, don't ever jump so reckless into danger again." "...Promise." "I hope so." The corners of Kite's lips curl up into a slight, affectionate smile, but it's a shaky smile. He buries a hand into your silken hair and breathes against your throat.

"Promise me you'll run when i tell you to. You stay where you are when i tell you to. You do as i tell you to. We don't know what we might encounter in NGL."

"Good." Kite's entire body relaxed, a shudder coming over him as your word echoed through his mind. He breathed out against your skin, nuzzling into that sweet spot beneath your jaw. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips against you in a kiss, and again, and again. He wants to lose himself in you.

"Please, do as told and leave me behind if you must."

Knov

Knov's lips are as cold as his skin is warm. It's a strange sensation, one that seems both heavenly and sinful at once. His arms are wrapped around you as though he would never let go. There's an almost reverent expression on his face as his lips connect with yours, and his hands roam your body as if he is trying to prove to himself you're really there.

He kisses you. Deeply and passionately, as if he were starving and you were the first thing that wasn't ice in his mouth. Knov's lips are cold, his hands hot against your skin. He guides you closer to him, one arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, a stark contrast to the cold of his lips.

His other hand is buried in your hair, fingers tangled in your locks like a man who was desperate to touch you. "Gods, you're beautiful," he murmurs. Knov's eyes roam over you almost possessively, as though he wants to look at every inch of you. He's silent like this, for the first time in as long as you can remember. He's so focused, so intent on you, that he has forgotten how to hold a conversation. All of his attention is on you— your form, the way your hair bounces as you move, the way your clothes mould themselves against you— he's completely captivated.

When he finally does speak again, his voice is rough. Deep and husky.

"I've missed you."

Knuckle

"C-Chill out-!" Knuckle's reaction to that is quite a lot of things, most of them sinful, and you can't tell when he stops kissing you or when he pulls back. For a moment he just stares at you, eyes wide. "You-" he breaths. The words fail him, replaced by a soft, shaky exhale. For a moment he's too stunned to move, staring.

But then, you're pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you as close to his body as humanly possible. He buries his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin. The way he kisses is desperate, desperate like a man starving in the desert. His breaths are hot against your skin, and his hands are gripping your waist, holding onto you so tightly he fears you might disappear.

"What as gotten into you." you chuckle lightly as his lips and hair tickle your skin. "You," he chokes out, his voice coming as a sharp gasp against your neck. His head lifts, and he kisses down the column of your neck, and you can hear the way he says "you" between kisses, and it sounds like a prayer, like a plea, like a vow. "You've gotten into me—"

Kurapika

"Feeling better?" You ask him, holding his face gently in your hands. "The world feels less cold," he admits. His hands come up to hold your face. He's never seen anything as precious as you before, and there is a sense of reverence in the way that he looks at you.

"I've never felt... whole." His fingertips trace the lines of your jaw. "I'm better now," he says, voice barely above a whisper. As he speaks, Kurapika's hands are still tracing the expanse of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the curve of your cheeks— as if he's memorising how it feels to finally touch you.

His eyes have softened when they look at you. The tension in his body seems to have left at last. "I'm better when I'm with you," he says. He kisses you. His lips are soft and warm against yours, the taste like sweet wine against your tongue, a heady mix of sweetness and intoxicating desire.

His arms are gentle as they wrap around your waist, drawing you closer still. As if your proximity isn't enough, he pulls you over so that you're sat atop  of him on his lap. His lips are hungry— a desperate need against your mouth as he kisses you over and over again.

Leorio

Leorio kisses back fiercely, lips pressing against yours fervently, tongue slipping past your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, fingers tangling gently in your hair, cradling you against him as if he cannot get enough of you. He melts at your touch, breath leaving him in soft, shuddering gasps. He pulls back just slightly, only by millimeters— his lips just barely ghosting over your skin, his breath hot and needy and soft against your neck. Leorio swallows, lips parting slightly. The sound of his breath against your skin has an unmistakable undertone of need. He presses closer, pressing his body against yours, body shaking against you. Every breath he takes has his name falling from his lips.

"Gods," he gasps, voice a desperate whisper. "Bab…I don't know how much patience I have left."

He presses his lips between your collarbones, leaving soft, reverent kisses against smooth flesh. "I'm going crazy." You are making him absolutely unravel.

He murmurs your name as he presses kisses against your neck. He's whimpering now, a litany of praise against your skin like a desperate prayer. "Your- Gods, I need you-" His fingers clutch at your shirt, body trembling. "-I need to be closer to you."

The way he's shuddering against you is like a leaf in the wind. A shudder, a press, another kiss to your skin. "I'm going to break if I don't have you now."-

Menthuthuyoupi

"Wait-! Not so r-!" Menthuthuyoupi gasps, a low, startled sound that catches in his throat. He blinks down at you. "Not so rough?" His words are muffled against the soft plush of your lips, but the sound is clear. He pauses, lifting his head slightly— his lips barely leave yours, and he's still close enough that his body is flush against yours. His mouth brushes against your lips, the sound of his deep and gravelly voice rumbling from his chest.

He leans closer, his eyes still fixed on yours, and he murmurs. "Or not so loud?"

"Rough-!" "Yes." His breath is hot on your face, his tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate stroke of heat. A shudder runs through him as he pulls back just enough to speak. He tilts his head, and he looks up you. "You like that?" He tilts his head, his mouth only inches away from yours. A smirk pulls at his mouth, and he teases you in kind. "Rough." Menthuthuyoupis breath hitches against your ear. He shivers, his body taut with tension as his hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tightening against the soft skin.

"Rough." He murmurs once more, his voice barely a touch above a whisper. He pulls back slightly, and the look in his eyes is like a wildcat stalking its prey.

"You want rough." He repeats, as though it is the most obvious thing in the universe.

Meruem

His lips move against yours automatically. He kisses you with a sense of reverence so intense, you'd think you were worshipping a god in the shape of a man. Meruem's heart is in his throat. This is all he's ever dreamed of, all he's dreamed of since the day you first turned your eyes onto him. He kisses you like a dying man who is being reborn (literally). A man starving who cannot fathom having food, but here it is, right in front of him.

Just before you pull away, Meruem murmurs.

"Mine." His mouth curls up at that. He grins, but there's hunger behind his eyes, and something else too. A sense of possession. A deep, feral need to keep what is his and his alone. "Mine to devour," he agrees. "Mine to love. Mine to hold. Mine to eat if i so desire." Meruem kisses you again, this time more aggressively, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your lips so that he will never forget the taste again. His hands, large and strong, come up to rest on your waist; his fingers dig into your body, claiming you as his with a possessive force that takes your breath.

He breaks the kiss, only to move back in, kissing you again and again. Each time, his embrace around you deepens, becomes harder. His breaths are becoming heavier.

"My Human tastes so good."

Morel

Morel is a man who is all restraint. He is meticulous, precise, and disciplined. He has a reputation as a hunter for his precise, deadly combat, but he has also been known to be a slow, almost deliberate lover.

His kiss against your mouth is slow and unhurried. When his lips part from yours, he pauses to gaze at you, as if you are a precious gemstone. Morel will look at you as if for the first time, even after months of seeing you. No matter how many times he's been in your presence, every look is like the first. His expression is always one of reverent awe. His hands are cool, soft, and steady. They rest against your face when he kisses you. He holds you close, like a flower held in a gentle breeze that will protect you from all the storms of the world. His movements are deliberately slow, as if he is savouring every inch of you.

"Morel..." His name on your lips makes his body shiver with something he couldn't have prepared for in a million deaths. He is as if carved from stone. The word that slips from your mouth as if falling from the gods themselves makes him feel like he's been touched by lightning.

"Say it again…?" he whispers.

"Morel." "You'll remember to scream that later." "Wait what?"

Neferpitou

Neferpitou shivers at the sensation of your lips. Soft. Plump. Just the right amount of firmness. When your hand cups the side of their face, they tilt their head into your hand — as though they couldn't be more content to be in your grasp.

"Was...was that a kiss…?" They ask breathlessly. Neferpitou has always been quiet, but they are so very desperate for you. Neferpitou kisses you like a drowning man, with a desperation that almost seems to consume the room. There are no words that need be said to describe this, only actions.

When your back hits the wall, Neferpitou is flush against you, their lips still on yours, tongue tracing over your teeth. Their hand reaches up to grasp you by the neck, pressing against your jaw with the same sort of urgency.

Their breaths get deeper, more ragged with want. "You're mine…" Neferpitou breathes when they finally pull back from your kiss, leaving only a few inches of space between your lips. Their thumb brushes over your lip, lingering as if they couldn't bear the thought of letting it go.

"Say you're mine, human!"

Netero

His lips are warm, softer than they have any right to be. His arms are around you, firm as a mountain, but gentle in a way that says he's being careful. He tastes of the rain, like the afterglow of a storm. His arms tighten against your back in a way that makes it perfectly clear: he intends on holding onto you for all eternity. He is centuries old— but he feels young with you. He holds you against him like a relic, a treasure from the very first second that he's made you his.

Your body fits against his, the two of you slotting together like the final bit of a puzzle. He is warm against you, his head buried against the crook of your neck, as if you are a pillow, and all his thoughts are on you. His face is pressed into your hair, and he inhales slowly, your scent filling his senses and his eyes flutter shut. It feels as if a part of him has been missing all his life, and then you came along and you fit so perfectly into his arms that all at once he realises: you were always that missing piece.

"I've been waiting for so long," he mumbles. "I'm not going to let go of you now."

Nobunaga

Nobunagas head is in the crook of your neck. He is breathing deeply, as if you could drown out the whole world with the scent of you alone. "I love you," he breathes again, against your skin. "You're it… you're all I need…"

His hand gently runs up your arm, holding you against him. He's clinging to you like a barnacle. Nobunaga's breath hitches as your touch moves against his jawline. "You're too good for me." His words are barely a whisper.  His eyes close as soon as your hand touches his face, and he's completely quiet now, save for the sound of his breath.

If it weren't for his heart beating, one would almost assume that he's dead. He's as still as a statue, as if the mere whisper of your touch could bring him shattering to his knees. "You," he murmurs again, his voice low, "you're everything. More. So many good things I'm not. You're— I would die for you. I would."

His grip on your arm tightens. "I'm lost in you… I'm—" he trails off, swallowing thickly.

Pariston

"Somebody might-" "Let them," Pariston murmurs against your mouth. He's breathless, his face a few inches from yours, eyes wide and fixed in a mixture of reverence and adoration. "Let them look. Let them see your good man; your beautiful lover." He pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him. There's something almost feverish in the way he looks at you. "Let them see that you're mine. Let them know you're the only one that matters." "But-" "But?" His tone matches yours; gentle, questioning. "But what?"

His eyes search yours, as if he's almost afraid that you'll tell him to stop— that he'll be forced to part from you, even for a second. He holds his ground, unmoving, his body pressed close to yours. Pariston smiles at you, a tender curve of the lips. It's a smile full of warmth and adoration.

It's the kind of smile that is utterly unguarded, a simple, unburdened smile that comes from nothing but love and affection. Pariston's tongue peeks out from behind his lips to moisten them. He brings a hand up to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

"You look pretty when you're flustered," he comments. "And so flustered," he teases, his finger trailing lower down your face to brush against your neck playfully. "Are you scared that they'll think I'm taking advantage of you, my love?"

His hand slides down your arm; a shiver goes through you as his fingertips linger over your forearm. "Scared that they'll think that I'm making you mine?"

A pause, before he adds in a husky drawl that sounds more like a growl, "Scared that you'll like it?"

Phinks

"Only strong for you," Phinks murmurs with a soft gasp, breathless and trembling.

His arms tighten around you, fingers gripping your shoulders as he pulls you closer, needing to have you in his embrace. The only thought his mind is able to form is of you, of you, of you. Phinks breath hitches.

His fingers tighten around your waist. His lips part easily as his head cocks back and his breaths grow more urgent. He makes a low, soft sound as his fingers clutch tighter to your body, and he presses himself closer to you. Phinks can't get enough of this. He can't get enough of having you close, of having you so close to him. Of hearing you breathe, of feeling the weight of you on top of him.

He kisses you more roughly this time, tongue pressing against yours. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you closer, and his fingers dig into your skin.

He pulls away and presses his lips to your neck, lips whispering against the skin.

"You drive me insane." One of his legs hooks around yours and he rolls, reversing the positions so that he is on top of you, staring down at you from above. He presses against you, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

Pokkle

"Me, shy?" Pokkle almost laughs, only holding in the sound with a stifled huff. He raises his face slowly to look at you, his eyes glistening just like they almost always do when he looks towards you. "I am not shy," he says. "I simply—"

His voice trails off once again and he looks down at his feet. He lets out a low, shuddering breath— he's never been a good liar. He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"I'm not getting shy at all. I'm not. I just…" He looks up, eyes meeting yours almost immediately, like a flower seeking sun. "A moment of weakness. A brief vulnerability— I-"

He sighs. God, he is a bad liar.

"Shut up and keep kissing me." You whisper, leaning closer to him. Pokkle freezes at that order. His breath stops in his chest. For a moment, it seems he's stunned speechless by the statement.

And then, he reacts. All he does is stare for a second, and you catch a spark of something new in Pokkles eyes. "Okay," he says; his voice is barely a whisper as he responds to you, soft and just a little bit breathy.  He pulls you close.

Razor

His hands are gentle as he touches you, as he runs his fingers over you like you are pure light. Razor loves to tease you, loves to hear your little whimpers and gasps as his touch slides over you. "Did you do that on purpose?" Razor asks, voice slightly breathless as he presses his thumb over the spot were he just left his mark. "I don't believe you're this bad at practicing nen." there's a slight edge to his voice, "and I know you aren't that bad."

"Or— maybe," he murmurs— "I'm just that skilled at making you lose your focus." Razor lets his fingers dance over your skin while your heart beats faster under his touch. "You're so easy," he muses. His tongue slips out, running the tip along the seam of your lips. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky whisper:

"You're so desperate just for me to touch you."

His fingers dance along the inside of your shirt as they slip under the fabric, caressing the warm, supple skin beneath his fingertips. He kisses you again. His teeth close around your bottom lip. He nips at your mouth with more force. He gently bites and sucks and pulls until you're letting out the pretty noises that drive him crazy. When he releases your lip, a thread of saliva still connected to his mouth, he grins against it.

"You're not very quiet at all."

Shaiapouf

His kisses are soft, as if he is touching a piece of art that could crumble under the pressure of his own touch. He holds your gaze as he does, eyes wide and open, like a child that has seen something that has rocked his very world. His tongue is soft and slow against your mouth, warm and gentle like the summer sun. His body is warm as well, every muscle under his clothes as taut as tautrope. He moves slowly, languid, languid. He would not speed the pace on his own accord. He's content to worship you with his lips. His mouth moves to your neck, his lips brushing against the bare skin, soft as satin.

He's silent as he presses kisses against your throat, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales your scent, as if it alone was a sacrament he was consuming.

He moves lower, his mouth moving to the hollow of your throat. He pauses there, then moves down to the collarbone, his hair splaying across your skin. Shaiapoufs tongue runs along the contour of your collarbone. He lets it dance across the skin of your collarbone, as it would a melody on the strings. He presses gentle kisses there, moving his way back up along your throat to your jaw.

His hands are at your face, stroking softly across your cheek, your chin, your jaw. His touch is like a caress. He strokes over your lips.

Shalnark

A small whimper sounds in the back of Shalnarks throat as your lips meet. He is quick to return the kiss, as if every fiber of his being is focused on that one singular contact. He reaches up, resting his palm against the curve of your jaw, turning your head so that he can deepen the kiss.

His breath is hot against your skin, his other hand gripping your waist, fingers digging hard into the fabric of your clothes. "You're mine," he murmurs against your lips, almost desperately. His fingers tug at your clothes, trying to pull you closer. If he could have, he would have torn them from you, and then your body, so that he could have you even closer.

Shalnark tongue brushes over your lower lip, and he makes a soft sound—a small whimper—as he does so. He is desperate, and his touch is rough. In that moment, he simply wants to be close to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Mine," he mumbles, again.

Shoot

Shoot melts into your kiss, a soft gasp of surprise escaping him as you kiss him, and he responds quietly, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch you. He's timid, but also hungry, desperate to feel your lips upon his.

His body presses against yours as your lips touch, and he makes another soft gasp as his hands finally touch your skin. You take his hands in mine and place them on your waist. Shoot hands freeze as they slide against your waist. His fingertips touch your hip, gently wrapping around you. He swallows hard, the sound loud in the quiet, as he pulls you closer. He lets his fingers explore your back, sliding up to your shoulders. His hands are cold, but not unwelcome. He keeps going, as if he's lost himself in the simple pleasure of touching you. "Your skin…it's so warm," he murmurs, voice a little breathless. The words are like smoke from his lips, his body shivering against yours. "I didn't expect—"

A soft noise sounds from his throat, and Shoot tugs you closer against himself, his body molding against yours like clay. "It's been too long. I've missed the touch of warm skin," he complains, leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.

Uvogin

Uvogin is in control— a gentle yet calloused hand against the sensitive skin of your jaw, lips moving against yours. When he speaks, his voice is soft, gentle, and deep- "Mmmm, I could kiss you forever." He murmurs against your lips, his thumb tracing soft patterns upon your neck, as if mapping out the shape of your pulse.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nipping, then kissing again. He's pinning you against a wall, his body trapping you against it, his hips against yours.

Another kiss, deep and hungry, tongue pressing against your lips in an almost desperate demand for more of you. Uvogin doesn't speak, his mouth busy, claiming, exploring.  His hands roam up your back, pulling you flush to his chest. "You're so perfect," he mutters in between kisses, his voice husky, heavy with a desire he seems unable to control. One hand slides into your hair, holding your head in place, his body pressing you down, holding you in place against the wall.

His lips travel down your jawline, across your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing in a pattern that is both maddening and delicious.

Wing

Wings tongue slips between your lips as he draws you in for a kiss. His hands grip at your body, pulling you close, pressing you close until you can barely move. His head tilts slightly to the side, lips moving at a slow, torturous pace. He seems to drink you in, savoring the taste of you. He's gentle, oh so gentle, and yet at the same time he can't bring his lips away from yours. "Please," he whispers, his voice a low growl when he pulls away just enough to speak. "Please don't let me go, not now. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Wings arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against him as if he'll die if he lets you go.

He presses his body close to yours, his head leaning on your shoulder. He's desperate for a moment of peace and your presence, and yet he knows that you could leave at any moment. "I won't." Wing grip around you tightens at those words. He inhales shakily, his body shuddering. His breath brushes over your neck, warm against your skin.

"Say it again." He demands, lifting his head to look up at you. Despite his firm tone, his eyes are soft, almost pleading. He's desperate to hear it from you, for you to reassure him.

Chrollo Lucilfer

The moment you say it, like it's a throwaway confession in a game meant to get a rise, Chrollo stills. His glass never makes it to his lips. His gaze finds yours as if he were flipping to the most important page of a book he's read cover to cover. "Is that so?" he murmurs. He doesn't ask for details. He doesn't need them. Everyone else keeps laughing or gasping, but he's already decided that this is no longer a game.

When the others have gone, or rather, when he makes them leave, he closes the door behind him and approaches you slowly. "You gave that information freely," he says, fingertips brushing your chin as he tilts your face up. "If you give me permission to, I would like to reward that honesty." There's nothing rushed in the way he presses you back onto the couch. "Once," he murmurs, breath ghosting your skin, "will not be enough."

Illumi Zoldyck

The room goes silent after your confession, too silent. You glance over, only to find Illumi staring at you with that unblinking intensity of his. "No one?" he echoes, voice flat, as if he misheard. There's some quiet agitation that doesn't show clearly on his face. He doesn't laugh like the others, doesn't shrug it off. "That's... insufficient," he adds, almost to himself. "Unacceptable, if we were together." It's not jealousy. Just a simple statement that no one blinked at for the rest of the night.

When you're finally alone together, he wastes no time. His hands are clinical, yes, but precise, and with every slow, deliberate movement, it becomes clear he's not treating this like a simple hook up. It's a mission. A point of pride even. "I learn quickly," he murmurs, watching your reactions with eerie fascination, as though each moan is new intel he's memorizing. "And I don't fail." His pace never falters until you're trembling beneath him, breathless and wrecked, and only then does he lean close enough to whisper, "I think I rather would like it if you belonged to me. Do you agree?"

Feitan Porter

Feitan's eyes cut to you the second the words leave your mouth. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't even change expression, but you feel the shift in the air like the crackle before lightning hits. "Hn," he mutters eventually, almost to himself. "That's stupid." Then, with a scoff and a flick of his fingers, he stands and walks off like the conversation bored him. The others keep laughing, but you know he heard you properly.

Later, he doesn't knock. Just shuts the door behind him and says, "Get on the bed." There's no preface or flirtation, only a low, steady command as his eyes drag over you. "They had no idea what they were doing," he mutters as his mouth settles between your thighs. Feitan's not gentle, not in the slightest, but he's deliberate, efficient, and cruelly good at making you fall apart. He doesn't stop at one. He doesn't even pause. Not until your legs tremble and your voice breaks. Only after your third one does he pulls back, lips slick, and says coolly, "Now they're erased. Only me in your head now."

Phinks Magcub

Phinks damn near chokes on his drink when you say it. "You're kidding," he blurts, eyes wide as he stares at you like you just admitted you've never had a steak. When you shake your head, his expression shifts more to a slow-simmering anger. "Tch. Whoever they were, they oughta be embarrassed." He leans back, arms crossed, "You really let that slide?" he mutters, quieter now, as if he's trying to talk himself down from storming out to find your exes. For the rest of the game, his focus is shot. He barely even cracks a joke, too busy watching you from the corner of his eye.

The second you're alone, he's already pulling you in by the hips. "C'mere. I'm settin' the record straight," he says, serious in a way that makes your stomach flutter. Phinks is all strength and confidence, but he reins it in just enough to keep from overwhelming, just enough to savor every twitch of your body under his touch. He groans when your thighs tighten around him, gripping your waist like he can't get enough. "Thaaaat's it," he groans against you, "I better be the only one you think about when you fall apart from now on, no matter where we go from 'ere."

Nobunaga Hazama

Nobunaga freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth, eyebrows shooting up at your casual confession. "Wait, hold on--what?" His voice cuts through the chatter, and he sets the can down hard, eyes narrowing like you just challenged him to a duel. "You're tellin' me not a single asshole's managed to do right by you?" His tone is half disbelieving, half offended, "That's just a damn shame. Should be a crime." He doesn't let it go either, throwing a sideways glare at the rest of the group, then glances back at you with a quiet resolve. "Guess that means it's up to me."

He's not subtle about it later. There's nothing rushed or polished, just his mouth and hands against your skin. "You're gonna remember me by the end of this." he says, voice rough as he buries his face between your thighs. His grip on your legs is firm, keeping you steady as he pulls you open and pushes you over with unrelenting hunger. "I'm not stopping untiI I hear you lose it," he mutters. And when it finally happens, when your body arches and your voice cracks, he doesn't say I told you so. He just kisses you, smirking like he won.

Shalnark

Shalnark blinks once, then tilts his head with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Really? No one at all?" His voice stays light, playful even, but the way he watches you now is sharper than before. "That's surprising," he adds, setting down his phone without looking away. "But... good to know." The rest of the game carries on, but Shal's checked out, already preoccupied with a much more interesting scheme.

Later, he's all sweet words and wicked intentions. "Just wanna help," he coos, kissing his way down your neck, fingers brushing softly over your hips. But his eyes never stop watching yours, "Let me see where they went wrong," he whispers. He times your pleasure like he's syncing to a rhythm only he can hear, smiling wider the closer he gets. And when your body finally gives in, trembling around him, he hums like he's proud of himself. "There we go. That's the reaction I was aiming for."

Leorio Paradinight

Leorio nearly spits out his drink. "What?!" His voice cracks a little, loud enough to make everyone laugh, but the shock on his face is painfully genuine. "You can't just drop that in a party game!" he sputters, staring at you like you just said the sky was green. Then his brows furrow and he leans in closer, suddenly serious. "Wait--Are you joking?--You're not joking. Unbelievable." He doesn't tease after that, not wanting to make it weird. For the rest of the night you catch him glancing your way, lips pressed together in thought and getting pissed at the very idea of anyone failing you.

When he has you alone, there's a nervous energy in the way he touches you at first, wanting prove something without rushing it. "Just...tell me what feels good," he says, one hand curling under your thigh as he settles between them. But he doesn't wait for complete answers, he learns. Fast. He's messier than the others, groaning into you with every shaky breath you take, gripping your hips when your moans crack. "That's it, sweetheart, there you go," he murmurs, face flushed. "Let me be the first one to actually do this right."

Hisoka Morow

The moment you say it, Hisoka goes still. But his grin doesn't fade, it grows. "Mmm, what a delicious little secret," he purrs, tilting his head as if you've gifted him something far more valuable than a cheap thrill. "No one's ever made you cum?" he repeats, almost giddy. "That's tragic, honestly. But lucky me~💕" He doesn't care who's around. In fact, he seems to delight in the way your face heats under his gaze, eyes sweeping over you like he's already undressing you, "I do love a challenge."

When he finally has you alone, Hisoka drags you to the edge of the bed and kneels with theatrical flair, but what comes next is anything but performative. His mouth is relentless, messy, and maddeningly thorough, dragging every sound from you with perverse delight. "Don't hold back now," he murmurs licking his lips of your juices before moving his way up to the main event, fingers digging into your hips. "You're so sweet when you're honest, pumpkin~❤️ Give me more." When your back arches and you sob his name, he groans like won the grand prize, "Ahh, see? All it took was someone worthy of you." He hums, "And I'm. Not. Done. Proving it."

“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.

with Chrollo nothing is really a gift, he always wants something in return especially if it’s somthing you asked for, he likes buying you things that are delicate, jewelry or vintage books that are really for him, he’s a fan of lace so you’ll also receive a generous amount of lacy lingerie, and he expects you to wear them

 

Feitan turns bare necessities into luxuries, pillows and blankets are a very well received gift from him as it’s almost always freezing in the basement he keeps you in for a long time before your trusted to go upstairs without constant supervision. Random little bags of candy are a treat he brings back from missions if you’ve been good

Nobunaga is a total pervert, he gives you skimpy clothes and sex toys that he expects you to try with him, gifts that don’t serve him directly are always bribes to get stuff out of you, he doesn’t like giving you activities, in his mind the more bored you are the more likely you are to come to him for entertainment

Franklin he likes getting you activities that keep you busy, he doesn’t care what kind of clothes you wear he takes basically your whole wardrobe from your old closet and lets you pick any new stuff you need or want, out of all the members he’s on the more bearable side

Uvogin gives you food whenever he wants to treat you, fresh fruit, sugary stuff, good takeout from your favourite restaurant after you were extra submissive in bed the day prior, he thinks good performance should be rewarded, the only other food you have access to is canned or expired and hardly edible to anyone that isn’t 8’6 with the immune system of an elephant so sufficed to say you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give you

Shizuku gets you things you can spend time building but also use afterwords, or cute things you can decorate your space with, legos, diamond art kits, stuff that a cute harmless things like you should you be doing in her mind

Shalnark likes getting video games or anything that you guys can do together, he also enjoys when you wear stuff in styles he likes so he’ll get you a fair share of cute clothes or accessories he wants to see you in

Phinks he gets you stuff you need unless you ask for something extra, he doesn’t just buy you little things, he wants you to come to him and ask for whatever you want, he’ll almost never say no unless it’s dangerous or you’ve been bad

Most of Pakunodas gifts come a couple months into your abduction, she likes getting you relaxing treatments and pink collar services, your hair and nails done by people who come to the apartment she keeps you in, she’d love to treat you to these things earlier but she had to make sure you could be civilized first

Machi buys you copies of stuff you had at your old house, she takes photos of products you used to buy and scents you like, snoops through your old devices to see what kind of luxurious things you couldn’t afford before and they randomly appear in your shower

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